Maybe I was crazy for imagining a relaxing week at the beach with four children under 5 years old, maybe I was just plain stupid. But as I anticipated a 10 day beach vacation with my daughters, my brother, my niece and my mother, I couldn't help but fantasize.

We would take walks on the beach, build sandcastles and go to the park.

As the children napped and played quietly together (it's OK for you to laugh now, I realize this is ridiculous) I would whip out my laptop and gaze over the Gulf as I worked on my latest work in progress. I was going to complete half the book while I was there, because my children would be so entertained by the view and our family togetherness that they would forget I was even there.

Reality check. In the first two days of our vacation three of my family members contracted a violent stomach bug, complete with vomiting and die-rear. My husband had to drive from the Alabama Gulf Coast all the way back to Mississippi, by himself, with a barf bag riding shotgun. Once the virus passed, my oldest and youngest daughters developed hacking coughs and runny noses that persisted even through my most valiant efforts to ignore their symptoms and hope they got better on their own.

I drove them to an Urgent Care facility on a whim. I figured we needed to get well, by golly, so My Vacation Fantasy could come into fruition. By the end of the evening I was sitting at South Baldwin Medical Center, waiting for an ENT to remove a penny my 15-month-old had swallowed after her nap but, apparently, before I decided to take her to the doctor. It was lodged in her esophagus and could have easily blocked her airway.

We were beyond fortunate and blessed to have the best care available. A pediatric ENT who wasn't even on call came to the hospital in the middle of the night to take care of my baby. I was so thankful that I had listened to my gut when I decided it was time to go get medical help. But after being awake for 24 hours, rushing my child to the Emergency Room in the middle of the night, waiting for her to be put to sleep while I sat in another room, helpless, the only place I wanted to be was home.

Tonight, my husband and I packed up all of our kids and made the drive to Hilltop Restaurant, in Blackwater, for their first annual shrimp boil to meet our best friends and their three children. Our party of 10 crowded around a table for six. Aubrey, my oldest daughter, hopped into a chair with her best friend, Elizabeth, and began sharing fries off of her plate, like they had only seen each other yesterday and not the two weeks it had actually been. Emma cozied up to my best friend Lizzie, in her preferred seat, so she could lean over and whisper in Miss Lizzie's ear whenever she felt the urge.

I sipped on my beer and glanced around the crowded restaurant and saw many familiar faces. I nodded to an acquaintance I met at an area church, and talked about kids with another preschool mommy, as Zeb, my husband, placed orders for the whole family.

We ate boiled potatoes, corn on the cob and shrimp so fresh it tasted like it had been pulled straight from the Gulf. We laughed out loud as we caught up with our friends and ate until our tummies and our table couldn't hold anymore.

My husband and I loaded the girls in the car for the short drive home. It was dusk and I could see purplish-black clouds gathering over the fields. It was quiet in the car as we drove down the hill and back into the sprawling Delta.

Nobody asked if we were there yet. No one screamed, "Tell her to quit touching me!" No one asked how much longer, or yelled that they needed to pee, or wanted a snack.

We came home, to our house. The children put on their pajamas, brushed their teeth and climbed into their very own beds. I rocked my baby and read her a story before I placed her gently in her crib, taking a moment to trail my fingertips along her soft Gerber baby profile and thank God for His mercy and grace, for saving her and bringing us safely home.

I plopped on the couch, tired after a long day of spring cleaning, scratched my head and tried to figure out exactly what it was I thought I needed a vacation from to begin with. That may not be the emerald waters of the Gulf of Mexico in my backyard, but it'll do just fine. I'm home, and nothing can top that.

(Robin O'Bryant is a former Mount Pleasant resident and mother of three. Read her blog online at www.robinschicks.com or e-mail her, zebandrobin@hotmail.com.)