In cold, dreary December, nothing sounds better than a week at the beach with the family. Come July, loading approximately everything you own into the sagging back of a station wagon to make the seven hour-plus car ride to the North Carolina Outer Banks seems more like pure lunacy. But we had a strategy: begin the trip at baby's naptime, thus guaranteeing two hours of blissful silence at the outset. Drive no more than five hours, stopping at a motel with a pool, turning the journey itself into a vacation adventure. Continue on to the beach rested and calm, with clean, happy children in tow. It was a beautiful, nearly perfect plan, one we completely failed to execute.

The trouble began with the boogie boards. There was no easy way to wedge them into the car. Like all big, unwieldy slabs of Styrofoam, they refused to stay put, periodically sliding forward to bonk the baby on the head. Add two metal detectors; three pieces of luggage; a porta-crib; a baby stroller; four cases of bottled water and Gatorade; a bag of beach towels and toys; a laptop computer; a boom box and six pounds of children's books and you're not wrong to wonder why we didn't just go ahead and throw in a sofa, the dishwasher and our wedding crystal. The car, bloated as a whale, slid painfully out of the driveway and pointed east.

Three hours later, having read aloud "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish" an unreasonable number of times, I acknowledged that I had morphed from an edgy martini-swilling chick into the mistress of unholy rolling mayhem. "I'm hot," whined Eric. "Duck! Duck!" Olivia bellowed tearfully. My husband cut me a look of desperate irritation and muttered, "We're stopping right now and walking around Wal-Mart." So we did, spending an hour or so shuffling up and down the aisles. (I now know why there are so many screaming kids at Wal-Mart: people like us.) Soothed by her bout of retail therapy, Olivia allowed us to stuff her back into her car seat. We rolled onto the interstate.

Two hours later it was time for dinner and the hoped-for motel with a pool. Except, we were making pretty good time, despite our detour to Wal-Mart, and it seemed a shame to stop driving so soon. We pressed on, planning to spend the night in the lovely, historic town of Manteo. Arriving there exhausted and frazzled at nine p.m. we made the startling discovery that there were no vacancies anywhere to be found. Not even at the enticingly named Duke of Dare Motor Inn. "Elizabeth City." The Duke's proprietress informed us, "That's the only place you're going to find a room tonight. Up the road, about an hour and a half from here. Good luck."

My husband and I knew at the moment that we were idiots. We'd come to the beach on a weekend without reservations. We could have stopped inland in Williamston or Plymouth, but no, we had to push it. And now we'd suffer for our hubris. "Do we have to sleep sitting up in the car?" Eric inquired. "I'm hot." Assuring him that we'd most certainly find a room somewhere on the Outer Banks, we proceeded to drive, stopping at every single motel on the island. There wasn't a room to be had. In weary disbelief we headed for Elizabeth City. Arriving shortly after midnight, we were promptly turned away from the first three motels we tried. Staggering up to the registration desk of our last hope, I nearly wept for joy when the clerk answered my request with a "Yep, we've got one room left. One queen bed, smoking." I had a credit card out before she finished speaking.

Although even the Duke wouldn't have dared to walk barefoot on the carpet of our temporary refuge, we were too tired to be picky about little things like hygiene. Pulling two chairs together, I informed Eric that he should think of this as a space-age sleeping pod and make the best of it. Olivia bedded down in her porta-crib and Mark and I collapsed onto the lumpy and oddly sloped bed. We were miles off course, hours off schedule, and close to losing our minds - proof that we were enjoying a genuine American family vacation. As I drifted off to sleep, my husband said, "We will never, ever do this again. Never." Yes we will, I thought. We just need a better plan...