By Christie Wilson
Advertiser Staff Writer

Family vacations are a lot like childbirth. There's lots of screamin' and hollerin', and somewhere in the middle of it all, you vow never to do it again.

Then, a unique sort of amnesia sets in, and before you know it, you're making plans for the next one.

During our weeklong trip to the Big Island last month, the complaining started before we even left the house, with the 8-year-old fussing because he wanted his own suitcase.

The boy and his it's-all-about-me teenage sister tussled at the airport, and the sibling warfare raged on from the Hilo bayfront to the cool Waimea uplands and beyond.

Madame Pele's fiery display was no match for the fury of brother and sister as they wrestled for control of a pair of binoculars amid fields of fresh lava.

The two battled over who sat where in the car, what music to listen to, where to eat, what to do.

We traded in our rental car for a van so they wouldn't have to sit together, but then they argued over who got the back row.

"Is it too much to ask for a little cooperation in trying to make some memories for my children?" I cried to the heavens — memories like the ones I cherish from a family vacation to the Big Island in the mid-1960s.

Come to think of it, my brother and I threw blows in the back seat of a rental car back then, too. But I also remember traveling unpaved roads to overgrown heiau sites, bodysurfing at a deserted beach, and my dad being invited to join an old-fashioned hukilau.

In trying to relive some of these moments and ignite a spark of interest in the culture and natural history of these Islands, I was met with resistance every step of the way. The children would groan and roll their eyes each time we pulled over at some point of interest. All they were interested in learning was the location of the nearest Fun Factory.

Then, on a perfect Kona morning, I took my son snorkeling for the first time.

After adjusting his mask and advising him to relax and breathe normally, he dipped his face in the water and immediately popped back up. "I saw fish!" he said excitedly.

Floating side by side, fingertips touching, we explored the cove. Squeals of delight shot up from his snorkel at each sighting of manini, yellow tang, uhu and humuhumunukunukuapua'a.

A sea turtle glided silently into view as it headed for shallow water. We flapped our arms in unison with the turtle's movements and followed it a distance before discovering a dozen of the creatures feeding on limu clinging to rocks near the shoreline.

After close to an hour, mother and son emerged from the ocean giddy from the shared underwater experience.

The boy slipped his hand into mine and said, "Thank you, Mom, for the best day of my life."

I wanted to fall to my knees and weep.

Hey, kids, where are we goin' next year?!

Reach Christie Wilson at cwilson@honoluluadvertiser.com.