If regular maintenance concerns, family differences, scheduling and trespassers of all species aren’t enough to worry about, I’ve created another problem for myself. Somewhere along the way, I appointed myself Activity Director, a position no one asked me to fill. I find myself feeling responsible for making sure everyone has the time of their life.

We all know that a great time comes from the perfect blend of where you are and who you are with. Dealing with the occasional jabs about not being invited and weighing our options when trying to put together a group that will mesh well is a thing. The label on the pontoon says eight people and 1,500 pounds, but we take that merely as a suggestion. The dining table in the upper cabin seats 14, so that’s where we draw the hard line.

No matter who visits us, I like to operate under three rules. First, no one does anything they don’t want to. Secondly, time permitting, everyone gets to do the one thing they hoped to do while here. Thirdly, everyone chips in. There are no free rides.

I learned early on that as much as I like playing hostess and cooking, good friends want to pitch in. Each friend’s trip comes complete with an Excel spreadsheet detailing who’s bringing what for which night. Some administrative duties are hard to walk away from.

Thurston and I make breakfast. Biscuits and gravy, fried potatoes, blueberry pancakes, apple fritter French toast and scrambled eggs are just a few of our favorites on the menu.

Evening meals are divided up and, most importantly, if you cook, you clean. You can dirty every dish we have if you don’t mind washing them. We have finally convinced Thurston that paper plates are the only way to go with a large group and no dishwasher. Some guests cook from scratch and some shop at Costco, but we’ve never had a bad meal. If you go hungry, it’s your own fault.

My job as Activity Director was considerably easier before grandchildren entered the picture.

Inviting our grown children to vacation with our friends was easy in the beginning. If you haven’t let your hair down with your grown children, you are really missing out. It gives everyone a whole new appreciation for each other.

One year, our friend brought an alcoholic version of root beer that Thurston’s daughter took right to. Next thing we knew, she was declaring her love for her dad, adding that she never knew he was so much fun. The morning after, however, wasn’t as cheery.

Somewhere along the way, late nights, crazy laughter and our own version of dizzy bat on the beach have given way to diapers, sippy cups and puff snacks.

While we love watching our grandchildren’s every move, we highly doubt toddler-watching for hours on end would be high on our friends’ bucket lists. Nor would waiting until 2 p.m. each day for the stars to align and make a boat ride possible.

Rather than gather at the big table for cards or games, we currently enjoy evenings out by the fire so that our laughter doesn’t wake the children from their much-needed sleep.

So, these days, family trips tend to be family trips and friend trips are planned separately. Either way, the planner in me still feels the pressure to make sure everyone enjoys being there.

It’s always fun to see guests’ reactions the first time they come. I secretly hope they feel the same magic we do. As much as we love it, there are still some who would prefer a week at a nice resort. That’s fine; fewer people to worry about.

On our most recent trip, we invited a couple for their first visit. My role as Activity Director, sometimes means Cruise Director too. I decided they needed to see the sandstone rocks and the underground road to the lost city. I’m sure you know I had built it up pretty good by this point.

We layered up our clothing, overloaded the pontoon and headed out around the island. Convinced I knew where it was, we kept going. And going. The waves got higher as we went.

It wasn’t long before Thurston was hinting that maybe we should try again on their next visit—code for, “This is a bad idea.”

I responded with my own code: “We’re not going back until we’ve accomplished our objective.”

Eventually, common sense – or Thurston – won out, and we turned around before finding the rocks.  Everyone else seemed perfectly capable of handling the disappointment. The Cruise Director may have pouted a little. Apparently, toddlers aren’t the only ones who struggle when things don’t go according to plan.

Our boat captain tends to believe safety should come before entertainment. I’m more of a “what’s the worst that could happen?” person. Lately, life has been answering that question a little too often.

Thurston can sit back and replay memories of his childhood and those made here with his own children. Meanwhile, I’m scanning the crowd with one question running through my head:

Is everyone having a great time?

Maybe that’s one of the things I’m still learning. I can invite the people, plan and pack the food, organize a boat ride and even insist we keep going long after Thurston has decided it’s a bad idea. What I can’t do is guarantee anyone the time of their life.

Maybe it’s time to let that job go in retirement too. Besides, our friends may remember the morning we couldn’t find the rocks longer than they would have remembered the rocks. I may retire as Activity Director, but I’m keeping the spreadsheet. It tells everyone what we need. What they bring because it just wouldn’t be vacation without it is entirely up to them.