Vacation pre-jitters and post-reality


My nails are pale pink with perfectly set sparkles throughout. For my toes, I chose bright pink to

match one of the 5 swimsuits I plan to wear. I started laser hair removal months ago so that I wouldn’t

have to worry about any irritating issues while living in those suits.  New sunglasses and new clothes,

perfect for any activity I could dream up while away. I planned my last hair appointment so the gray

that so inconveniently pops up around my face would have no chance of being a bother. Hormones

are in check and my monthly lady friend is scarce these days, thanks to a procedure I had months ago

to help with unbearable cycles. I have planned more lingerie/pjs than one girl should have because

who knows how I’ll actually feel… all the “sexy” time or not… is set.  A week away, no kids, just me and

him. It will be like heaven, right?  Yes, right.













Morning of departure. I woke up 3 times from 11pm-4am. This isn’t excitement. This is “what the hell

am I doing leaving my kids for one whole week while I go pretend I don’t have kids for one whole

week?”. Freak out mama drama. The stress is so bad that I swear I’ve given myself a UTI! I then start

stressing that I’m gonna have an actual UTI, because that’s what happens when I have extreme chaos

in my head and little sleep and and and…My body says “here you go, you can’t handle yourself or life

in general right now so you need this”. It all snowballs from there…

here goes all the pretty clothes I thought I’d wear.

I’ll be lucky to get out of sweatpants this week.

The months of getting ready were for naught.

Why am I doing this?

I should stay home with my children.  

The actual, I think the plane is going to crash into the ocean and a shark will eat me.

My kids will be raised by who exactly when I die this week?

Shoot I need to write a letter; so people know how I feel about what I want my kids to know…in the

event that I break my neck while parasailing.

Why do I need to parasail again?



I didn’t parasail, by the way. The sharks didn’t eat me, the plane didn’t crash. I didn’t even die.









My parents kept all the children happy and safe. Matt told me I was the best dressed girl he noticed

the whole week (of course).  Everything was just as it needed to be. I’m such a non-planner. Mostly, I

fly by the seat of my pants until its go time in all areas of my life. So, our itinerary was made up day to

day. I loved the freedom of not being bossed around by a to-do list.  Still, it took me two whole days to

relax, to truly settle in. I was sure for those first two days that someone was out to get us on the back

dirt roads of Aruba, and we would be the next Natalie Hollaway story (so embarrassing to admit). Days

3,4 & 5 actually were heavenly. Day 6 I started feeling down because the beauty was almost over. I

had the biggest headache and napped most of the day.  My mind and body needed it anyway. Day 7 I

was ready to see the kids and crawl into my own bed by the end of the night.


One week was enough time for all the adventure we could handle and plenty of time to do nothing at

all. It sounds cliche, but everything worked out.

It always does.





P.S. This was dinner by the beach. My hair was blowing everywhere.I took a napkin and wrapped it around that mess. Problem solved. Happiness restored.