Why Vacations Are Better Now

 

Thank you so much for all of your sweet wishes for our trip. It. Was. Fabulous! Perfect, really. We had perfect travel days, perfect weather, perfect delicious food, and perfect relaxing days with no agenda. And it was the perfect amount of time away.

For most of my life I’ve vacationed in the summer. And, being a teacher, I’ve always had my summers off. So vacations, for me, were just vacations from my vacation, so to speak.  And don’t get me wrong. I cherished every single one of them. But I don’t think I could’ve possibly known how much I would eventually value vacations.

The reason being that vacations are such a stark contrast to life with babies.  I didn’t change a diaper, wipe a nose, wipe away tears, feed somebody, bathe somebody, console somebody, clean up a mess, fold laundry, sing a silly song, or listen to Elmo. Not once, for nearly five days. Instead I found myself lying by the pool, reading magazines, having food and drinks brought to me. Somebody made my bed and cleaned my bathroom. And they left chocolates on my pillow. Everyday. I slept until I felt like getting up. And I found myself asking, This is my life? Funny thing is, it’s the very same question I ask myself a lot of the time, here, at home. I asked it today when Libby pooped four times, Annie pooped twice (in the car, the only place she ever poops), Libby decided to do the opposite of nearly everything I asked (including putting her shoes in the toilet, not on her feet), and Annie continuously had a mystery morsel of food in her mouth (none of which I had given her, but she had picked up from who knows where). This is my life? 

 Yeah, vacations are way better now. They’re infinitely more luxurious. And the best part is, as much as I enjoyed myself on vacation, I couldn’t wait to get home. I would never have imagined being so excited to leave behind the five days I just experienced. (Although, I have reminisced about them often!) But I was psyched. I couldn’t wait to get home to Annie scurrying, as fast as her little chunky thighs will take her, to get to me. I couldn’t wait for Libby’s constant requests for hugs all day long (especially when she knows she’s in trouble). I couldn’t wait to get home to my precious babies. With their poops and all.