We weren't going to because our children. There are so many of them. And the baby will barely be past her 2-month vaccinations when we go. And, you know, she is a baby. And so is Cooper. Plus we have Mr. Questions. (Jack's pretty chill, though, so we'd totally take him).
But then we figured fuck it. Chaotic family vacations are the stuff of childhood memories.
Also, I need to get my anxious self on an airplane so that Ben and I can go to Vegas for his 35th birthday, which falls conveniently right around the time Dorothy will be a year old and I can leave her overnight because she won't need my boobs. And we have big plans to take the little heathens to Europe in a couple of years so Mr. Questions can see the Loch Ness already. Not to mention Disney World which looms in our future.
Plus, every time I dust the living room, I stare at a small framed picture of the 3 boys holding hands at the ocean's edge. And you know me, I dust that room at least 3 times a week.
So, for my 35th birthday, we are packing up the kids for beach-side a mini-break. We decided that 3 nights away from our beds and our routine is the absolute most nights we can spend. After that, the extended bedtimes and the eating all our meals at restaurants with Cooper who is an animal and Dorothy who cannot be put down and hates her car seat with passion will kill us.
Our requirements were simple:
Direct flight from either our small airport, Milwaukee, or O'Hare (I hate flying, so one takeoff/landing is a must. Plus I think the logistics of getting everyone on and off the plane are going to be brutal.)
Plane tickets at $400 or less since we have to buy 6. (FAA says all kids under 2 should be in a car seat, so everyone gets his/her own seat. I am a nervous flyer, and I read some horrible shit about lap babies and turbulence.)
Less than half a day of travel (On the way there, we'll be on the beach by 1:30, and on the way home, we should be raising the garage door at about the same time.)
No rental car (After schlepping 4 kids on and off the plane and through the airport, the last thing I want to do is take a goddamn shuttle bus to Hertz and pile into a Dodge Caravan. Plus Harry will shit his pants (metaphorically, I hope) if he gets to ride in a limo from the airport to the resort.)
5-star resort (With an awesome beach, at least one kiddie pool, a spa, enough restaurants that we can go somewhere else after the kids mortify us at one or two places, and a place for Harry and Jack to buy shark tooth necklaces, which was their favorite part of last year's trip to Hilton Head.)
No leaving the country (The US might have one of the shittiest healthcare systems in the developed world, but it's the healthcare system we know and love-- want to keep my freshly vaccinated baby stateside.)
So, Florida, here we come!
I am pretty excited even though I don't have a beach body yet. I have lost 20 pounds, but I've got a long way to go. So far, I weigh less everyday, but we are talking fractions of a pound a day. I just hope I can wear last year's fat vacation clothes, but even those seem a long way off.
It will be fun, though, to shop for Dorothy.
Speaking of, here's some stuff she's worn on her head lately:
Reasonably sized pink bow, which was short lived because she pooped through this outfit moments after I put it on.
This chunk of Cooper's granola bar
HAVE YOU EVER SEEN THIS MUCH SNOT COME OUT OF A BABY?