Monday, February 6, 2012
But why is the rum gone?
Something amazing just happened. (Prior to Poopapalooza.)
Borderline miraculous, possibly.
I went away. On vacation. Without my children. And I relaxed. And it was unbelievable.
Months ago my friends Lynn and Jason decided I needed a vacation. They were right. Never would I have ever done it for myself, and if I had I would have backed out long before the trip actually came to pass. If they had not given me the trip I never would have gone. I doubt they’ll ever really understand how eternally grateful I am for them knowing what I needed when I needed it. Wow.
We cruised from
Tampa to Cozumel. I had some alone time when we embarked where I
tried to read, but mostly just had a panic attack that if anything happened to
my babies from that moment on that there was absolutely nothing I could do
Rum helped. More rum helped even more.
The next day we read and laughed and sunned and ate and drank and drank… Again, rum just makes everything better, doesn’t it?
Some new friends, lots of vitamin D, and a fabulous book didn’t hurt. Food for the soul.
We got pretty and ate and laughed and… drank more rum…
Kids? What kids?
Our day in
perfect. 80 degrees, quiet stretch of beach, and bottomless margaritas. I don’t
normally know Spanish, but after a few margaritas I became quite fluent… Lynn, who’d
had substantially fewer liters of alcohol than I did an excellent job
babysitting me and did my shopping and got me back to the boat safely and on
time… And translated my Spanish to the locals who needed to know more than that
I was a “muy blanca borracha,” or “very white drunk.”
The next day brought more sun, more rum, more food, more laughter, and more relaxation.
And more rum. Did I mention the rum before?
Four days of taking care of Mollie. Four days of no responsibilities, no diapers, no paperwork, no housework…
It was good for my soul… my heart… my mind… Probably every part of me except my liver, and it will recover soon enough.
I spend so much time telling mothers that they have to take care of themselves first, that they can’t take care of a family if they aren’t taking care of themselves. I’ve always said it, but I’ve never actually done it, and, wow. Four days of recharging my defunct batteries has given me more strength and motivation than I’ve had in a very, very long time.
Now I can’t figure out how I’m going to make it through the rest of the year without another one!