Aside from the odd glitter fiesta, my life is pretty vanilla, solid, stable. These are all words that should bring clam to one’s psyche. For the most part, they do. Though there is another side to me that yearns for living outside the box and wouldn’t mind stepping on a few cracks along the way.
I credit a portion of my vanilla-happiness to my partner in crime, my husband, who shares my sense of humor and supports me in most everything I do. I write “most” because there are times I serenade him with:
Did you ever know that you’re the devil? The evilest man in all the world? I could fly higher than an eagle, but you clipped my wings and I fell to earth.
Bette Midler, eat your heart out.
However, even the most annoyingly logical of husbands can surprise you on occasion. So can your childhood friends.
They are the reason I find myself having a million heart attacks as I step way outside my comfort zone in this, the infancy of my 37th year.
Mrs M, emailed me in February. The gist of her email was: Do you want to fly anywhere in the world Westjet flies with me? She works for Westjet and after a crappy winter, weather wise, the owner of the company gifted his entire staff with two free tickets. Now, that is a company philosophy that I can get behind.
YES! I wrote back, shaking. I was having an out of body experience. How could I leave my children? I couldn’t turn down this opportunity.
We can’t go to Disneyland, our children will kill us, but we can go anywhere you see a red dot on the screen, she wrote back.
I studied the screen. There were a lot of red dots on a lot of exotic places. Places I always dreamed of going; places I’d forgotten were exotic.
Never mind our children, the safe bet was Disneyland. Mrs M and I had a hilarious time there in 1996: two carefree teens, fresh from high school with Fantasyland at our fingertips. But now we would be 37. Anything carefree had to involve some careful planning. Namely: who would look after my children?
My husband said ‘yes’ way too fast for my still spinning brain to process. There I was waiting for him to lower the boom; to clip my wings and make me fall to earth; and he gave me the easiest ‘yes’ to ever emerge from his lips. He’d take a week off work; take care of the kids, no problem. Where were we going?
Where were we going? Gulp. There I was, hoping my husband would throw a flag on the play and let me take the easy road, sorry I can’t leave my children, but oh-no, it was full steam ahead.
After salivating over the red dots, I had my favourite: San Francisco. Didn’t hurt that the opening to Full House was filmed there. Could I be more immature? Okay, adult wise, it was in the same time zone as my littles and the plane ride was quick.
Side note: I dislike flying. Ever since my plane to Costa Rica (in 2000) flew through a thunderstorm, I have much preferred roadtrips and boats. Ironically, Mrs. M, dislikes swimming, my profession, so we make a great pair.
Mrs. M and I narrowed the red dots to New York, San Fran, and Vegas. All amazing places, but I let Mrs. M choose, they were her tickets.
She chose Las Vegas. As a flight attendant, she’s flown in and out of Vegas but never stayed. She’d also heard it was cheap and fun from passengers.
How could I argue with that? Sorry, Danny Tanner.
As our Mama’s week marches closer, I have to remind myself to breathe. I can’t prevent the big things from happening while I’m gone: major earthquakes. Nor should I fret upon the small things: girls going to school with daddy hair.
The truth is: I don’t need a break from my children and I’ll miss them something awful. For some, leaving your kids for an adult vacation is natural. For me it feels like I’m petting a cat backwards.
However, when you’re a mum with littles, opportunities like this only come around a handful of times, if ever. So even if I lounge in bed, order room service and catch up on TV, all week (I won’t) I’ve got to go. After all, how can I tell my girlies to grab life by the horns if I don’t practice what I preach?
So, here’s to doing one thing that pushes you outside of your comfort zone. And here’s to adventure!