I love vacations. Love adventures. Love planning, prepping and packing for vacations.
But sometimes, preparing to go on vacation just seems like an awful lot of work. So much so, that vacation almost doesn’t even seem worth it.
There’s just so much to do before you can even think about leaving.
That’s how I felt last week.
Getting tax stuff finished.
Packing for Asher.
Packing for Zeek.
Packing for me.
NOT packing for Skyler, because I would fail miserably.
Packing snacks and food.
Packing games and toys and books.
Packing snow gear.
Finishing up some paperwork for health insurance.
Skyler having his final.
I can’t even think of everything now. I probably blocked it out.
Cleaning house so that it was tidy to come home to.
Deep cleaning the car.
Baking snacks for the road trip to California and Nevada.
I was spent.
I almost threw in the towel and said I didn’t even want to go on vacation.
I was running around frantically on Thursday, finishing up packing and making food and cleaning. Then my mother in law called at 4:09 pm. As soon as the phone rang, I remembered I had a massage scheduled (a postpartum treat that I think I deserve! ;)) at 4:15. It takes 15 minutes from our house to the massage office. I hadn’t fed Asher for over an hour at that point, but I thrust him into Skyler’s arms anyway, told him I forgot about my massage and dashed out the door.
I drove in a hurry to my appointment and was about 10 minutes late. My awesome masseuse didn’t even bat an eye at my tardiness (hopefully not because it’s habitual of me to be late… but probably). And I sank onto her massage table for that most desirable hour of not hearing “mommy eat, mommy poo poo, pee pee, mommy, mommy mommy!”
I laid there and just had to laugh at my own frazzled-self. (And apologize to my masseuse.) I remembered my massage the day before. It just was no where on my radar that morning. Normally, I really prepare for either a massage or chiropractor appointment by showering, make up, full granny-panty underwear if getting a massage (since you strip down to just underwear! Don’t need to expose her to my bare buns! Her poor soul…) Painted toenails and really clean feet (because I wouldn’t want to massage gross looking feet!).
By God’s grace, I had at least managed a shower (which never usually happens if I don’t plan on leaving the house for the day…) and had thrown on some decent clothes (not my yoga pants! Go me!) and threw my hair up in my messy bun.
But otherwise, I was raw.
No make up.
Except for some smudged eyeliner from the day before.
Teeth that hadn’t been brushed since the night before.
Chipped toe-nail polish while wearing sandals.
I had only shaved one leg that morning.
Yes, I did realize what I had done as soon as I got out of the shower, but I had so much on my to-do list that I didn’t care to get back in and shave the other. Call me lazy. Or half-hippy.
Thankfully I WAS wearing granny panty’s. We’ll call that luck.
Clearly, I needed the massage.
And it was gooood.
I got home relaxed and ready to conquer the rest of my to-do list. I finished up all of the laundry and was just about to start the last load at 9:30 pm, which would be the cloth diaper load (so they wouldn’t get moldy and rot for the week we’d be gone). I loaded them in the machine and… nothing.
The power button wouldn’t turn on.
We checked the circuits. We checked the electrical outlet.
Our wonderful new washing machine just was dead.
I’m not sure which was more irritated about. My slightly over a year old expensive machine calling it quits, or the fact that it was stuffed full of poopy and pee-pee cloth diapers that would surely rot after just sitting there filthy for a week (been there done that).
So, we did what we had to do:
We dumped them into the bathtub and gave them a good old fashioned washing. With lots of soap and a wooden spoon or two. Skyler, mister world traveler, wasn’t phased at all. “I had to wash my clothes like this all the time in Brazil.”
I took a picture to remember this moment because I knew some day that this would make me laugh. Some day. NOT that day.
After this fiasco, I was even more ready to throw in the towel and not do the whole “vacation” business.
But somehow, surely by God’s grace alone, we managed to get out the door the next morning with a car loaded to the brim and two happy little boys. And only 45 minutes later than I wanted to. I count it as a win.
And you know what? Vacation has been awesome.
I needed it.
And God knew it.
Thank God for vacations. And how they always seem to come at a point in my life when I really need one.
Havin’ a blast in South Lake Tahoe. 🙂 Will post pictures and adventures tomorrow. But for now, the house is quiet, the fireplace is going out, I’m finishing up my Blue Moon and I’m going to head downstairs and climb into the warm bed with my husband.
Good night and happy spring break!