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Posts Tagged ‘vacation’

Despite the many trials of taking a child on vacation, I did, in fact, have a good time.

Once C adjusted to the time change, and I adapted to living out of one room, we began to find a rhythm to our days.

1. We figured out a solution to the eating situation, which largely meant me anticipating C’s needs and feeding him before the hungry whining started.  It also meant that we could never eat alone.  By the time I was finished feeding C, he was more than ready to get up and go, leaving my stomach empty and rumbling.  Having my family entertain C in shifts actually allowed me to finish a meal! Miracle! I don’t even get to do that at home (for example, I ate half of my spaghetti dinner out of the pot while putting things away after C was done).

2. Nap time=mommy time. C getting up every day between 4:30 and 7:30 meant he was ready for a nap no later than 11.  And for whatever karmic reason, each nap was two hours! I finished 4 books and 4 magazines in ten days.  No dishes, no laundry, no beds to make. Amen!

3. The pool was awesome! We visited the pool everyday after 3pm.  Why after 3, you ask? Well, I am lily white, my son is slightly less blindingly white, and the sun is both hot and strong in Hawaii.  Going in the late afternoon minimized the time we spent in the sun at its worst.  Also, for some reason, most tourists liked to be out at the pool in the middle of the day, sweating their behinds off (I don’t get it!).  So the pool was much less crowded and lounge chairs, in the shade no less, were available.

I would spend half an hour to forty-five minutes playing with C in the wonderful water and sand, until a family member would relieve me  so I could read, doze and enjoy a cocktail.  It was heavenly.

4. The iPad wasn’t actually created by Apple and Steve Jobs. It was made by God as compensation for challenging children.  Trust me on this.  Buy one and you’ll see that it is literally heaven sent. We would not have survived dinners out or long afternoons hiding from the heat without the innovations of the iPad.  we just had to prop it up on the table and C could watch his favorite movies anywhere we went.  Crisis averted!

(on a side note: I could happily go the next five years without seeing “Milo and Otis” again.  As charming as Dudley Moore’s narration is, one can only watch a dog and cat suffer obvious animal cruelty as they “frolick” through their adventure.)

Now that we’re back, life may be a little easier but it’s missing those few moments of blissful relaxation one can only find in Hawaii.

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It’s been roughly a week since I got back from vacation, and yes, it took me all week to get back on track.  By that I mean I literally finished the last load of laundry earlier this evening.  I don’t know if I have ever had that much dirty laundry at once….ever.  I hope not to repeat it any time soon.

Aside from the mountains of dirty clothes my son and I created while on vacation, we also had an excellent time.  Well…mostly excellent.

Nobody warned me how much work it was to take a child on vacation.

Every child rearing book, every mommy website touted the pleasures of family vacations:

How great it is to get away with your kids! How much they’ll enjoy the adventure! How you’ll treasure every new experience together! Yay! Memories!

(And, oh wait, you’ll need to bring a mountain of stuff with you…..and buy a mountain of stuff once you arrive….and the baby may not be too happy about a new environment/time zone/schedule. But aside from all that, it will be totally awesome.)

First, let me be clear, I DID have a lovely time.  It was just the first few days that were pretty rough.

We had a tough time adjusting to the time change, initially.  C’s “at-home” wake up time is usually around 7:30 am, which is totally acceptable.  However, Hawaii is three hours behind us, so 7:30 became 4:30.  As in 4:30 in the morning!! As in two whole hours before the sun gets up! Not my favorite time of day.  But really, whose favorite time of day is it?

This horrendous wake up time thus negatively affected our entire day.  It made dinner nearly impossible, as C was so exhausted by 6 pm that he was ready to go to bed without eating.  Each day I struggled to keep him awake longer and longer so that we might actually enjoy dinner with the family (i.e. one of the best parts of vacation).  I was able to accomplish this for the last three nights, or, as I like to think of it, just in time to completely get off our “at-home” schedule.  But at least I accomplished my goal.  That’s something right?

Aside from the schedule issues, adjusting to eating at a restaurant for every meal or snacking on ready-to-serve foods from the mini-fridge in the room was a challenge as well.  C didn’t like most of the items on the kids’ menu at the hotel and was only amenable to two of the grocery store snacks I got him.  After two days of struggling to get him to adhere to the healthy meals plan we have at home, I gave in and let C eat french fries at every meal (aside from breakfast), along with a regular rotation of chicken nuggets, hot dogs, and sandwiches.  When he wouldn’t eat those, I fed him frozen yogurt mixed with fruit, or not, whichever he would get down.

Essentially, I decided my little man and I would indulge for the duration of our stay in paradise.  C can always use an extra pound, since he is only in the 25th percentile for weight, and me, well, I need to get back on Weight Watchers after my birthday next week anyways (so what’s 3 extra pounds to me?).

Mother of the year award heading my way anytime soon?  Probably not.

Oh well.  I think I’ll live.

(And to illustrate my point of schedule issues, C just woke up.  Baby Vacay Part 2 tomorrow…or maybe Monday…we’ll see…I’m definitely not super mom over here).

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Being the intelligent person I am, I scheduled a massage for myself and a friend Friday morning, despite the fact I knew I’d want to go out the night before.  Perhaps I didn’t anticipate just how excited I was to get a mommy’s night off. I was very very excited, and Friday morning, that excitement had turned into pain.

I peeled my eyes open at 9:30am, knowing I needed to get dressed and ready for my 10:30 spa appointment.  I lay there for quite a while, trying to muster the strength to get out of bed and into the shower.  Nausea overcame me.  Ohhhhh no.  Well, I didn’t have time to order breakfast anyways, so I was just going to have to survive until after my massage.

Out of the shower and down to the lobby, I must have looked a sight.  No makeup, dark circles, wet hair plastered to my head, a tunic sweater thrown over my jeans.  I don’t even remember what shoes I was wearing.

Focusing on walking, I made it to the spa.  My birthday girl was waiting for me, looking well rested and perky.  Grrrr!  I pondered just telling the spa attendant to give her whatever she wanted before making a bee-line back to my room, but I hung in there.  The nausea was now coming in waves.  No time for chit chat, I just needed to focus on one task at a time.  Get my locker.  Change into robe.  Walk to waiting room.  Make sure the birthday girl had everything she needed.  Follow attendant into inner sanctum of the spa.  I did not pay attention to how I got to the inner sanctum, which made leaving interesting.

A quick bathroom trip and I was a little less green around the gills.  At least I’d be able to survive the massage.  It was extremely relaxing, but did nothing for my hangover.  Meeting up with the birthday girl post massage, I quickly paid it all off and headed back.  I was relieved she’d enjoyed her massage even if I’d been terrible company in the little time we’d spent together in various waiting rooms.

I crawled back into bed minutes after the spa released me.  I fumbled with the phone, begging someone anyone at the front desk to bring me Dramamine.  I finally ordered a sandwich as well, having not eaten in nearly 24 hours.

Things began to improve dramatically once both of these items arrived, though the bell man who dropped off the Dramamine looked at me a little warily (in case you didn’t know, Dramamine is an awesome hangover remedy.  It combats nausea and dizziness, while making you sleepy so you can usually nap off any remaining hangover side effects).  I ate about a quarter of my sandwich, a handful of fries, and went back to bed.

Around 2 pm I started to feel noticeably better and began getting ready for the wedding and reception to come.  I actually made it to the wedding on time, fully dressed and made up.  I decided to skip the party bus following the ceremony in favor of a nap and met everyone up at the reception.

To my joy, my husband finally joined us at the reception just after it started.  And though I was still a little shaky, a few bloody marys and a few appetizers made the rest of the night pretty darn good.

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I apologize for the rather short and terse post last thursday afternoon.  To make up for it, here’s breakdown of my weekend in the first of a few posts.

I dropped off Baby C at my parent’s house, which only took about an hour and a half to drive from LA to OC, meaning I was already running late.  My benevolent father then drove me to the airport after I snuck out of the house before C could cling to me and cry.  This was accomplished by using food as a distraction.  I am not above bribing children with food.

After being dropped off at the airport about an hour and 20 minutes before my flight, I began to breath a slight sigh of relief, despite my somewhat frazzled, single state (that’s right still no husband in sight).  This relief was short-lived as I saw the line for Jet Blue.  WTH?!?!?!  If you’ve ever been to the Long Beach airport, you know that it’s about the size of a postage stamp and typically very easy to navigate.  Lines are short, security is fast, waiting areas are small.  My tension began to rise as I worried about my decision to bring a check-in bag rather than a carry-on.  Trying not to have a panic attack in the airport, I waited in tense silence as I inched ever closer to the bag drop line.  Watching the clock tick minutes past, I had only a five minute window to drop my bag when finally it was my turn.  And when my bag weighed a full 3 lbs under the 50 lb cutoff, I actually did a little dance of joy!  Woo hoo!

Still, I was running late.  I had to get through security, hopefully get a bite to eat as it was now 7:30pm and I’d had no dinner, before stepping on the plane.  Again, I hit a snag.  Security took too long, so food was out of the question.  Well, maybe I could at least get a drink.  Nope, the tiny bar (I’ve seen larger bars in friend’s family rooms) was over-run by an amateur soccer team, and I mean amateur in every sense of the word.  Well, at least I could get a drink on the plane.

A few more minutes tick by and we’re on the plane.  The amateur soccer team is harassing the flight attendants.  As we’re taxing down the runway, I hear one of the flight attendants threaten to go back to the gate.  At that I felt a very strong desire to start throwing things.  Thankfully some of the other passengers also heard this and were none too happy.  I guess the boys finally realized their behavior is somewhat inappropriate and shut up.  Thank goodness!

Oh, did I mention that my flight was alcohol free?

At least it was only 50 minutes.

Upon landing a friend was waiting for me at the airport in Vegas, we grabbed a taxi and headed for the Bellagio.  I checked in, grabbed my bag and my friend and headed to the room (Still no husband).  We quickly changed, well not so quickly.  I tried on three rather trendy outfits before opting for a more classic look of black skirt, black knee-high boots, grey “luxe” shirt with a necklace pattern and rhinestones.  At least I’d gotten my hair done that day so I didn’t have to worry about that!  Whew!

We finally started our night around 11pm.  I was excited!  Friends, alcohol, music, alcohol, dancing, alcohol.   In the course of the night I perhaps got a little over excited about the alcohol since I’d not had dinner.  Here are some of the highlights, in roughly chronological order.

Our waitress at the Bellagio lakeside bar was surly and slow.  To compensate for this, I began ordering two Kettle and tonics at a time.  I also tried to talk other members of my group to do the same.  I only convinced one of them, another was already pretty tipsy, and the third wanted to go to bed (and he mocked me for ordering two!).

After a certain person went to bed, we decided to go to head out of the Bellagio.  But not having been to Vegas recently, none of us knew where to go and also being slightly drunk at this point we were easily talked into going to a club that offered $20 all you can drink well-drinks for ladies!  Great!  What we need at this point in the evening is more alcohol!  And a club that is offering such a sweet deal would definitely be the place to go!

Oh, but it was not.  I wanted to leave after we got a our first drink.  I could not convince the other two girls that we should do this.  We were all summarily punished for this.

We were harassed by, well, everyone.

And then we met the Canadians.  Although they were not wearing anything with either Maple leaves or Canadian flags, I was able to properly identify them as our Northern neighbors after hearing a few of them use those long, tell-tale Os.  My friend then apologized to the Canadians for her racist, profiling drunk friend for calling them Canadians.  That’s right, racist.  However, the Canadians happily informed her that I was actually correct and then proceeded to talk about how great Canada was for the next 2o minutes.  I also informed one of them that he looked like my favorite handy man Mike Holmes.

The three of us then argued about bachelorette parties, trips abroad, whether or not I was racist towards Canadians (we decided I actually wasn’t racist).  We then left the casino “early” for bed.  There is some debate about what time that actually was, ranging from 3:30 to 5am.

Still no husband in sight, one of my friends stayed with me in my otherwise empty room.  But apparently wanted to punish me for allowing her to be my roommate for the night by not allowing me to eat at whatever time we got home, despite the fact I still hadn’t eaten since lunch.

Vodka for dinner is never a good idea.

Needless to say, this made for a very long day/night two.  Part two tomorrow.

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This week I am completely, utterly absorbed by my upcoming trip to Vegas (more on that tomorrow).  I couldn’t be more excited!  Honestly, not possible.

However, I’m a little concerned about my wardrobe.  I always feel like going to Vegas is an opportunity to wear your best, most fashionable clothes.  I realize that all the hillbillies from Fontana and such places (I apologize if you are a hillbilly from Fontana) bring down the fashion level in Vegas by wearing their Kmart jeans and Three Wolf Moon t-shirts.  (Please click on that link and read the reviews for that shirt. Hilarious!) Yet, I am not going to bow to this kind of social pressure.  I want to look my best.

These days, though, my best usually consists of sweaters from Ann Taylor Loft, preppy dresses from Anthropologie, and skirts from Banana or Gap.  And while adorable for baby or bridal showers, church or other such housewife related events, are they really Vegas appropriate?

Cute dresses, but not exactly sexy huh?

Vegas, otherwise known as Sin City, calls for something a little sexier, a little more je ne sais quoi.

But at 29 and a half, I feel a bit silly walking into Bebe or other such stores, not to mention the bosom motherhood has given me won’t actually fit into the clothes found at such stores without looking like, well, a hooker. I don’t think that as a mother of an 11 month old baby boy I should be parading around anywhere looking like a hooker.  There’s something unsavory about that.

So I’ve been scouring my usual stores (via the internet) for items that have an understated sexiness.  As if I’m hinting that yes, I am subtly sexy, but I don’t care to flaunt it.

I’ve found a few items but I’m concerned about the fine line between subtly sexy and Mom-ish, which I am trying desperately to walk.  I’ll keep looking and let you know how it turns out.  For now, I’ve eliminated all sweater sets, corduroy skirts, and slip-on tennies.   I think I’m on the right track.

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