Three weeks ago we decided we could use a weekend away. We have a ton of frequent flier miles to use, so we looked to see where we could go that wasn’t cold and snowy, or overrun with drug cartel. Hawaii was it.
We flipped through our calendars, found a free weekend, and booked the flights. We found a condo, a rental car, and a hotel near the Oakland airport for the night before our early morning flights. Done. We’re going.
Tonight I’ll toss a bathing suit, flip flops, and a book or two into a carry-on bag, plus a couple of dresses for the evening, and we’re outta here. By the time some of you read this today, I will be horizontal on a beach towel, fully on Island Time.
For the purposes of this post, I gave a little thought to how this story might have unfolded if we’d decided to take an impromptu weekend away with a baby in tow. It’s possible it could have been much the same, right until the packing began, but once I reached the part where I’m juggling a baby, a stroller, a car seat, and three suitcases of paraphernalia through the airport, I stopped trying to imagine what my “dream” life would have been like.
I’m in no denial about the many wonderful things I won’t get to experience because I don’t have children, but nor am I going to lie to myself or anyone else about the silver linings that have come along too.
My impromptu trip is definitely one of them.