Facebook’s little newsreel thing told me today about Prince having a home in Turks and Caicos, and all I could think was, “Well of course he did.” Adam’s college roommate got married a couple weeks ago in T&C and it was The Shit. I had been in such a funk beforehand, and we as a couple were in this crappy rut where we were pretty much just coparenting and super exhausted all of the time and not really making time for each other or our marriage. Every marriage should come with a house in Turks and Caicos.
I’m not going to lie. I was for real trying to think of ways that I could just stay home. My allergies were B-A-N-A-N-A-S and I felt like death. Trying to shop, pack a bag for myself, clean the house, pack a bag for the kids while they stayed with Adam’s parents- it was all pretty overwhelming. And this was just a few days after Listen to Your Mother, so I barely even had a chance to breathe. The last thing I wanted was a vacation, because when you’re a mother, vacations mean a crap ton of work, before and after, and I was not feeling capable.
On top of all that, I’ve been feeling this baby weight. I have barely made a dent in losing what I put on during my pregnancy, and it’s been making me feel extra frustrated because we are closing in on her first birthday. Getting a handle on my diet and exercise has been much harder the second time around. So I was not at all looking forward to being on a beach or having to wear shorts and tank tops or a bathing suit. Overall, I was not stoked.
But I managed. I got the house cleanish. I managed to shop a little and pack some clothes. Old Navy was surprisingly on it when I went in there. I usually find nothing for myself in that store; I just shop for the kids. But apparently they were taken over by someone that used to work for H&M and he saved everything and now it’s a store that has cute things. So go check it out if you haven’t in a while. Anyways, I got myself and the kids packed, got the house in okay shape to come home to, and went with Adam to the airport.
And in the airport, the weirdest thing happened.
My husband held my hand.
My husband put his arm around me.
And it hit me that I can’t remember the last time we both had enough hands available for such a simple thing. We are holding kids, holding hands, carrying their crap, pushing strollers, blocking our kids from running in front of cars. Two kids takes up a lot of hands. And suddenly being without them, as much as I missed them, I let out the longest sigh because this was so nice. I got to be a wife with my husband. And we were only at the airport at this point!
When we arrived in Turks and Caicos that night, we checked in at our hotel, which was quaint and islandy and perfect. Then we walked down the road to the resort, where the wedding would take place, and caught the tail-end of our friends hanging out on the beach after the rehearsal. The sand felt like baby powder. Adam and I stopped for some dinner, headed back to our hotel, and crashed with the comforting knowledge that we weren’t going to wake up until we wanted to.
Adam is a weirdo and decided to get up early the next morning to go running on the beach with his friends, who are also weirdos. I stayed and slept like a sane person. When he was done, we ate breakfast and walked to the grocery store with another friend to get supplies for the weekend. Supplies= cheese and booze. I found the last bottle of my beloved $7 champagne, that was marked up to $15. Still way cheaper than anything else on the island. Adam found a six pack of cans that just said Rum. He didn’t know what else was in them, since they couldn’t be entirely filled with rum and only have an 8% content, so he bought them to find out.
Those cans were filled with rum and Coke and they were goddamn delightful. We went back to our room to get ready and snack and work up a good buzz, then walked down the street again for the wedding. Everyone should get married on an island. Everyone. It was so perfect. The ceremony was on the beach and the reception was basically on the beach. We danced and ate and hung out with friends we hardly get to see anymore. We drank more rum. At the end of the night, not wanting a hangover, Adam and I decided to go swimming, then eat a bunch of cheese and fruit and drink enough water to fill the pool. It worked.
The next day, everyone that attended the wedding rented a catamaran together, and we set sail on a snorkeling adventure. I brought a book because when I try to snorkel, my brain screams WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU CAN’T BREATH UNDER THE WATER YOU WILL DIE MAYDAY MAYDAY!!! There were some light snacks on the boat, like pretzels and chips, and they had soda and water and beer for everyone. And there was rum. Oh god. The rum.
One of our friends made it her mission to make sure no one had a cup without rum. If you drank your rum, there she was. “Rum!” I come here today to tell you that sun, heat, the ocean, only eating a few chips, and a shit load of rum, are not things that all add up to a good day. We came back to shore a specific kind of drunk. I was angry drunk. I wanted food. I didn’t want to walk anymore. And I wanted to hit something.
I was mostly sober after eating and resting for a bit, and drinking enough water to pee every ten minutes for the rest of the day. Adam took good care of me, and we were ready in time to meet everyone back at the resort to grill out for dinner. Unfortunately, not everyone faired so well, and our numbers were very depleted that night. Rum.
The next morning was our last, and we had to fly home shortly after lunchtime. That is a story for another day. If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook, you probably have already read some about that shit show nightmare in Hell. What should have been two quick flights home turned into 26 hours in airports and on airplanes, and about 12 hours of me yelling on my phone at American Airlines. So, you know, tune in next time.