Whirlwind Weekend

This past weekend was a whirlwind.  A break from reality that made me appreciate mine more than I had anticipated.  On Friday, I flew to Miami for a bachelorette weekend celebrating one of my oldest friends.  First, I overslept.  This is almost comical since I get such little sleep to begin with and feel as though I’m up at all hours anyway.  I should have known this would happen though, waking up early (and not just in the middle of the night for a crying child) has never been easy for me.
When I told my husband that my flight left at 7am, he said, “So what’s your backup flight?”  It takes an hour to drive to the airport. I had set two alarms, each for 4-something. I didn’t hear them, but instead awoke at 5:25am when the friend whose house I was supposed to be at already to carpool with was calling me to say, “Where the fuck are you? I’m leaving!”  By 5:35am, I was out the door and driving myself to the airport, having told her I was so sorry and I’d try to meet her on the plane.  Luckily at that time of day, there’s no traffic. As I sped into the entrance of the airport, I thought I had made excellent time.  So did the cop who pulled me over.
Since I was already feeling anxious about a) probably missing my flight, b) making my 4-month-pregnant friend rush to catch the flight, and c) my fear of flying, it didn’t take much to get the waterworks flowing.  As the officer approached my car, I handed him my license with a shaky hand and tears streaming down my cheeks. He took pity on me and let me go.  Thank you, officer!  I booked it through the airport (mentally thanking my surgeon for the excellent support and feeling awesome that my boobs no longer bounce as I run), skipped ahead at security and made it to the gate.  I’m pretty sure I was the very last person allowed on the aircraft, because as I approached the ticket counter at the gate, the attendant greeted me by name handing me my ticket with a roll of the eyes and a sarcastic smile.  Fortunately for me, my friend was kind and didn’t read me the riot act that I had been expecting.  She was just laughing at the ridiculousness of the trip already and we hadn’t even made it to the male stripper part of the weekend.
A weekend like this could have made me feel one of two ways.  I could have gone Thelma and Louise style and after getting the little taste of freedom from my usual life of diapers, bath-times, and bottles, called my husband and said, “I need a few more days… and by days, I mean years.  Call me when they get their period.”  But for me, it went the total opposite way.  Yes, I really enjoyed having a moment to dip in the ocean by myself, have lengthy, uninterrupted conversations with friends, and read something that had nothing to do with a curious monkey or a princess (unless you count Kate Middleton’s pregnancy diet). However, after 48 hours, I wanted my husband and my girls back. It was wonderful to have the chance to get away with my girlfriends, but going to get cupcakes with my girls today was just as much fun!

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