Jurls, Husband and I have just returned from three glorious nights in Sin City. This was a real adventure for us because since having kids we've not gone anywhere together overnight other than a quick trip to Austin. Husband always wants us to take more trips together, so I decided to give him a little Vegas vacation for Christmas even though it would kill me to leave our little soul suckers behind.
Since I was in charge of booking the trip we avoided a Circus Circus like residence and, instead, lived like royalty at the Wynn, a lush and gorgeous hotel. The Wynn is quite fab, but the best part was our bathroom because it had a huge soaking tub with a side, waterfall water faucet (I'm a sucker for the unusual water faucet) and NO three year old. I took my first long, hot bath before the sun set on our first day in Vegas, letting the water run for five minutes until I was sure a naked toddler wasn't going to come running through the door to hog up my private time. I'm like a soldier who has experienced deep trauma in battle....the whole time I was lounging in my swiiming pool of a tub I felt like I was hiding in a rice patti waiting for Charlie or 30 pounds of toddler to jump on my gut.
But these flashbacks were nothing compared to what I went through to get to Vegas because leading up to the trip I was full of anxiety since I'm crazy and I have a slight fear of flying and by slight I mean I cried the night before we left because my poor children were going to grow up orphans after our plane crashed in the desert. Did I mention the crazies have me?
So below I have summed up some of my pre-trip issues:
1) Dying in plane crash-- oh, well, at least my kids will inherit lots of money.
2) Will I fit in the airplane seat? I researched the legnth of airplane seat belts and was pretty convinced I would not be able to squeeze the wretched thing around my fat ass. I came across terrifying article of flight attendants forcing fatties to buy a second seat before they even tried to waddle on to the plane! Envision skinny bitch attendant on loud speaker at airport, "Would passenger Mosteller please report to the ticket counter to purchase a second seat for the second half of her big fat ass. Thank you!" I agonized over whether to prepare Husband for having to buy another seat, but decided against it in the hopes no one would notice I was chubby.
3) Realized two days before trip I had nothing to wear right down to my bras. I've only got two bras- in one the under wire has been completely blown out and the other is starting to falter under the pressure...sagging with a partially blown clasp- so I race around the Fat Barn searching for bras and a couple of outfits that resemble something kind of cute and Vegas like.
4) Spend all day planning to spend a wonderful night playing with my children and being an all around Supermom since I'm going to die in a plane crash. Promise myself I will write a letter to my children telling them how much I love them. Sniff. Sniff.
5) Get home and remember I have piles of laundry, packing, and picking-up to do. Toddler acts like she is possessed by the devil. I don't do anything resembling Supermom so I go to my (death)bed feeling like a complete loser. As I drift off to sleep remember I forgot to write my letter to my children so now they'll never know I loved them! Oh, well, too tired to get out of bed and write anything.
6) Said goodbye to my babies then headed to the airport with Husband for our selfish trip to Vegas.
7) On the plane I actually get the seat belt buckled. Hallelujer! Once we land I'm over the guilt and ready to see the sights. I'll worry about the seatbelt and the flight home in a couple of days.
Part 2 of Vegas Jurl Coming Soon.
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