I remember when we came home from St John in 2009. I'd had 9 days of no responsibilities whatsoever--I didn't even drive a car while I was there. And I loved it. I loved waking up and not having to worry about anyone but myself. I loved the ocean, loved the sun, loved the freedom.
So much so that when I got home, I freaked out because I didn't want to get all the responsibility back that I had before I left. I love my children and my husband and our little family. But sometimes.... getting in the car by myself and driving South until I can't drive anymore sounds really appealing. Especially in 2009, when my Dad got sick and the stock market was still in turmoil and I had to deal with all that on top of my normal everyday responsibilities.
This trip, I had the kids and my husband, so I still had a lot of responsibility (packing for 10 days for three people--thankfully Mark does pack for himself--is a ton of work, especially when you stay in three different hotels and have to repack three times) but I didn't have "real life" responsibility.
The beach was laid back and peaceful and AWESOME. (I should have been born near an ocean.)
Daytona beach, around 7 pm. Our hotel was on the beach; we just walked down some stairs and were right there. It was amazing.
Disney was exhausting but fun. Seaworld was inspiring; Discovery Cove, where Mark & Sophie swam with a dolphin and where Sophie learned to snorkel around a salt-water coral reef, was like paradise.
Breakfast with the Disney characters at Chef Mickey's. This was our most expensive mael on the entire trip.... Mark got us the last walk-in table--I couldn't get a reservation before we left, because they were all booked. We had no idea we'd be paying $128 (I know!!) for a breakfast buffet. Still, it was a ton of fun. All the characters stopped at our table and let us take pictures.
It was great to be home yesterday. We were all tired, but it was pleasant to be back home and still together.
Today, I knew, would suck.
I got Sophie off to her first week of summer camp, Luke back to daycare, picked up the mail at the post office, sorted through it, got ready for work (I hadn't done my hair and makeup beyond eyeliner and mascara for over a week, so that was hard too), and got to the office at 11:30. The whole time, I was depressed and wanted to cry.
I downloaded our pictures from the trip at work. That helped a bit. I plan to get them printed right away so we can get a photo album put together soon--I don't want to end up letting this trip slip away and not have the memories in an album, so whenever we want to, we can relive our first big vacation as a family.
There aren't many pictures of me, which is normal when Mom is the photographer (and my husband's close-up eyesight is terrible without his reading glasses, so when he takes a picture he can barely see if it's "good" or not--even the ones he did take of me are pretty lousy). But there are enough for me to see the weight gain. My upper arms are sadly the most depressing part of my body; they just seem so much bigger than I remember from when I was heavier before. I did wear sleeveless a lot, which I know is a fashion don't for me right now, but it was Florida and I wanted to be comfortable.
Sophie and me at my favorite Disney park, Hollywood Studios.
Luke and me on the Nemo ride (we're in a clamshell) at Epcot.
I didn't look any worse than many other moms we saw. Sure, there were plenty of gorgeous hard bodies, but we were at family locations mostly and there are a lot of middle aged moms who look just like I do.
Still. It was only two years ago I looked at pictures of vacation and thought, Damn, I look hot.
So. I'm depressed about being home, depressed about my body, depressed I have such a ridiculous amount of stuff to do to recover from vacation. Depressed because I thought about my Dad a lot on vacation, and I didn't have anywhere to put those emotions while we were in a happy place, so they are still stuffed down inside of me. Depressed because I don't know why I keep longing for an escape to a life by the sea that will never happen. Depressed I can't let myself be happy with the blessed life I've been handed on a silver platter.
I know this will pass. It's only temporary. I have many, many happy memories of our trip. It truly was special and magical. I didn't worry (much) about my pudgy arms and belly while we were vacationing. I had a lot of fun, and enjoyed every precious second with my children and husband.
But today, the after of vacation is a bummer.
I haven't weighed yet. I'm sure I gained weight over vacation, but I am still pretty bloated and don't want to "see" that bloat on the scale yet. I'll probably weigh in a few days, after I've eaten clean food for a while. One good thing about vacation--I am sick of eating food prepared by someone else, which hopefully translates to my eating home-cooked, healthy stuff for a long time.