I wish I had photos from our trip to Las Vegas. Despite the fact that they would all be embarrassing, I would absolutely post them with pride – because we had a great time. We let loose. We partied like we hadn’t in a decade. And I’m not one bit ashamed of any of it. Maybe that means I didn’t party as hard as I think I did, but I’m the mom of a toddler. The bar was set pretty low.
Our last day was spent having a two-hour lunch at Olive’s while watching the Bellagio fountains from a veranda. We layed out in the sun, and I got to feel like a goddess in my little purple bikini bought just for the trip. We went to a seriously terrible buffet at Terribles with the inlaws (thanks for dinner, guys!) and watched Penn and Teller turn coins into goldfish before boarding the plane to come home that night. It was an amazing, indulgent day.
Again, I took no pictures. But this was our view from lunch. Thanks, google image search!
Is it any wonder that upon returning home to four loads of laundry, a needy cat and toddler, and a messy house that both the hubby and I gave each other a look that said “Seriously? Can we go back?” In Vegas, I didn’t wash dishes. I didn’t have to wipe anyone’s butt (Okay, except for mine, of course. Although I bet you can find someone in Vegas who would do that, too, for the right price.). And I could focus on myself and my husband. The fact that I was still longing for those things had me feeling terribly guilty and anxious. Did it mean I didn’t love my life here at home? I thought things were pretty good. You know, before I left reality for Las Vegas.
We’ve been home since Monday. We’re starting to get back into our routine. My eyes are no longer itchy and I’m already taking for granted that the air isn’t clouded with cigarette smoke. I’m soaking up hugs from DoodleBug (whose picture I stole looks at on my phone constantly while on vacation). I missed how she smells after bathtime…and staring at her hazel eyes…and the way she says “silly” without pronouncing any of the L’s. I’m glad to have the peace and quiet of our little country neighborhood, interrupted only by the sound of my daughter humming Ode to Joy while she dresses up her stuffed animals. Turns out I’m pretty glad to be home after all.
So I’m not going to let myself feel guilty for taking a few days just for me. For my husband’s family (congrats to the newlyweds!). And for my marriage. Vacations are a break from the daily grind. It makes complete sense that returning to that grind can be a tough transition, and I’m cutting myself some slack for feeling a little blue. Besides, I’m not pining for neon lights or the hypnotic midi music of the slot machines. It’s not the complete lack of responsibilty I’m missing. It’s the escape. The time to myself. The fun.
Hubs and I have come back from this trip remembering how much fun it is to spend quality time together. We’re both committed to setting a new routine that puts US back at the top of the priority list. There’s a new energy between us: more flirting, more cooperation, more understanding, more romance. It’s as if we somehow packed a little bit of Vegas in our carry-ons and brought it home.
The pictures? Would have been a nice. But this energy is the ultimate keepsake.