When my husband and I first met we found a mutual love for travel. Since then we have travelled all over the world. Our first trip together was after three months of dating and we road-tripped for a week in the deep south. (Completely recommend New Orleans for a new couple. So romantic and outrageous.) Soon after that we were in Seattle, Alaska, Phoenix, Washington D.C., Atlanta, Colorado, Scotland, France, Germany and Italy. It’s been amazing. We are so spoiled. Two young people making good money individually and with no debt to speak of.
Last year we had our daughter. An amazing blessing. Love her so incredibly much that I barely missed traveling. When I was pregnant I couldn’t even drive for too long because I was so sick and had a high-risk pregnancy. After I had her, the physical problems continued on top of stress from my husband being relocated for his job. So there I was (am) in our house alone with a newborn and so severely anemic I could barely walk up the stairs without assistance. Luckily for me, I have family all over and they came to the rescue without much more than a word from me. But since we’ve gotten my health sorted out and I’m starting to get a handle on this Mommy business, I’m itching for my old traveling days. I want to take my daughter and explore the world!
The catch? My husband’s new job, while a good one, only allows for two weeks a year of vacation time. That includes individual days off. That’s insane. Another stipulation is that he has to split the two weeks up. One week in the first 6 months of the year. One week in the last 6 months. This year our vacations have been scheduled as soon as Baby was born. In April, my husband’s grandparents are driving up to spend the week with us. We’re not going anywhere. Sigh. In August, we’re flying out to Seattle to visit the rest of his family and introduce them to Baby. Sigh again.
I realized my vacations were going to be horribly lame this year and said as much to him the other night. He surprised the shit out of me but admitting I was right (what?) and saying, “You get to pick the vacations for next year.” (WHAT?!)
And so I sit. Pondering. Where should we go? Where is a good family vacation spot for a little girl who will be 1.5 to 2 years old? Is Disney World too hard on them at that age? Is it too hard on me at my age? Aren’t cruises good for toddlers? But am I going to be puking everywhere? Are we going to sink? Get taken over by pirates? Have to pee overboard when we get stuck in the ocean somewhere? What about Europe? Should we go back? Oh, I loved Europe. I’m destined to live in Scotland one day. It’s my spiritual home. But again, does a 2-year-old lend herself to traveling abroad easily? Does that whole “you don’t pay for a seat if they sit on your lap” thing apply to a 13 hour flight? How bad would my legs hurt after that? Will she get stolen and sold into sex-trafficking? Will I have to go all “Taken” on someone’s ass? Cause this crazy bitch will.