I've been up to use the bathroom every few hours and the last time I got up, I was unable to fall back asleep.
I figured I'd blog.
Tomorrow, Mr. Yoy and I leave for our vacation - five days in LA. It is almost hard for me to articulate how excited I am. But I haven't allowed myself to really visualize my trip until now.
If I still had an office job, I'd be doing some extra internet surfing and cutting out earlier and earlier as my mind shifted from work to play mode. I'd be doodling during meetings and taking long lunches.
Unfortunately, as a SAHM, there is no vacation mode.
HEY BIG E, WHY DON'T YOU FIX DINNER FOR YOU AND YOUR BROTHER TONIGHT?
ALSO, DRAW YOUR OWN BATH AND TUCK YOURSELF IN. THANKS!
Sure, like that would happen.
And while I normally hate flying, the idea of sitting on a cross country flight and just vegging out for many hours sounds intoxicating.
I'd like to take this time to point out the difference between flying with the Yoys and not.
1) I pit out my shirt before we even taxi away from the gate. I am on EDGE.
2) I assess my plane neighbors. Do they look mean? Short-tempered? Like they may be down for a Barbara Walters-type interview courtesy of Big E? I attempt to make eye contact and silently plead with them to have mercy on my soul.
3) I spend the entire flight anticipating what my kids will want/need next. I'm like Mary Poppins, but without the stellar singing voice. I'm pulling crazy sh*t out of my bag to keep the Yoys quiet. People stare at me in disbelief.
HOW DID SHE FIT AN ENTIRE TRAIN SET IN HER PURSE? AND ALSO AN UMBRELLA?
4) I repeat my go to phrase every 3-5 seconds.
SHHH! SHHH! SHHH!
5) I repeat my other go to phrase every 3-5 seconds.
THE PILOT IS GOING TO COME BACK HERE AND KICK US OFF! WE ARE LITERALLY GOING TO HAVE TO PARACHUTE OUT OF THIS BABY!
6) I nervously check and recheck my watch and calculate how many more minutes of this terrorist-level torture I have to endure.
7) I remind the Yoys that this is a non-pooping flight. Don't do it. Even in your diaper. Just don't.
NON YOY FLIGHT
1) Hello iPod. Hello book. Hello plastic cup of cheap wine.
2) Smile empathetically at all the parents traveling with their kids. I know the pain they are enduring.
This song may be thirty years old, but really, the Go-Gos were so wise:
VACATION, ALL I EVER WANTED.
VACATION, HAD TO GET AWAY.
VACATION, MEANT TO BE SPENT ALONE. (I'm pretty sure they were referring to my kids)
This will be our home for five days. It is still up in the air as to whether we return to the ATL. Ever.