I bet you can tell when Saad is back (hint: some virtual space of mine gets neglected).

He came back almost three weeks ago for what was supposed to be a week’s visit, but it turned into nearly three weeks. He left yesterday morning and we’ve been chugging along business as usual since.

In unrelated news, I’ve decided to give up sugar, salt, and to an extend, caffeine. Saad has been encouraging me to do so, just for general health, for the entirety of our marriage. He doesn’t add salt to anything he eats, drinks his tea and coffee plain (this is all sorts of gross to me), considerably limits his sugar intake in general, and rarely has caffeine. For the most part, his motto is “everything in moderation,” which I believe in as well, but please don’t ever give me plain tea or coffee. In the last few years, we’ve deceased or eliminated salt/ sugar in almost everything we purchase or make, but there’s room for improvement on my part, we’ll say.

Nonetheless, he’s been a big advocate for giving up both as completely as possible and encouraging me to join him in this regard.

Well, there’s been a breakthrough; this is the conversation that occurred this past weekend.

Me: Babe! So, guess what? (I never really wait for him to answer) I read an article on how sugar becomes an addictive, silent killer and linked to [this disorder and that syndrome blah blah blah], and so I think I’m going to try giving it up.

Saad: You don’t say…

Me: While I’m at it, I read a few tweets from this doctor about blood pressure and salt intake. So I think I should give salt up too.

Saad: *nodding*

Me: Also, I don’t like the way caffeine completely annihilates my sleeping pattern. A cup of coffee or too many cups of tea keep me up and I’m a little grouchy and moody the next day (read: become medusa). I kind of feel like everyone suffers when that happens.

Saad: *nodding*

Me: So I should probably give up caffeine, or at least tone it down to decaf (which still has traces of caffeine and differs from caffeine -free) to wean myself off.

Saad: *nodding*

Me: HEY! We can do this together. Maybe you can teach me your ways Oh, Wise and Bland One. I just wish I had come to these realizations a little sooner.

Saad: *head bang to wall*

The first test was my breakfast this morning — tea and a bagel. Plain bagel and god-help-me, plain tea. I doubt I have ever had a more punishing cup of tea in my life.

So then I cheated and added honey.

But I rebounded and ignored the glorious slices of cheesecake left over from Saad’s birthday. I longingly gazed at them, maybe mouthed I Love You’s to them, but I was a big girl and said No, not this time. Instead I had fabulously thick and creamy greek yogurt with fruit.

We’ll see how long this lasts, but I figure better health is worth a shot.

And now that I’ve committed blogging sin and talked about what I ate instead of something interesting, I will conclude this post with these sugar monsters:

via lifewithcake.com

P.S. If the “old” sugar-loving me were eating these deliciously scary little critters, I’d have to eat their eye first so that my food isn’t look at me as I eat the rest of its cakey body. I’d spare it the gore and eliminate its sight first, you know? Have a little kindness in my devouring ways sort of thing.

CAN YOU HEAR ME  ME ME ME ME ME ME ME

As I clean off the cobwebs and dust all over this blog, I notice it reeks of abandonment and neglect.

But fear not, for I am here to tidy up this mess!

Where should I start? Should this be one long (long, long, long) update post in which I tell you more than you care to know? Or should I only highlight the important aspects of the last ten or so days? Should I , oxymoronically, shut-up and talk the talk already?

I’LL DO ALL THREE without knocking you over, hopefully.

The important part(s)

Since the last post:

• We are still fighting THRUSH! Oh my sweet God of mercy and sanity, WE ARE STILL FIGHTING THRUSH. We completed the entire treatment course and were good to go for about a day or two until I noticed the white spots in the back of her throat again, after which I may or may not have sat there cursing the overgrown yeast partying it up in my baby’s throat. I so want to call the cops and complain of disturbance of population control on their ass and squash their party. Just as I figured, it’s probably because of one thing that I forgot to boil or sanitize that reinfected her/us. So anyway, we’re halfway through round two of treatment for this forsaken THRUSH!
  

  Baby girl is clearly SUFFERING. Good thing I bribe her with sweet potatoes -- that she inevitably gets all over her face.

• Saad was here for two whole months and like all good things, it came to an end last Thursday. That’s also partly the reason this blog has withered away. You see, his departure date sneaks up on us –here we are just minding our own business and soaking up his presence when BAM! There’s only a week left until he goes back. We try to do all sorts of family fun stuff/ lounging around in each others’ company during that time, which also means little to no distractions, ie news reading (for him) and self-delcared important internet browsing (for me), including blogging. So essentially, YOU CAN BLAME SAAD and his cruel, cruel departure date attacking us like that.
  • It’s always the worst part of the year whenever he has to go back, but hopefully we’ll be smelling each other’s morning breath in two (if we’re lucky) to 10 week’s time. (You can thank Aiman for this morning breath reference since we’ve watched the Shrek trilogy umpteen +1 times in the last few weeks. He LOVES the movies and we are all completely Team Ogre, so morning breath is the Ogre way to express that sentiment. Just FYI, is all.)
  • It’s been hard playing catch up since he left. In the previous post I mentioned he would come home for dinner and bedtime every night, so going through the bedtime routine along for both kids literally left me out of breath the first night after he left, although it could have something to do with those demonic cookies (scroll down).
• Another excuse legitimate reason this blog was thrown to the curb is that there was a bigger bully on the block who goes by the name, Medical School Personal Statement. He was fierce and totally kicked my butt. I had him under control at first, back in November, and had him all written beaten up. Then! Then that jerk came back with a vengeance and a low blow — my pride. Yeah! He took my pride and spat on it as he said “THIS ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH” and then ran away to the desktop trash can. So I worked out (my only “workout”) and battled him in the last few days, ending this feud once and for all last night. So you see, I had to invest what little writing fighting power I have and get this little “problem” taken care of.

The Extraneous Part(s):

• We rung in the new year with a late night barbecue and our good family friend, Bukky, over. We’ve known Bukky and her family since our Sunday School years and she’s essentially my sister, Sieda’s, “Summer.” We love that girl and we love her in-law-school-brain, which came in handy because (next point):

• Someone drove into our backyard on new year’s day. Sieda, Bukky, and I were on our way to go paintballing (OMG! NEXT POINT!) with a group of girls, and right as we were leaving, we heard a crash in the backyard. My mom looked out the back door and screamed my name — a scream that still makes my blood stop and my heart pound right through my chest. That’s when I knew something serious just happened. When we got to the site, we were all like, “Well, look at that. There’s a freakin’ car in the backyard” and the driver was unnaturally calm about it. My guess is that she was exhausted from work and simply dozed off because no one ran into her and it’s unlikely to just lose control of your vehicle unless it’s possessed, but then who keeps/drives a possessed car, you know?

• Paintballing. I love it. Wait, no I LOVE IT. That’s more like it. Now, you have to understand that I take it very seriously. The group I went with were all newbies, including myself, but it was obvious none of them had ever prepared for a Zombie Apocalypse and were far too forgiving to the other team. Also, you have to respect the fact that once you’re out of ammo, you’re vulnerable, and effectively OUTof the apocalypse. Would you forgive a zombie? I DIDN’T THINK SO. STAY LOW AND RESERVE YOUR AMMO.
  • Paint ball shots hurt so much, I just can’t describe it. My sister and I were on opposite teams, so you know we had to get each other first. It was mutually a personal objective and just plain personal. Well, she got me in my right arm while someone else shot at my left. She doesn’t know it, but in the midst of fire, I played mean, but behind the barrels? After she and someone paintballed me in the arms? I nearly cried in pain, hugging myself as I waited for the adrenaline to numb the pain. Paint balls hurt so much, people. So much.
  • The next day, I was not only branded in six solid bruises, but sore beyond my mind. Because I play hardcore? Perhaps. Because it was the only thing close to a workout I had in a very long time? Perhaps-Perhaps.
  • We went to Ci-Ci’s for a quick and easy dinner afterwards and I was leaking breast milk through my shirt, visible for all the restaurant to see. Did I care? Covered in dirt, paint, and god knows what that giant smudge of green-ish brown gunk on my thigh is? NO, BECAUSE I JUST SURVIVED A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE. I sure will have an entire pizza and all of my dessert because I earned it, thankyouverymuch.

That concludes the update blabber, but wait THERE’S MORE.

More of my cynical conspiracy-theory wrapped rambling, that is. What did you expect, now?

So in an explanation worthy of another post, I’ve laid of coffee for a few weeks. I’ll go ahead and admit there are personal benefits so far, one of which is the ability to Just Say No. Like the way they teach you in school to Just Say No to drugs, only I’m not addicted, but I won’t refuse a good cup done right and fancy –perfect blend of creamer, sugar, and whipped cream with a sprinkle of cinnamon or chocolate. Who says no to that?

Luckily, only Starbucks does it as fancy as I’d like or care to do myself, so it’s been easy to refuse the “plain” variety, without any of the above.

But I cheat. I’ll drive up to Starbucks and ask for a DECAF something or another and feel so clever. I just enjoy the taste! It’s only for the taste! And maybe the placebo effect, even if I know it’s decaf.

credit via jasonlove.com

So anyway, I always have a secret fear that they forget to make it decaf and I chug back a fully-caffeinated beverage, which will make me stay up to odd hours of the night and between the kids’ sleeping patterns and my accidental caffeination, I’ll never experience sleep EVER AGAIN.

Today I got a venti iced coffee with the works –whipped cream and all that jazz — in decaf, of course. But it’s 3am and I am WIDE AWAKE (when I drafted this post, at least). Totally wired, even. I mean, I could even work out or something right now, but I’m not fooling anyone; I definitely won’t workout.

No, I’m not obsessing over the possible caffeine coursing my veins, fueling my insomnia. It wouldn’t be that venti iced coffee with the works. No. NO. The barista wouldn’t do that to me.

It could be PMS-induced insomnia, which I will gladly take because at least my PMS comes in a grande or less*.

*That’s a lie; my PMS totally comes in a trenta (Starbucks largest, ginormously gross-sized 31-oz size). That was the part you’d probably not care to know, but welcome to the risk of reading my blog.

*****

Saad has been back home for nearly two whole months, something unprecedented and unexpected in a semester, so that has been a seriously thanked for and savored treat. It’s been surprisingly impossible to coordinate our schedules mainly due to having only one car. I either have to drop him off as soon as the kids wake up and the library opens or he takes the car while we’re sleeping. There are obvious pros and cons either way, but he’s been back for dinner and to help me tuck the kids in every night and there isn’t a con that could ever out-do that.

*******

Aiman is officially in potty training mode and I’d like to point that we’re both still alive. We waited until he was officially three to actively start this certain growing pain if he didn’t train before then. He’s been aware of the concept for a long time, but had zero interest of actually using the toilet, neither were we pushing him to do so. It’s getting better and easier and hopefully we’ll have it down completely by the end of the year, otherwise known as THE NEXT THREE DAYS.

But to note, nothing will really happen if he’s not trained by then. I’ll just have to accept the potty-training-induced influx of laundry, something I might add, I was not anticipating and not thrilled about.

Wish I had some elves to help with THAT.

********

Manaal and I have been on THRUSH! treatment for about a week or so now and let me just tell you it is a pain. The suspension she’s taking smells bitter and she absolutely hates the taste, understandably. After a few doses and her negative/distressed reaction to it every single time, I called her doctor for an alternative or if I could mix it with milk or baby food and he agreed it would be a good idea. So that’s exactly what we’ve been doing and it’s been easier for her to take it.

I have to apply miconazole after every nursing and boil/sterilize anything that she might’ve put in her mouth. So far, so good. Goodness, I’m really hoping this is the last time we deal with THRUSH!

********

My mom, Saad, the kids, and I spent a quiet Christmas together. We don’t celebrate it for obvious reasons, but it would be a lie if I didn’t admit that I love this time of year. From Fall onwards is my favorite part of the year, and something about seeing the houses lit up on our street and the cheery atmosphere of The Holidays just makes it extra pleasant. My two younger sisters and my dad took a trip up to Seattle for a mini vacation/adventurous exploring and that was pretty neat for them. Hopefully we’ll have a big family trip somewhere sometime in the coming Spring or Summer.

********

MCAT studying has officially been halted until the Spring semester when there will be, hopefully, more stability in everyone’s schedule. I say “everyone” because I’m fortunate enough to have my sister adjust her work and school schedule, and then Saad to come back and finish up his semester here, and maybe even my mom-in-law if either of them can’t make it….all for me to get at least 4 straight hours to study.

That’s the plan, at least.

The only thing that’s been consistent with studying is how consistently it’s been a crapshoot. At one point I was even going to bed at 8pm, waking up at 2am and then studying until the kids got up. As you can imagine, this didn’t last long as it’s a crime against your body’s natural rhythm to wake up at that time and then force your brain to focus on equilibrium constants and nephrons, etc. rather than passing out at the table. Or it is against mine.

Personally, I’ve done some impressive eating-my-face-off in the past week or two. One example of this talent of mine is buying this case of soft chocolate chunk cookies from the grocery bakery. There were two rows of big, decadent chocolate-y cookies in each package and I thought Aiman, Saad and I would really enjoy them later that day. Well, after grocery shopping (alone with both kids) I was so freakin’ hungry and tired and thought “Gee! One of those cookies would be a great sugar/energy burst until I can get my hands on real food.”

Let’s just say that the same time the following day, there weren’t even crumbs left in the package.

At first I was simultaneously disgusted and impressed with myself, but now I’m mostly just trying to ignore the extra chine looking back at me in the mirror and denying that my belt latches into one hole over from the one it used to.

image credit: delish-blog.com

Chewy, chocolate chunk cookies are basically the devil.

• Wife: On menses (sry, tmi?). Unreasonably emotional about everything and nothing because thank you Uterus and your bleeding tendencies.
• Husband: Say the wrong thing at the wrong time because you just can’t win.

Instructions:

1. Wife, have a difficult day with the kids on the worst day of your period and compound the stress with the studying you haven’t done because your life is dependent on a silly, little test called THE -I-WILL-EFF-YOU-UP-MCAT.
2. Wife, have attacks of irrational guilt and emotional constipation misdirected at unrelated/ inanimate objects. Ex: Good God, why is it taking forever for this water to boil. *cry* obviously, everything’s just so wrong.
3. Husband, come home with wife’s favorite dessert to cheer her up.
4. Wife, take his good intension to heart as you lovingly pat the padding of fat around your belly you’re about to add to.
5. Husband, make Wife tea and set study table up for “couple study time”, which isn’t a sexual innuendo, just the unsexy-like studying we do of our books, together.
6. Wife, bring up an incident that happened earlier that day and want to talk about.
7. Husband, listen and try to alleviate Wife’s worries by making a joke of the incident.
8. Wife, genuinely laugh at joke. Tell herself she’s so lucky to have such a great husband.
9. Both, get back to studying.
10. Wife, slowly but surely become obsessed with what Husband might’ve meant by joke.
11. Wife, begin to seethe over Husband’s possible implied judgement. Totally lose focus of study material and plot attack of “Exactly what did you MEAN by your little joke, HUSBAND OF MINE.”
12. Husband, confused ask for clarification.
13. Wife, erupt in rant of unrelated things, but are related in that they’re making you lose any sense of composure and sensibility and coming out in a volcanic eruption of emotional vomit.
14. Husband, explains what he meant and references something similar you both laughed at a few days earlier.
15. Wife, have lightbulb moment and feel embarrassed. Realize she does have a great husband.
16. Wife, feel guilty and cry.
17. Husband, pat Wife’s back and ask if she’s okay.
18. Wife, say yes and get up to wash your face. Also, get your shit together.
19. Both, get back to studying and have a productive night, which again, is not an innuendo.

Until next month, Happy-Being-A-Cliche!

Sometimes, when the kids are finally sleeping and Saad and I are having dinner via Skype, I feel like I have a personal relationship with my computer. That my computer is Saad because it has his face on my screen and the closest I’ll have him near me. So I hug the computer, I hug Saad.

Sometimes, we’re on the phone for much longer than intended and our studying plans are thrown off for the night. Because so much has happened in the last 10 or more hours that he was in class or I was out with the kids and I relay story after story, thought after thought. And he patiently listens to every story, every thought.

Sometimes, he tells me a joke or riddle that cracks us up endlessly.

Sometimes, he’s exhausted from spending all day in a classroom and then in the library. Then spends the rest of the day at his study table in his quiet apartment. Very lonely.

Sometimes, it’s hard for him to see his friends with their wife and kids because he misses his own.

Sometime, it’s hard for me to see a dad with his kids at story time or the grocery store because we miss him too.

Sometimes, whenever the phone rings Aiman jumps up saying “It’s my dad! It’s my dad!”

Sometimes, it’s just gets plain hard to solo parent.

Sometimes, Saad won’t be back until the Winter Holidays and we’re all counting down until then. September, October, November, and then finally, finally, finally, December. Then we’re counting down days, which sometimes feel even longer than the months that have passed.

Sometimes, Saad will schedule a quick trip back to see us. After planning everything we’ll be freakin’ excited out of our minds for him to return earlier than expected.

Sometimes, we get beyond disappointed that our plans fall through and that he won’t be able to make it. That the quick trip back will be far more destructive for our overall schedule and semesters if he returns. It would be easier (in every sense other than emotional), especially financially, for him to return on his scheduled date. So we get bummed about it and I’m relieved I didn’t tell Aiman about Saad coming home early. Explaining he couldn’t would’ve been hard.

Sometimes, after I put the kids down on Friday night, I get a call from Saad’s local number. Huh?

Sometimes, I answer it and he replies “Hey babe” as usual.

Sometimes, I’m confused and excited to hear his voice coming from his Houston-area number.

Sometimes, he tells me he’ll be home from the airport in an hour and will see me soon.

Sometimes, I laugh uncontrollably because he totally pranked me by setting up his “I won’t be able to make it this weekend after all” etc. and while he was telling me how depressed he felt about not making it, he was actually packing to leave for the airport.

Sometimes, I get intense butterflies knowing that he’s coming home right now.

Sometimes, when he gets home I don’t ever want to let him go.

Sometimes, it feels like he never left because having him back feels stable and peaceful and natural.

Sometimes, we’ll have a whirlwind weekend and we wake up on Monday morning, look over at each other and the kids, and realize that yes, whew, this past weekend wasn’t a dream and that he’s still here. We’re all here.

All of the time, I love him that man (sometimes, too much).

Someone’s earning himself some serious, serious brownie points. This is what happens when you train them well, ladies (JK x’s a million). Here’s Saad being himself and surprising the heck out of me yet again this past weekend and doing it very well as evidence by my blubbering “Uh…who? what? What’s happening?”  to the delivery man.

 (Thank you babe <3)

As vague as that might sound, you do not understand what a milestone it is for him to a) even mention he’s coming earlier and b) to give me an estimated time in the month.

This requires an explanation. Which I’m going to give you.

Saad, you see, likes to surprise you so much that you’re a gasp away from a heart attack. One time I was five months pregnant with Aiman and home alone, making lasagna in the kitchen. I didn’t really hear the door open, but I had this strange feeling someone was either coming in or already in the house.

Again, I’m pregnant and alone, and yet I strolled into the living room all I-have-an-uncomfortable-feeling-about-something-happening-but-I’m-going-to-check-it-out-anyway! To my utter shock and flabbergasted confusion, there was my husband, who I wasn’t expecting for another month or so, walking up to me for a hug.

I was brain-numb and very emotionally volatile in all the right and pregnant ways.

He later told me that if things had gone exactly the way he had planned it, he was just going to go wait for me in our room until I got up there. And you know, catch me as I faint in sheer fright and shock.

So the man likes doing this sort of stuff, and I honestly love it, yet for him to tell me, but not really tell me in advance is pretty special. After living in what you might call a state of hyper-sensitive premonition-ing by stopping what I was doing to look up and say/think “He’s going to walk in right….right….RIGHT NOW!” and he not walk in at all, I made him tell me which weekend he was coming. Because you know what? It is too energy zapping to premonition like that all weekend, not to mention it totally shatters your confidence in seeing seeing/feeling the future.

So by last Wednesday night I knew he’d be home that Friday evening.

And then Friday came and all was divine.

We had dinner at his favorite diner and checked into our hotel for the weekend. Although we were still in the same city, it was neat to have the space and time to ourselves (for those of you who don’t know, I/we live with my family while he’s away).

Saturday, we went to Moody Gardens for the new exhibits and then had dinner on the beach, after which Saad and Aiman run along the shore while I nursed Manaal in the soft sand.

Sunday, after breakfast we spent some time with Saad’s family, who either of us hadn’t seen in a while. Later that day my sister, who has this fancy camera I don’t even know the name of other than it being a Canon, took some fun, impromptu family pictures for us.

If Aiman and Manaal look tired it’s because they were. Manaal woke up from an unfinished nap and it was Aiman’s dinner time, but they were good sports about the nonsense we put them through for these pictures. 

That same night my sister babysat for us after we put the kids down to bed, and Saad and I went out for dinner and hung out in our car. I swear we’re not peculiar people, but our car is pretty much our treehouse. We’ve had our best conversations, ideas, plans, moments, etc., in that little ol’ Corolla. It’s become our escape.

Monday was supposed to be his last day with us, but a hiccup at the airport meant his flight would be delayed until noon the next day and really, we were not complaining. No siree bob. We thoroughly absorbed the extra hours we got with him.

And then Tuesday came along and it was time for him catch his flight. It was hard, as usual, but it’s part of the deal. But you know what? That weekend was such a boost in spirits for all of us. Before he told me he was coming back, I was slowly sinking in my troubles, but having had the time we had together, IT FEELS DAMN GOOD AGAIN.

So other than the weekend Manaal was born, last weekend was the best ever this year.

It gets to me every.single.time.

It needs to be blown up, framed, and hung up on my wall somewhere.

Isn’t it just gut-wrentchingly beautiful?

What’s their story? Is one sick?

How many years have they been together?

Or where they reunited after a life time separated/having been with the wrong person/ lost?

Their life, their history, their love, their sorrows?…SO MANY QUESTIONS.

I want to talk to them.

I bet their fragile limbs and bodies hold each other with the same strength and fragility as the love their heart bears for the other.

Every wrinkle and white hair, the mark of a memory or story shared.

It speaks volumes to me and albeit being a little sorrowful, this is where I want Saad and I to be a lifetime from now.

(GAH. WHAT A GORGEOUS PHOTO.)

(I have to stop looking at it now. I feel the stink in my nose and waterworks coming on.)

I woke up congested with a scratchy throat and a small headache, but called and left Saad a Happy Anniversary, I Love you So Much  etc. message, trying to beat him to it, but it was unfair as I knew he was in class since about 7:30 that morning and probably went to bed just a few hours earlier.

The day continued as usual –chaos, keeping the kids alive sort of thing. My plan was to doll up for our nightly video chat; shower and do something fancy with my hair instead of letting my curls take over my head like usual, and wear some make-up–make it special for the occasion. We usually have dinner and talk about our day via video after I put the kids down and he’s back from school and studying, sometime around 9 or 10. And then? Like the nerds we are, we study together. Or try too.

Maybe this is lame because I don’t hear of anyone sending these anymore, but I was going to send him an ecard, and ultimately wait to properly celebrate our anniversary really, REALLY late when he gets back in December.

So an ecard and some makeup during usual dinner via computer screen was going to be it for this year.

Sometime around early evening my sister, who had been out all day running errands, came home while I was wrestling Aiman with the laundry. I peered around the door to see who came in and to my surprise, there’s my sister holding a gorgeous bouqeut and a box of chocolates from my favorite chocolate shop.

“HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!!”

Apparently my husband and sister have been planning and plotting behind my back. Those two. Oh, those two. Since he couldn’t physically deliver them, he asked my sister to for him.

It put some much needed sunshine in my day. You don’t need to celebrate it in a big way to mean it from your heart.

In six years, we’ve both graduated from undergrad and he started grad school (and I start sometime in the next two years), getting closer to our career goals, while someone upstairs trusted us to have not one, but two kids along the way. It’s not always easy, hell it hardly ever is, and as cheesy as I feel saying this, it can’t be any more true: I can not express how incredibly lucky and thankful I am to be with Saad. Marrying him is the biggest, best decision I’ve ever made. Just ever, ever, ever.

Now that’ve we’ve made it past the five year hump, we’re pretty much guaranteed to be together forever and more, right? I’d really like those odds.

Here’s to 60 (and forever) more.

—————–

Saad was taken aback by the number of people in the house and how just plain sad the atmosphere was. Aiman on the other hand absolutely erupted in surprise and excitement at the sight of his dad. It was hard not to smile at the burst of bubbling energy and giddy laughter that took over him.

Since I hadn’t had contact with Saad in about three straight days, I couldn’t tell him about what was going on and he’s not much of an email person (I know!), but I emailed him incase he did check it. Which he didn’t, as usual. He met me in the kitchen and I brought him up to date, all the while Aiman wiggling up and down “Daaaady! DAD! Mama! It’s DADDY!!” in Saad’s arms.

Kiddo was so.thrilled.

Around 11 that night, when the house was quiet, we all sat at the kitchen table talking. If you recall, this was going to be the weekend that Saad and I were going to get away for some rest and relaxation. We planned and looked forward to it for months, but you know, not mentioning it too much lest we be struck with cruel, cruel bad luck and plans go to utter shit. Everything looked perfect from the outside; it was the only weekend in which both my mom and Sieda (my sister) would be off from work. Mom was going to have him all of Saturday and Sieda, all of Sunday. We’d spend the night at this hotel/spa/resort sort of place that overlooks the beach. We were really, really looking forward to it.

Well, obviously we were too excited and talked about it one too many times because our plans did go to shit. People were going to keep coming throughout the weekend and because it was the weekend, they’d bring their families, so it was going to be more hectic than the previous three days.

My mom simply wasn’t going to be able to keep him and the guests and the house, plus somehow get the time she needs at some point. Besides, I didn’t expect her to and told her not to give it a second thought. Since we wouldn’t have babysitting on Saturday, I was hoping Plan B would work out, where we’d have all of Sunday and part of Monday and be back before my mom goes to work on Monday. That wasn’t going to work out either, so it was just Sunday we were looking at. And since we weren’t spending the night anywhere, there was no need for that rewarding hotel/spa place. So we settled with having all of Sunday out and away doing whatever at the last minute.

Which isn’t bad, you know. Certainly better than nothing. But I’m going to go ahead and admit that I was bummed and furious like a kid who didn’t get her way. Damn the way things never go according to plan, damn it! I was so irked not at anyone or for what happened, of course.

But shiiiiiiiiiiiit!

Anyway we planned on leaving around Sunday morning, but didn’t actually get into the car until 2 because surprise(!!) more people and ones I didn’t even know this time. So half the day was gone by that point.

After considering a million and one places, we decided on something nearby, yet a little far away enough to feel like we left the city. Hold your horses, we went to -get this- the Kemah boardwalk. Since I hadn’t eaten or munched on something for almost two consecutive hours, I was in grouchy starvation mode, so we had lunch at some fancy mexican joint (which I could really go for right now) as soon as we got there.

The boardwalk was nice–it helped that the weather was gorgeous for once. The place felt like a never-ending party on the waterfront with roller coasters and attractions. It was a generally great family-friendly place, albeit being much less romantic and calm that I had envisioned for our trip.

There was this one attraction Saad and I were particularly eager to go on. It was called the Boardwalk Beast, which sounds like some sort of roller coaster but is this giant boat that carries a bunch of people across a strip of the gulf. That’s a really lame explanation, but I honestly can’t do better than that. For those of you familiar with the San Antonio river boat ride with it’s scenery and calm touristy nature, think of that only on a bigger boat riding through the gulf. Well, we waited in the monstrous line and just as we were close enough to the ticket gate, I noticed the “Information” bulletin that explains what to expect. Things were stated in exclamation points and testimonials were plastered against snapshots of people totally dying of fun while on this little ol’ boat ride. After reading that entire thing, I was more excited to experience this so-called beast. Then at the very bottom, under the “Caution” section, I read that people under 42 inches should not ride, which hey, I pass, so no worries. And after that? Expectant mothers “should definitely NOT” ride the beast.  Stated just like that: “Should” “Definitely” and “NOT” caps in all.

I didn’t know how to break to Saad because although he pretended not to care, the guy was completely looking forward to this moment. In fact, while eating lunch, we had a beautiful view of the boardwalk and water, with the boats sailing by. Every now and then the beast would sail by and Saad made it a point for me to know that “Look! There it is!!,” but you know, in a non-chalant I’m-pretending-not-to-be-as-exited-as-I-REALLY,REALLY-am kind of way. At first I said that I changed my mind and would rather sit it out, but that he should and better get on that boat ride.

He didn’t buy it and eventually noticed the warning too, so we got out of line and rode what I call the kiddy train; the little train that kids drag their parents on and it circles through the entire area. At first I felt a little silly when Saad and I were the only ones without a kid on board, but hey! Our kid’s in my belly and she wants to ride too. So it counted.

Anyway not to kill you with the detailed play-by-play I’ll sum it up with: we eventually drove all the way back to town for this one chocolate bar (creatively titled The Chocolate Bar) for their ice cream and then strolled through the duck ponds and park for the rest of the evening before heading home.

So we certainly didn’t have the whole weekend away, but hell I’m pretty thankful about that Sunday away. For not ever having any real vacations, I think it’s a step in the right direction and again, it sure beats nothing at all.

But next time? Next time we won’t mention anything about a planned trip or ever get excited about it because bad luck will find us and strike us down. So I’m going to go reverse psychology on it’s ass and be completely depressed about our next getaway. We will have a real vacation one of these days, damn it!