BB turned three-years-old last weekend and the entire family went to Disney World. Who do I consider the entire family? Mom, dad, Big Bear, Little Bear, Grandma, Grandpa and… the nanny?
This is the second family vacation that I have taken with the Bears. The first was last March to a trip to the Bahamas. Although I did have my own suite at Atlantis, packing and traveling internationally with a two-year-old had its challenges. I’d like to thank the room service wine for keeping me sane.
The second family trip would end up being three days of utter exhaustion, sunburns, and tantrums. But throughout all of the chaos, there were hugs and high fives to favorite Disney characters and late-night snuggles. Although I was on my feet for three days with barely any sleep, the justification for the long days and nights and the eating bad came down to what BB said on the way home to Miami: “I had so much fun!”
You know what? I really did too. Walking around the Magic Kingdom watching all of the Disney dancers, the safari at the Animal Kingdom where a baby giraffe was less than six feet from our car.
The only cause for complaint? No days off. I worked an entire work week (10 hour days) then spent the weekend in Disney. We didn’t arrive back to Miami until Sunday around dinner time and Monday morning I was back at my 10 hour days. Monday surprisingly wasn’t too bad, but this Tuesday morning, I am struggling. I keep telling myself that after I write the next great American novel, travel the world and eventually want to settle down and have kids that I will have no days off and that my days of sleeping for nine hours then taking power naps in the afternoon will be gone. I try and tell myself it’ll be worth it… But 26-year-old Rachel isn’t buying it. I’d like to think that this is proof that I am not yet ready to be an adult. I’m okay with that. For now, I’ll keep partying with Mickey and Minnie and singing and dancing to Mary Poppins.