This is vacation week for me and the Little One. By vacation, I mean a week in the frozen expanse of Northwestern Ohio at my mother's house. Ice underfoot, steel grey skies overhead and relatives for days.
No fruity drinks with little umbrellas in them. No coconut-scented suntan lotion to be rubbed onto my back. No deep tissue massages. No surf sounds to soothe me to sleep under the Caribbean sun.
On the upside, I haven't had to empty the dishwasher yet this week.
As I sit here, still in my pajamas (I'm on vacation!), tapping away on my laptop, my kiddo is watching her 37th "Andy Pandy" of the morning. (She's on vacation!) I felt guilty for about a minute. Then I remembered the warm, white sand I don't have between my toes.
I know I just told you that I don't make resolutions. And I don't. But this year, I'm flying in the face of this self-imposed restriction. This year, I resolve that next year I will take a warm, kidless, relation-free, totally indulgent vacation. A vacation involving lots of sand, sleep and sarongs. And sleep.
I'm so excited about this decision, I'm going to start researching destinations right away. After all, next year is almost here. And anyway, I have a little time to spare this morning; another episode of "Andy Pandy" just started.