Cancelled

Alternate titles that I considered for this post:

• The trip that never was
• Staycation
• Ghosting 
• Travel travesty
• First-world tragedy
• Foiled!

As fun as it is to dream up silly descriptive titles, our week really can be summed up in one simple, painfully direct word: CANCELLED. For the past three years, Jeff and I have gone on what we lovingly dubbed our "yearly date trip" every February. Travel is cheap in February and President's Day weekend gives Jeff an extra day off work. Plus February is the anniversary of our first-ever date. February is our blissful date-escape month! Enter: real life.

Spending a month in France back to back with coaching a rigorous two-and-a-half month long cross country season left us feeling completely exhausted when it was time to plan our February date trip. We waited, and waited, and waited, hoping for energy to reappear. Finally right after cross country season ended, we started thinking outside the box. Maybe this February we wouldn't do an overseas trip. Maybe we could still have fun in the sun by staying in our very own Pacific Time Zone! Then Jeff's brother Sam reminded us that he has lived in San Diego for ten years and we have never visited him there. The puzzle snapped together. I began my flight-scouring. I immediately discovered cheap $200 tickets from Pasco to San Diego. It seemed meant to be. We secured Jeff's parents for childcare in our absence. Then we booked the flight and texted Sam the good news. A few weeks later, we booked an Airbnb (since staying in Sam's bachelor apartment with his roommate didn't scream romantic date).

Around Christmas, Jeff and I had recovered somewhat from the intense previous months. We started semi-guiltily wishing we had had the strength and foresight to plan a more... exotic trip. After so many overseas travels, staying domestic just felt kind of flat to our wanderlust sensibilities. The USA is an awesome place, but for our Date Trip, we love going abroad. How could we have crumbled under fatigue so easily? But the trip was booked and San Diego really is a nifty city with a brother in it, so we held steady. We read our Top Ten San Diego guidebook and started getting excited about beaches and snorkeling and trails and a massive ex-aircraft carrier that is too big to fit through the Panama Canal. Most of all, we were both excited for a change of pace, away from normal life, alone TOGETHER. 

Fast forward to T-minus two days, aka Friday February 7th (Rose's birthday). Jeff learned that his parents were horrifically ill and could barely talk, let alone watch our energetic children for a week. We sat on the edge of our bed and looked at each other. This was it: one of those inescapable real-life responsibility moments of choice. We considered our options. Maybe we could fly my sister Mel in last minute (the next day) and she could watch the kids. That would require investing another $600 in this trip--not in budget. Maybe we could call in a thousand favors with all of our kind local friends and still have our date-trip? That prospect was so overwhelming and stressful that I immediately vetoed it. While I don't doubt the good hearts of our kind local friends, I did not feel right about cashing in emergency help for a non-emergency. I knew I wouldn't enjoy our trip at all if I was constantly wondering about who was supposed to take the kids when and where. I don't do last minute planning well, and this was down to the wire. At this point we were less than 48 hours from departure! After a surprisingly short conversation, Jeff and I looked at each other and gave it up.

We gave up the trip. Since we bought super saver plane tickets, there was no hope of recouping any of that $400, but we were able to get half of our Airbnb fee refunded. We had no other payments or reservations made, so it was quite straightforward to cancel our trip. It was moderately torturous to read the Airbnb cancellation policy and realize that if we had cancelled a mere three days earlier, we could have been refunded in full, minus a slim service fee. Oh well. We paid for the trip months ago, so it didn't feel like such a sudden a direct loss. We just didn't get the enjoyment from that up-front investment. When we called Sam and told him the bad news, he laughed sheepishly and said he had actually forgotten that we were coming, although he was sad we couldn't make it. 

Strange as it sounds, Jeff and I both felt oddly relieved when we decided to cancel our San Diego trip. Nothing had really come together like it normally does when we plan our trips. We hadn't even decided if we were going to rent a car, leaving the decision vaguely to later, "if we feel like we need it while we're there." Maybe there were unknown good reasons that we ended up staying home. Maybe not. We may never know! The fact remains that we didn't go. There was a silver lining: Jeff could not undo/give back the personal days that he was using for our trip, so he would be able to stay home with me (and Amber) all week.  Staycation! 

It didn't take me long to start feeling bitter about the idea of a "staycation." One of the absolute best, most rejuvenating parts about travel for me is the CHANGE of pace. I don't like changes in my day-to-day life, but I do thrive on a few controlled jolts of change each year, in the form of interesting invigorating travel. As a stay at home mother, housekeeper extraordinaire, family fairy, domestic diva, a "staycation" held zero interest or perks for me. At all. My work is all at home. It is inescapable ever-present, and never-ending, not to mention invisible to my whole family. Where was my vacation going to squeeze in? 

The kids still had to get up before 7am and get ready for school. Amber still was Amber to her fullest Amby-potential. We still needed food. There were still piano lessons, taekwondo, and church activities. And I still had to live in our house, so I couldn't completely let the messes go because that would drive me crazy. So this was basically the most NON vacation-y "vacation" ever of all time. Jeff was home hanging out. I was working. It was LAME. That's how I felt on Sunday (Feb 9th, the day we were supposed to leave). Then I realized that I was basically drinking poison and waiting for the rat to die, so I needed to figure out how to make my week feel more special, different, and vacation-y. Nobody else was going to do it for me. Arg, why can't someone just come in and read my mind and know exactly what I want and need and then do it for me? Oh yeah, I'm an adult now. That's why. 

Even amidst my angst, it didn't take me long to find an answer: BOOKS. Armchair travel to the rescue! Dear reliable beloved escapes that they are, books rescued me last week. I read ten books in seven days. It was glorious. I went to so many delightful places from the comfort of my recliner. Normally I save reading until I have accomplished everything on my list for the day. But during our staycation I did not even MAKE a daily to-do list. I got up, shuffled the kids through the morning routine, went on a run, showered, and then READ for the rest of the day, more or less. 

What about Jeff and the whole spending-time-together aspect of our date week? I should add a few details. We did spend time together. But I was in the throes of a brutally moody menstrual cycle. Emphasis on the moody! I didn't feel like doing much at all, and I was annoyed about feeling that way, haha. We had one outing planned: a temple trip. Jeff's sister Steph kindly volunteered to watch Amber while we went to the temple on Wednesday. But on Wednesday morning, we both felt so tired that even driving the 45 minutes to the temple felt HARD. And right at 10am when we would have been sitting in the temple wearing all white, my period started. So it was a good decision to stay home on Wednesday. Then Jeff came down with some sort of mild but exhausting sickness for three days, so we stayed home, holed up, and did the bare minimum all week long. Amber hogged what little attention Jeff had to give. I hogged down book after fluffy book. 

This week was simply not meant to be very vacation-y. I have worked through most of the sense of injustice and indignation at the series of impossibilities distributed across our fabled vacation week.

On Sunday morning (Feb 16th) both Rose and Amber woke up with low fevers. I stayed home from church with them. It was the last straw in my week of barricades, cancellations, and obstacles. I finally saw the humor and accept that I was staying home indefinitely.

Moral of the week: you win some, you lose some. You plan some, you cancel some.

Another silver lining of the week was the stellar weather: sunny and clear every day with warm happy sunshine. Highs were in the mid 50s all week! We hardly ever see Mount Adams on the horizon at this time of year, but there he was, snow-coated and looming.

Valentine torture time. Valen-torture! School was cancelled for winter storms the week of Valentine's Day last year, so I got out the boxes of cards that we didn't use last year and the kids prepped them for their classmates. Rose blazed through writing names on her 35 cards in no time, and Jay delayed prepping his 35 cards until the last minute. 

 Amber was determined to write all 17 of her preschool classmates' names, although she doesn't understand about writing letters in order (and she only knows how to write about 10-15 letters). I think I could write quite a witty parent's lament over compulsory school valentine exchanges, but I don't have the wit to spare at the moment so I'll leave it here.

Amb is getting better at writing her name! I am so uninterested in pushing preschool aged kids to learn writing and counting and all of that. What's the rush? But Amber was determined so I sat by her and showed her how to form different letters until I thought I was going to implode. Then I had Jeff take over.  On the days of their respective class parties, Jay, Rose, and Amber came home with bags full of Valentines and sugar. I hate mass candy handouts like Valentine's Day! That night I found Amber hiding in her room eating Nerds, which she had dumped into a sock for what? Safe keeping? Secrecy? I am so glad that sock didn't get tossed in the wash! I am very near to trashing all of the candy.

 Jay's taekwondo place finally got a sign! It looks less sketchy now, haha.

Amber took full advantage of having both parents home with her. Chutes and Ladders is way more bearable now that I have declared we only go UP--whether it's a chute or a ladder, you go UP when you hit it. Way better. 

Another peaceful sunny orchard/vineyard run. Grass is getting GREEN in this warmth. 

 On Tuesday, Jeff made the pot roast of his dreams for dinner. Everyone gushed over it (and it was good), but I must admit to feeling a tad betrayed about it all. (I didn't get over my angst this week all at once--it kept flaring up, haha). Nobody seems to care that much when make ALL of the other meals, minus some eggs or crepes from Jeff here and there. My family, Jeff included especially rarely remembers to say thank you for the dinner. When I was growing up saying thanks to the cook was LAW! During Jeff's pot roast dinner, I made sure to thank him for making the dinner, which caused the kids all to immediately say thank you too, whereupon I gave Jeff a pointed look and informed him "look how the kids followed my good example when I thanked you for making us dinner!" Cue sheepish husband. For some reason I couldn't leave it at that. As the kids continued gushing over the delights of the dinner, I grumbled "I guess I know how to get people to say thank you for the dinner: double my food budget." because Jeff doesn't consider things like grocery budgets when he shops for food. I was feeling snarky and grumpy and unappreciated, and my husband made dinner! I was clearly hormonal and moody. Glad that passed eventually. But really, a little thanks goes a long way, especially with the everyday things!

 It's been so warm that our daffodils are starting to grow! Spring in February.

 One night we had Popeye's chicken sandwiches for dinner--the only time we "ate out" all week, although we brought it home to eat, haha.

 Rose begged me to do a heart-themed hairstyle for Valentine's Day, but I was so out of my league. Last time I did a fancy heart hairdo was when Rose was in kindergarten and her hair was twice as long as it is now. Motherhood: crushing my daughter's illusions of my perfection one bad hairdo at a time.

 Another day, another lovely orchard run with Mt. Adams on the horizon. I found a previously unexplored nearby access road to peaceful orchards this month and they have become my dog-free haven. Although I do still have to risk running past a few dog-zones to get there, at least those dog zones have fences. Not that I trust fences. I just am used to these particular dogs' habits and I feel relatively able to predict their movements.

 More Valentine candy. GAG. I only let the kids have one piece of candy after lunch and one after dinner, but the straight sugar still stresses me out! I need to loosen up. Or maybe stop projecting my own sensitive digestion onto my kids, haha.

 Yet another SUN-RUN! Apple trees to my right, grapevines to my left.

 Jeff and I attempted taking a Valentine anniversary picture, but Amber got in between us, as usual.

So I gave Amber my phone and had her take the picture. It was our golden Valentine's Day: 14 years ago on Feb 14th, we went on our very first date. 

 We snuck in exactly one Amber-free selfie. Story of the week.

 Our Valentine's evening was not exactly romantic: Jeff took Jay to taekwondo while I stayed home with the girls. While the boys were out at taekwondo, I thought we'd have a girls game night. We played a game of Slamwich (aka slap jack with sandwich-shaped cards). Amber ran out of cards early and cried until I let her "join my team." A while later I won, and then out of nowhere both girls were fighting and sobbing angry tears over losing. I think I grew a few more white hairs for my efforts at mother daughter bonding time.

 Picture of my white hair, streaking back from my temple. Not too shabby for a 33 year old!

 Jeff took Jay to Popeye's after his taekwondo test. Jeff was not sad about having that chicken sandwich twice in a week.

Friendship gets us through unromantic weeks of cancellations, along with joking, laughing, and dancing in tight circles around our tiny kitchen.