Well, the honeymoon is over

This morning - I couldn’t be bothered to put on makeup.  I could barely be bothered to get out of bed and get dressed and head toward the return to real life.  I was vehemently fighting letting go of vacation mode. 

People keep telling me how brown I am, which is funny.  I tanned constantly in my early 20’s - before I moved to Texas.  So, I know how prone I am to turning brown pretty quickly when exposed to UV rays. 

I had a cancer scare when I was 25 and realized I’m not immortal and completely stopped doing the tanning bed thing.  I’m pale, pale, pale all of the time.  I use my kids’ SPF 50 when we go to the pool or the lake or whatever.  It is a topic of conversation frequently, actually.  It is all my Texas friends know.

And although I sunblocked like no one’s business in Florida, the Florida sun burned me to a scary shade of red anyway.  That is now turning brown, and it is blowing minds apparently.

So, the trip…

We were eager to start our honeymoon and so left on Sunday with plans to stay the night in New Orleans because neither of us had ever really been there.

We arrived in New Orleans around 8:30 p.m. and Siri took us to an area of the French Quarter where men were wearing thongs and suspenders on the street (I later found out it was apparently Pride week) and the streets were super narrow, and I was worried I was going to run a light or run over a drunken partier.  Finally, I pulled into a gas station and made Jimmy drive.  He wound around and around and around and finally we made our way to Harrah’s where we paid $20 to reserve a parking space for 3 hours.

Maybe it’s just me, but casinos are depressing places. 

We switched from driving to walking in circles once we got inside, and after about 30 minutes found a Fudruckers and had our first honeymoon meal at a dirty table surrounded by casino sights and sounds.  We were done with New Orleans.

Jimmy volunteered to drive and told me to take a nap.  When I woke up, he was pulling into the parking lot of a cheap motel.  We agreed to pay the $60 for a room in order to keep from sleeping in the car.

The room was, um, interesting?  The smoke detector was wearing a paper towel necktie.  We refused to sleep under the covers or use the shower.  Jimmy bought me bottled water the next morning to brush my teeth after using the sink water to brush his own and not wanting to subject me to it.  I told him “we totally have cooties now” as we made our way out the door in the morning.  He gave himself a cootie shot and declared us safe to continue on to Destin.

We arrived a few hours before we were supposed to check in.  So, we made a trip to stock up on essentials (like chips and booze) and then perused the Wharf and landed at a bar called Rum Runners.  We consumed sandwiches, the absolute best French fries, beers, and shots, and then finally made our way to our room. 

It was beautiful.  The first thing I did was shower off the cooties.  Then (as I remember it) there was more drinking, ziplining, another trip to the bar, a trip to the pool, and falling asleep.

The next day we spent a good chunk of time booking a deep sea fishing trip and trying to figure out the tram system that would take us to the beach.  We boarded the tram for the beach late in the day and had a good time after we arrived.  Jimmy wanted to sit at the beach bar and have a drink (despite the 400 pounds of beer in our cooler) because he’d never had the pleasure of sitting at a beach bar before.  The bartender was incredibly sweet, and I got to try a beer that Jimmy has been telling me about from his days living in PA.  We avoided sunburns that day.  We ate dinner at Bubba Gump Shrimp that evening and met a couple of pretty cool locals who worked there.  We got back to the room, and Jimmy asked if I’d like to go walking around.  That translated to going back to Rum Runners and dancing while a guy covered fun songs the crowd requested.  Drinks were had…

Wednesday, after missing our deep sea fishing boat by 10 minutes, I declared a day of rest.  I refused to drink and drove us to the beach where we got heinously sunburned.  We ate dinner at The Crab Trap (omg, the best crab dip!!!) and then I made us go back to the room and stay in for the evening and watch Forrest Gump.  Our server the night before had quizzed us on the movie and made us nostalgic, and so we watched it, and it was still such an incredible movie.  It was different watching it as a mother than it was the first time I watched it as a teenager. 

The next day, I woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed.  The plan was another day at the beach and then an evening of partying like 21 year olds.  I was still abstaining from alcohol to prepare my liver for our planned shindig and therefore drove us to the beach.  We had made a trip into town to procure a skim board and a wake board and SPF 4 million.  We rented beach chairs and umbrellas to hide from the sun as much as possible.

We spent quite a bit of time wakeboarding.  Then Jimmy decided it was time to break out the skim board.  He did it a few times.  I tried and fell on my face.  In order to teach me how to do it, he came over and tried to do a run in slow motion…and that is when he broke two toes.  He hobbled to his chair, tried to stand again to walk to the snack stand for ice, and fell back down and turned an eerie shade of white.  Having dealt with exactly what he was enduring when I broke my ankle and when I was in labor, I knew his blood pressure was low.  I called my mom and asked her for advice on what to do.  She gave me advice, and we got Jimmy blood pressure back up.  Jimmy asked me to talk to strangers and ask them for favors, and I sucked it up and did it since he was clearly hurting and I felt it my wifely duty to take care of him.

I managed to get ice, get him a ride to the boardwalk from a lifeguard, and get help from someone getting all of our crap back to the boardwalk.  From there, I said something like, “I love you, but I have to get all of this stuff to the car, so park it here, and I’ll be back.”

He doesn’t listen, so just as I got the 376 pound cooler into the car, he came hobbling up.  I was sunburned, exhausted, worried, and my mind was going 100 miles an hour trying to figure out the next step.  So, I was babbling away when I threw it in reverse and just hit the gas.  I came to an abrupt stop thanks to the bumper of the F150 behind us.

That is when I lost my cool and my poor, injured husband had to talk me off the ledge so that I could track down a pen, leave a note, and get back to taking care of him.

We got him doctored up, and he insisted on returning to the beach.  We did, and we enjoyed ourselves until our chair/umbrella rental expired.

We returned to the room where he took a nap while I embarked on the journey that is getting ready to “go out.”  There are flat irons involved in this, y’all.

He managed to get his boots on, and we walked/hobbled across the property to have dinner at Acme Oyster House.  The server was so great!  She talked me into trying oysters for the first time.  She recommended chargrilled…and I am now recommending chargrilled oysters to you.  YUM!

We explored the rest of the Wharf but ultimately wound up back at….you guessed it…Rum Runners.  This time there was a dueling piano show.  Jimmy paid them $17 in the school fight song contest and asked them to rep the Hogs.  I was the only person in the bar who knew the fight song outside of the pianists.  Don’t worry, Arkansas peeps, I did us proud.  I sang loud and called the hogs!  Unfortunately, they wound up crowning Ole’ Miss the school with the most spirit.  There were more of them, and they had fatter wallets.  (What I’m saying was the contest was RIGGED).

That is one of the most fun evenings I have had in years.  We laughed and sang and danced.  Jimmy had decided early in the evening he was going to tell people he got bit by a shark when they asked why he was limping.  We got a couple of people convinced, and when he got up to dance with me at the end of the evening, one of the women pulled me to the side and said, “Should ‘shark bite’ be dancing?!”  I thought to myself, no, shark bite should probably not be dancing.  He should probably be at home in bed.

Ah, but shark bite was in the spirit of things and imbibing too many cocktails…as 21 year olds do.  Soon, it was time to amble back to the room.  Except shark bite was sleepy and kept trying to pass out in the flower beds, and on the concrete, and on benches.  

Ok now I have to defend my actions here: I tried three separate times to drag, plead, coerce, threaten, bribe him to go upstairs.  Each time I’d get him a few yards closer, and each time he’d go all dead weight and fall out in some random place.

So, I finally gave up and left him on the concrete and went to the room and went to sleep. (I know that is not a new wifey thing to do, but ohmygosh dead weight drunk people are just unreasonable and impossible to carry).

At some point I woke up in the middle of the night, and he was there, so I didn’t have to wrestle with the guilt of leaving him and go search him out again.  Whew!

The next morning I learned that after he had finally made it into the hotel and onto our floor and to the door, he had forgotten the code to our room and so lay in the floor for an hour lightly knocking trying to get me to get up and let him in….I never heard him, but he eventually figured out the code.

Friday was our last full day.  We went and bought our own umbrella and headed once more to the beach.  We played in the water, and I could barely stop thinking about how ready I was to see my kids.  I was homesick basically from the start, and as much fun as we had, I just wanted to see the smiling faces of my littles.

We tried to take up the pictures on our waterproof digital camera and soak in all of the beach we could since we knew it would be the last time we’d see it for at least a year.

That evening we went back to Acme Oyster House and then returned to the room to veg out in our jammies and watch Netflix.  That’s when I got him hooked on Orange is the New Black. (YAY!)

The drive home on Saturday was never ending.  We rolled into our driveway around 9:30 p.m.  When we walked into the house, there was immediate evidence that my mom had gone out of her way to make our welcome home special.  She had created a “Wedding wall” on our blank wall in the living room.  She had cleaned and finished our laundry and bought us new bedding and bathed our dogs.  She took care of all those little odds and ends we hadn’t ever made it to like hanging valances and such.  I cried at how kind and thoughtful she was to not only watch our daughter and our dogs but also spend her time making life nicer for us in our home.  My stepdad fixed our fence and a broken doorknob and I imagine helped with all manner of other projects she had taken on.  We are so lucky to have my mom and stepdad. 

Sunday, we jumped out of bed and got showers.  We ran and picked up Vivian who looked so much older and so much bigger.  She accompanied us to the store for game day fixins, and then we headed to pick up Gavin.  Silas had already declared he was watching football with his dad and would not be coming home.  He did waiver for a while when he actually saw me, and he required multiple rounds of hugs and kisses before I was allowed to leave.  He showed me in his own independent/daddy’s boy way that he really missed me.  It made me happy to know that he still needs my hugs and kisses.

The game was terrible, but we enjoyed our Sunday anyway.  We spent every minute we could with the kids.  After they were in bed, we cooked together and sat on the back porch - which is so ridiculously “us” that it was the perfect way to end our honeymoon.

It was all so imperfectly perfect, and I will cherish the memories always!

Now it’s time to go back to being old and boring…and we will….gladly!