Sueno

I attended a bridal shower this week. This is a rare event in mommy-land. There are lots of baby showers, but the bridal showers—the lingerie bridal showers—are as rare as a mommy actually wearing said lingerie.

We enjoyed champagne drinks, blueberry French toast, fresh strawberries, and chocolates, while relaxing, baby-free. The bride happily answered questions regarding the courtship and wedding: what she first thought of her fiancé when she met him just eleven months ago (I’ll withhold those details); how that opinion rapidly changed; what her dress was like; etc. Yummy stories to accompany yummy food. She also talked about booking the honeymoon: Cuba . . . nice beach . . . staying in an upgraded casa suite.

Of all the things to be envious of that day, this was the thing that made me wish to trade places the most. I wanted to be planning a honeymoon. I wanted to pack my sandals, sunblock, underwater camera, trashy (but not too trashy) beach novel; fly to Cuba with just my husband; spend a whole week admiring my coral pink pedicured toes, while relaxing on the beach sipping mojitos, or something sin hielo (without ice) so as to be careful not to contract hepatitis.

My husband and I have traveled kid-less since becoming parents, and it was fantastic and romantic and wonderful. But I missed Geister every day we were separated from him (Boo was not yet on the scene). I called to check on him every other day. Everything we saw I wondered how he would like it. I noticed every playground, every child’s attraction. I noticed every stroller and all the other parents travelling with their children. I noticed how child-friendly even the museums were, how there was so much for Geister to enjoy.

But a honeymoon is the ideal vacation for many reasons not the least of which is because it generally occurs before kids. If I were to trade places, the longing I would feel for Geister and Boo would be instead for the children we would have some day, and it would be lovelier and sweeter and easier than the harsh reality of actually missing them, and wondering how they would feel, gritty and grimy from the mixture of sand and sunblock on their skin, as I scooped them in my arms after a long day in the sun and took them in to the casa to get changed for supper.