Alright. The first step is admitting you have a problem. I, ReAnna Day, am a procrastinator. Maybe I should say, I, ReAnna Day, am a perfectionist. This is what happens…I have a “to do” list. If I do something that’s not on the list, I add it to the list so that I can quickly cross it out because the feeling is oh-so-wonderful (yes, I’m letting the freak flag really fly this evening, folks). As a task slips further and further down the list, it becomes more and more insurmountable. It’s sort of like our storage closet. I’m not about to tackle cleaning it unless I have the time and energy to do it perfectly. I’ve developed a “if you can’t do it all, don’t do any” sort of mentality. So instead, every time I need something out of it, I cringe and straddle lamps, gingerly step on baby shoes, and scale plastic storage containers overflowing with Christmas decorations to find my prize. That, my friends, is what happened to blogging in the last month. I kept adding to the list of things I wanted to blog about. I watched the list grow longer and longer and realized I couldn’t give up a single damn thing on the list. I let more simple tasks slide in ahead of blogging (I also had a birthday, some good books, a lot of THIS, and some other drama to keep me entertained). But anyway, I decided something the other night…I miss blogging. And in the middle of the night, when you need to go downstairs to the refrigerator in the dark, you really only need to feel around for the first step, the rest just happen naturally. So here’s my toe, inching over the first step. I’m starting at the end of the list, even though this blog should have been posted a stinking month and a half ago.
On January 28th, Jason turned big 3-0. Since he was adamant that he didn’t want a party of any kind, I started planning a surprise getaway back in November. My coworkers were taking bets on whether or not I could keep it a secret. I bit my tongue as Jason made comments like, “We need a vacation.” I set it up to have our mamas take turns with the kiddos. I even called ahead to his boss to ensure he could get the time off. I ended up having to tell him the night before (which actually worked out better so he could help with the packing and because Addy was super excited to help give him his birthday present). So we spent 4 nights in…
We collected shells, coral, and sand dollars for Addy (which are currently stowed safely in her butterfly purse). We ate, drank, and soaked up the sun. Here it is, in photos...
Why is it so much easier to let go, chill out, and live in the moment when you’re footsteps from a beach? And while I loved every minute of it, I missed my babies like crazy. Somehow “letting go” and thinking about them all of the time really can coexist. I swear they can. I think part of being a mother means that no matter how much fun you’re having, your subconscious is still with them. You check your phone obsessively waiting for a picture message with one (or better, both!) of their sweet faces. You hear the squeals they would make at the sight of the ocean. It’s burned in to your psyche in the most amazing way possible.
Anyway, the point is…I really missed this.