This past weekend, the kids and I packed our bags and headed to St. Petersburg for a family wedding. The kids were thrilled to get to miss a few days of school, and I was looking forward to a few days without so much running around. I was a little scattered in the days before we left, trying to wrap things up with work and get things ready. I would be fine throwing everything into laundry baskets to make packing quick and efficient. Since we were headed to a very nice, posh hotel, I decided against it. I can only imagine the horror on my daughters’ faces as the bellhop unloaded laundry baskets from the car. I decided maybe it was time to give the kids a little more responsibility and let them each pack their own bags.
I tend to group my children in pairs. They share rooms and do chores as a pair, and at times it seems like they always get in trouble together. There are the “older” girls, the boys, and the “little” girls. The day before we left, I made each pair a precise list of what to pack. Not quite ready to relinquish my role as “Queen of Packing”, I decided to take a quick peek into the suitcases before we left. It took only a second before I found myself thinking maybe my directions weren’t quite specific enough. Next time I am going to write it this way:
Dear Children,
Please pack clothes that match and items that you didn’t find in the dirty clothes hamper. I need each girl to pack a nice dress. This means that each of you needs a dress. I do not want to hear you say to me, “No worries, we will take turns wearing the dress!! We are going to a formal wedding, which means if you pack one dress to share, then one of you is going naked.
I finally got everyone packed and the bags loaded. I will never understand how a four-hour trip can take ten hours. When you have children, you might as well add one hour to the car ride per child. I don’t use a GPS because the last thing I want is one more person ordering me around. After this trip, I am seriously rethinking that.
The kids were really excited about the hotel we were going to be staying at. Thanks to the internet, they got to see pictures of the beautiful hotel, the huge pool, and other amenities. Thanks to the internet, they also found out that it has a history of being haunted. All the ghost sightings and strange things have happened on the fifth floor, room 521 to be exact. To say they were freaking out would be an understatement. I made a deal with them. If they promised not to tell their younger siblings about the ghost stories, I would promise in return that we would not stay on the fifth floor. I mean, really, what are the odds we would end up on the fifth floor? As luck would have it, not only did we get on the fifth floor, but we got room 519. One room away from the haunted room. I started laughing as the hotel clerk told me this news. The older ones immediately start freaking out and saying they are going to sleep in the car if we stay on the ghost floor, and the little ones start crying, asking me if there are really ghosts. Am I on Candid Camera?? A promise is a promise, so I had us moved to the 3rd floor.
We spent a wonderful day relaxing by the pool, and I loved every minute watching the kids swim and play with their cousins. I hate being cold, so I am not a huge fan of getting into the pool, so I just sat and watched. The sun was setting, and it was just about time to go inside and get ready for the rehearsal dinner. Suddenly, eleven kids start screaming and swimming towards me, saying Finn is stuck. I was a little confused. I could see Finn in the water with his head out of it. He had a panicked look on his face and was screaming “I’m stuck”.
My mind races at the thought of a story I saw on 20/20 about a child getting stuck in the pool drain. I throw my phone down and jump into the freezing water fully clothed, ready to fight the drain for my son. I swim at a speed that would put Michael Phelps to shame to get to my baby. That is when I realized that the water is 3 feet deep. Finn is four feet tall. Really? Did anyone think to tell him to put his feet down and touch the ground? With mascara running down my face, I ask him why he said he was stuck when he could have touched the ground. He tells me he doesn’t like how the concrete in the pool feels on his feet, so he doesn’t want to touch it. You have to love these mommy moments.
The wedding was beautiful, and I am happy to say that everyone had something to wear. At the reception, I finally took a minute to look at my children and breathe. The kids were out on the dance floor having a blast. I joined them on the dance floor and took my seven-year-old into my arms. Her little face lit up, and she was beaming as we spun around. As I danced with my children, there was nothing on their faces but pure joy. That was when it clicked. I have been so caught up in the day-to-day activities and stress of life that I have forgotten to stop and dance with my children. We arrived home with lots of happy memories. I confess that not all the suitcases have been unpacked. There is still a ton of laundry that needs to be done. But each night in the kitchen, we have turned the music on, and I have been dancing with my children.
