According to Tash
Flying Cockroaches and Pink Flamingos

Flying Cockroaches and Pink Flamingos

October 12, 2016 1 Comments

My husband and I just recently returned from a ten-day stay in the Caribbean; the island of Grenada, to be exact.

That’s right, friends. Ten whole days of 100 degree weather, adult beverages, and second degree sunburns.

I am happy to report that I did not suffer from one single mosquito bite, and can probably go ahead and declare that I am Zika free (I would like to take this moment to give my profound and most heartfelt thanks to the men and women of Deet for helping me prepare for this journey to the equator).

Traveling for me always goes hand in hand with my close friends guilt and anxiety. I want to go somewhere, I deserve to go somewhere, but then the “bad mom” squad starts attacking my character; making me doubt my motives and my decisions. This gets even more difficult when the CDC labels your destination as a Zika Level Two Enhanced Precautions territory.

So, on a regular basis, traveling with me is never an easy task. Throw in any extras and I’m a mess. Typically, I have about eight stages of traveling that I frequently revisit during the course of any given trip:

Stage One:

Initial excitement. The trip has been booked and it seems like an eternity before the time will actually get here. Can’t we just go there now?!

Stage Two:

Pending dread. The trip is only a few days away. Why on earth did we think this was a good idea? We are parents, for crying out loud. We should be at home with our child, not off gallivanting around the world. Oh crap. Does this mean I have a bad feeling about this trip? Is this a bad sign? Is God trying to tell me we should stay home? Maybe we won’t go. Maybe we’ll lose a passport or something and have to stay home. That for sure would be a sign.

Stage Three:

Well. We’re on the plane so I guess this is happening.

Stage Four:

This was a great idea! Why didn’t we do this sooner? The weather is amazing, the beach is gorgeous. I’ve already had four drinks and it’s not even 11:00 am! Maybe we can stay here a few extra days. No one will even miss us. I hope this week drags on!

Stage Five:

I miss my son. Is it time to go home yet? I really miss my son. I can’t wait to see him. I wish we were going home tomorrow. I think I’ve gained about seven pounds already. I’m so sick of daiquiris. I feel like crap. Maybe I’m dehydrated? I seriously don’t think I can eat another piece of pizza..

Stage Six:

(Eating pizza and sipping on frozen drinks). This is Heaven.

Stage Seven:

Welcome back home! Our house is a mess, I don’t remember leaving it this way. Everything has been moved. My shows aren’t on the DVR. Where is last week’s episode of the Real Housewives?! Where did these new toys come from? But oh. My baby. He smells so good. I’ve missed his little baby smell (he’s five). I’ve missed his hugs. His sense of humor. His little voice.

Stage Eight:

Why doesn’t he ever stop talking?! Ten days were NOT long enough! If I have to repeat myself about picking up toys one more time I might seriously lose it. When is our next vacation?

Anyway. Maybe that’s just me.

So. Grenada was good. I got to eat pizza poolside while sipping on pina coladas (anyone know how to make the little tilde thing?) with some great friends. I learned what a flying cockroach the size of my hand looks like up close and personal. Twice. (Trust me. You develop a new sense of the world once you’ve watched a giant cockroach crawl out of your shoe). (And yes. I realize the technical term is palmetto. Tomato, tomahto. Back off. This is my story).

I went jungle river tubing and didn’t drown or get attacked by wildlife, despite getting stuck in a mosquito nest where I was sure would be the spot where it would all go down.

I learned what it means to be ghosted by someone. Not sure what that means? Here, I’ll show you.

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See what I did there?

I ate cake as often as I wanted. I lived in a swimsuit every day (in hindsight this might not have been the best idea given all the cake consumption) and play dress up every night. I read, I danced, I drank sangria. (The correct sequence of events is actually sangria and then dancing).

I met a wonderful couple from Italy, a wonderful couple from Ohio, and a man who declared he was “never staying at a Sandals again!” before storming off toward the pub. (I wondered for days if he, too, found a giant cockroach in his shoe).

I spent time with amazing people. My husband and I reconnected with great friends we met on our wedding day, and now love them even more. I was able to spend time with my best friend of 27 years and share another part of the world with her. And last but not least, I was able to have real, honest to goodness alone time with my husband. I had forgotten what it was like to hang out with him for an extended period of time just the two of us. I’m happy to report, he’s still mostly fun.

To say I’m excited to do it again it putting it mildly.

**Side note: I was Googling stuff on Zika just now and back in July of this year the first potentially Zika-related death occurred in Grenada. Had I known this then, I would not have gotten on that airplane. Chad, I’m looking at you.

tubing-group

Our group, post tubing experience!

Tubing

I was so happy to have made it out alive. Let me tell you, friends. That water was NOT only three feet deep the entire way through. We hit some pretty treacherous areas. Seriously.

chad

My husband. He’s pretty cute.

Pink Flamingos

Our pool drink holders for the week.

friends

Swingers.

Natasha

1 Comment

  1. Reply

    Tamara hook

    October 11, 2016

    Bahahaha….I didn’t move anything from where you had it before!

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