Vacation & The Thing I Miss The Most

Aug 24 2011

Go, us!

Ten straight days of togetherness, and we survived it.  Six out of seven of us even enjoyed it!

I will undoubtedly get around to blogging more about our once-in-a-lifetime Disney cruise to Alaska.

The beauty.

The wonder.

The way we convinced our kids that taking pictures standing outside on a windy, freezing ship deck in the middle of glacierful Alaska is worthwhile, enjoyable,

and crazy fun.

But, for now, just a quick update to say, “We’re home!” and to tell you about the thing I miss the most.

The Disney Cruiseline Facebook page, which I OF COURSE follow (doesn’t everyone?), occasionally posts questions like: When you come home from a Disney Cruise, what do you miss the most?

Hundreds of people answer:  The food!  The kids’ clubs!  The wait staff!  Room service!

And I love all of those things.  I do, I do.  But, honestly, I also love sleeping in my own bed and getting my kids back to a routine, so I always have a difficult time answering that question.  What do I miss the most?

Well, we’ve been home for 24 hours, and I feel like I have my answer.

We arrived home last night just before 9:00pm after an 11-hour roadtrip.

(Which I realize is nothing compared to my friend Heidi’s Oregon-to-Georgia-and-back roadtrip with her kids and her silly, can-do attitude.  Or Carina’s east-coast roadtrip with her even littler kids and her equally silly, can-do attitude.  But I’m a whiner, and we were tired.  And it was 11 hours.  And we were tired.)

(Tired, I tell you.)

To be fair, we weren’t hungry.  (Good grief.  After cruising, we should never eat again.)

But we were a little bit, completely sick of each other.  Impatient.  Crabby.  Ready to be done.  He-poked-me!-But-she-hit-me-first! done.

Greg and I put the kiddos to bed, and they fell asleep in record time.

I unpacked nothing except my toothbrush and face wash.  There was no energy left for my usual luxury items like deoderant and shampoo.  I apologized to the rest of my body parts and told my teeth and face that they were going to have to carry the clean banner for everyone else.  It was a lot of pressure, but they said they’d do their best.

Unfortunately, as I squeezed my face wash into my hand, I realized that the past 10 days of cruise travel did nothing to prepare me to come back home.  No.  I’m afraid to say, in my time away, I became accustomed to the high life.

Lavishness.  Extravagance.  Opulence.

In a word…

Washcloths.

As I stood there last night staring at the glob of face wash in my palm, I realized I lost the joy of washing as I used to do, by scrubbing my hands onto my bare flesh and then splashing water about until the slippery soap disappears.  Blindly groping for a towel that I didn’t locate before soaking my eyes in runny make-up and astringent face cleaners.  Grabbing the closest piece of cloth-like material from off my dirty bathroom floor and hoping that whatever’s on it isn’t as bad as whatever’s leaching into my eyes.

I longed for a bright, white, clean, soft bit o’ cloth sitting conveniently next to my immaculate, stateroom sink.  Waiting… no, begging… me to soak it in hot water, breathe in its mild bleach-and-fabric-softener scent, and color it foundation-orange, lipstick-pink and mascara-black.

A wash cloth I could use, abuse, and then toss into the shower only to find it replaced, dry and folded, by the sink the next day.

A magical, fresh, self-replenishing washcloth.

A spotless, unsoiled, daily miracle.

One week ago, we sailed on the Disney Wonder.

And today I can tell you what I miss the most.

 

 

 

Sigh.

It was a Wonder-ful trip, indeed.

(Washcloth, if you’re reading this, call me.  XOXO.)