Each time I was on pregnancy bed rest (yes, three times total) I dreamed of an adult weekend away. Visions of poolside-US Weekly-reading days would cloud views of my swollen ankles, my gigantic pregnant belly. In the past seven years, I’ve pretty much been pregnant, nursing, or on fertility drugs. Maybe i’m being a bit dramatic, but I’ve either been holding a diaper or a tiny hand (or both). I wouldn’t want my life any other way than exactly this.
This past Spring, Luke and I went away for the first time in seven years together. It was totally rad.
Since that beach-y bliss, I realized it was in 1999 that I flew to Steamboat Springs to ski with a childhood best buddy. 4,585 days or something like that. Seriously too long since a girl trip.
When a best mama friend’s husband suggested at a BBQ that she go to Vegas with mama pals to wean her toddler and we all very much liked the sound of that well…then I woke up on the morning of our anniversary and well…
Sometimes the best Anniversary gift is a plane ticket out of state.
Up until this month, I would have told you I hate to fly.
Maybe it’s because a childhood pal was a flight attendant killed on September 11.
Maybe it’s because I fly by myself with the three girls all the way to Florida each year and flying without Luke freaks me out. Flying with two small girls with another on my lap for eight hours freaks me out.
Luckily, my talented friend and musician is also a pilot.
Instead of an hour and a half ferry ride and an hour car ride to the airport, we got to fly twenty minutes to the airport to rendezvous with another awesome mama pal and another plane to Vegas.
Slow tide, slight sun made for smooth skies.
To be honest, I was about to have a panic attack. I was a complete wreck. Pretty sure I turned white. My pilot pal (who I had told two weeks prior that I’d never get into a small plane again) was nervous for me and had me fly shotgun.
If the view hadn’t have been so totally incredible, I would have had to stick to my original plan which was to freak out the whole flight.
Our tiny town and marina is seen below on the far left, Lopez Island in the middle, and (I think) Cypress Island on the right.
I kept my mind busy on the flight writing two tiny poems inside my head and taking pictures with my big camera and tiny iPhone camera. Yup. It was a busy twenty minutes. Love my pals in the plane who said kind, safe words. Love my pilot pal who spoke safe and familiar, flew kind and fun.
I’m pretty sure the pilot of the next plane said what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas before he talked about the fastened seatbelt sign.
I can tell you this
::going away with three awesome mama pals (while spending each awesome day for the last six and a half years as a stay at home mama to three girls) is incredible
::a suite that overlooks a casino built to look like an egyptian pyramid is just.so.perfectly.vegas
::vegas is a constant concert-in-stereo with speakers everywhere and it made me think i was starring in my own documentary with a killer (sometimes impeccably cheesy) soundtrack
::if i drink only water and espresso and eat only sushi when it’s 106 degrees outside and it’s 58 degrees in every chilly air conditioned building i will get heat exhaustion – but it’s nothing a live taping of a reality tv show and some wonderful mama pals with gatorade and room service can’t fix
::having only reapply sunscreen every half hour and absolutely nothing else on my to-do list for 48 hours is rad
::spending an hour and a half getting ready to go out dancing at 9:00 pm is not only a blast from college’s past but a welcomed evening-filled-with-giggles rarity
::tanning and reading trashy magazines (ok, I did cheat and read Atlantic’s Fiction Issue for a bit) in the desert is really hard work with having to walk three feet to the pool to cool off every fifteen minutes
:::vegas with a breeze in the summer is exactly like a hairdryer
::$3.00 is enough gambling funds, especially when my pal won $2.00 on the one-armed-bandit and we even got to see the vegas 7 7 7 lucky strike.
::if i wasn’t wearing such a tiny dress, if i’d of had only one tiny pocket or if i had liked the way my phone felt inside my vintage cowgirl boot, then i could have taken this picture,
because i watched it happen in the pose and the flashy clicks that even might have been my elbow in the far right of the picture
::i’m totally in awe of how all the released pictures leave out how it was a mob of hundreds of people, cell phones in the air amid a dozen video cameras, sound guys and light operators
::i’m amazed at how much of a fish bowl they were in, seemingly oblivious all the while pretending
::i used every skill i’d learned at all the huge concerts i’d ever been to and had to elbow and squeeze my way to the front row to get us to the front row of kim kardashian’s bride-to-be bash
::just to think i had a bet with myself that the only hollywood star i’d spot would be gary busey
::all that squeezing to the front row talent came first from new kids on the block, then the bangles then poison then phish but mostly to the grateful dead in my teen years (yup, eclectic musical background)
::sharing the dance floor with reality tv stars was hilariously so far from my everyday reality it was just awesome and i’m still laughing about it all
::since we didn’t look like midlife crisis train wrecks, security guards were really nice to us at clubs, and we got around long lines, cover charges and into totally secret vegas passageways with secret elevators and secret hallways that led out to vibrant commercial kitchens all because we were sober, polite and classy
::if i dance in a hot club in the middle of the desert for hours on end in high heels i might get huge blisters and have to walk around vegas barefoot (ewwwwww) and walk into a pyramid (totally an everyday occurrence)
::my favorite part of the whole weekend was when we chilled on suite beds in the early evening hours, listened to music, tried each other’s clothes on and giggled and it felt oh, so much like we were in high school
::my favorite part of the weekend was eating meals on my own schedule, not someone else’s nap time or bed time timeframe
::ok, my other favorite part of the weekend was when all three girls gave me the best hug ever at home’s doorway. it was so wonderful to be appreciatively missed, to hear the words MAMA! from my special three again just made me feel so, so happy to be home and into the arms of my totally awesome husband (who remains totally unimpressed with the reality tv stars i saw, but is interested in how i took a picture of the welterweight boxing champion in a parking garage…)
::vegas made me love our tiny northwest island even more
There it is, my Vegas trip without spilling too many tiny details.
What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas.
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