Dancing Queen Leaving Las Vegas

Vacations are always looked forward to.  And when you're a mom, well, vacations without the kids are dreamed of, longed for, and relished.  Waiting at the airport--sitting, with absolutely nothing to do--is a luxury.  Room service--someone else preparing your food and bringing it to you--is decadence.  And sleeping--without stealthy ninjas slipping into your room in the middle of the night and staring at you until you startle awake--until you want to get up--without someone saying, "Get up, Mama, get up!"--is the ultimate vacation. 

But Sunday morning, just two days into our vacation, I woke up with an aching emptiness that went deep into my core.  To say I missed my babies is an understatement.  I longed for them, to hear their laughter, to smell their distinct smells, to see each unique set of eyes and freckles.  I wanted them to physically tug on my hand as they were emotionally tugging on my heart.

It was the day of the big event, the ACMs, and I was incapacitated.  Instead of sitting out by the pool, relaxing before the ultimate primp session, I was lying in bed sobbing. 

I flipped through pictures on my phone, trying to console myself. 

But their smiling faces only made me feel that much further away from them.

Ron tried to console me by saying it was only 48 more hours before I'd see them again, but that seemed an interminable amount of time. The only thing I could do was to get up and busy myself with something, to keep the sadness at bay. I did what was natural to me:  I straightened up the room.  

While tidying the desk, I came across a letter Trey had slipped into our luggage before we left:

Surprisingly, it made me feel better.  

So I started getting dressed.  

There's just something about a warm shower; it's so therapeutic in many ways, and in this case it seemed to wash away another tinge of the sadness.  Before I knew it, I was ready to put on my dress.  

My mind slipped back to a couple of days before leaving for Vegas, when I had tried on the dress with all its accessories one last time before packing it all up.  James David and Jacob had burst through the bathroom doors (as they are so apt to do) while I was twirling around getting a 360 degree view.  They stopped abruptly and both breathed, "wow, look at Mama!"  Jacob said, "Mama a princess!"  James David concurred, "she a princess...with dancing shoes!"

My eyes brimmed with tears as I thought about that moment...but my heart warmed too.  My boys thought I was a princess.  And so I was a princess--and I did dance--that night.

I'm back home now, and I'm far from that princess in dancing shoes.  I'm surrounded by dirty laundry, toys and clutter, and mounds of papers to grade, and my comfy pants, t-shirt, and flip-flops are far from the glitz and glamor I left just two short weeks ago.  I'm back to solving disputes over toys, wiping noses and rears, and waking up at ungodly hours to fulfill large demands from tiny people.  And my blogs will revert to the ho-hum everyday themes of potty-training, crock-pot freezer meals, and what to do with your children over the summer.  

But that's okay.  I had a blast being a Dancing Queen in Las Vegas.  But I'm much happier being Princess Mommy to my little princes at home.