We actually took a kid-free trip.  It has literally been 5 years since we have been on vacation alone – just us, not kids, no parents, no friends.  When you are from a family of 7, vacations tend to involve at least one member of the family, in my case, preferably all of them.  I love my family.

That meant no double stroller that causes you to break out into a sweat trying to get through security.  No more bribing your kids with anything under the god damn sun that will keep them quiet as you cruise through the air in 35,000 feet.  “You want to eat an entire tube of Pringles?  You want to color on your legs with pink and red markers? You must have your own can of Coke from the flight attendant, NO PROBLEM.”  Just please, please, please do not torture these sweet people who have saved money to go on a nice trip and here we are….the Vogelbrechts, making their flight one straight from hell.  We don’t mess around.  You can see us coming from a mile away, wait I mean hear us from a mile away.  I don’t know what it is about kids but when you get them higher than 30,000 feet all hell breaks loose.  It is like they know you are trapped and willing to throw every rule out of the window for cooperation.  Airplanes are not the place to prove a point or let the kids throw a tantrum or kick the seat of the person in front of you or try and stand on your tray table or have diarreah.  They just aren’t.

I am a pro when it comes to international travel – ALONE… with 3 kids… as I have done it twice in the past year.  It is not for the faint of heart.  The funny thing is that I actually made a friend out of my last trip.  I found the nicest human being in the world who herself was a mother but on her way back from a girl’s trip.  She saw me dealing with customs, with screaming half naked kids and the desperation that was setting in faster than it needed to be.  I had one poor child who was in a Benadryl haze and peed down to her socks. Poor Miss Eden had to wear her little 8 month old brother’s onesie unsnapped and a diaper (she has been potty trained for over a year).  They were all cruising around O’Hare customs like a bat out of hell.  The kind sweet woman came up with the sweetest smile and said, “let me help.”  She did.  She stayed with me until the very end even though she was dying to get back and see her own children.  She got it.  It’s what mother’s who get it will do.  I remembered her name and pertinent details and  found her.  I sent her a Christmas Card of our happy loving family which was the exact opposite of what she saw.  I made sure she knew what she meant to me.  She was my life saver that day.  I think about her more than she will ever know.  She made a huge difference.  Thank you Miss Natalie.

My prior trip with all 3 alone was so bad I was convinced that I was moving to Atlanta.  The flight was so terrible in every way.  I am talking 3 screaming kids whose ears are popping, diarreah on handrests….just imagine the worst and multiply it by 38.  I was in tears.  We all were in tears.  The flight attendants were so nice to me because I was trying so hard that I was literally a sweaty mess of tears, Desitin and shattered dreams.  I apologized more on that 2 hour flight than I have in years but nobody cared.  There were a few kind moms who did feel my pain and the sweet attendant who made me repeat to her, “I am a good mom”.

Needless to say when the flight landed they let me get off first with my 3 pals….and people started clapping as I left.  Not as a sign of support like – “Hey you did it!  It was more….get the F off this plane with your terrible kids.”  We landed in Atlanta and I called my mom and I told her to get me change of address labels because I was literally never getting on another flight again.  I cried so hard. Harder than I have in a long time.  I felt defeated, that I had let my kids down and vice versa but I was so disappointed with some of those people on that plane.  They didn’t get it.  No one wanted my kids to stop crying more than me.  The guys next to me actually had the balls to tell me between sobs that he did not have kids for this exact reason.  It. Was. Awful.

I had 3 kids to transport back to Chicago and that was not happening so my only option was to move to Atlanta.  My husband would come visit.  Maybe.  I sort of like peaches and rap music so I could make it work.  There was no way I could do it again.  Seriously.  Just thinking back to that day gives me hives.  I obviously got talked off the ledge, swallowed my pride and hopped a plane back to Chicago.  I decided that since the “Real Housewives of Atlanta” were not looking to cast new members, it was best we hit the road.  I am also scared of Nene Leakes.

So this time it was just us – just me and my main squeeze.  We had craptastic weather unfortunately but we still managed to make the best of New Orleans.  On Saturday we slept in – until NOON.  I repeat, noon.  Can you imagine?  I didn’t have to cut up anybody’s food and I went for 2 days without getting poop under my fingernails.  I even got to use the bathroom alone and no one fought over who was going to flush my pee.  That may have been my favorite part.  Don’t get me wrong, I missed my pals with every ounce of my being but the break was much deserved and needed.  It was the first time we have been on vacation alone since we had kids.  And the best part – it was free.  I won the trip (airfare and hotel) last year at Chicago’s Blues fest.  As my dad says, nothing tastes better than free.  I love free shit and what is better than a free vacation?  My poor dad filled out 743 entries at the Southwest airlines booth and I filled out exactly one and it was only because the guy at the booth made me.  I was on my sixth trip up to the booth grabbing the free bags of peanuts and blow up airplanes when he insisted I at least fill one out.  Fine, I will do it – just let me grab another dozen free bags of peanuts.  For the record, I don’t even like peanuts but they were free.  I had to.

My amazing parents watched my pals….they went to the zoo, the park, Taco Bell, China Star – all our regular stomping grounds.  They read books and gave baths and snuggled and took walks and put up with my annoying phone calls checking in on everyone.  They are the best- with 7 kids and 17 grandkids, they are seasoned professionals.

So, when I go on vacation with my pals and every day for the matter, I snap about 783 photos.  This time, on this trip, I took 7. 7.  Arno and I really just are not as cute as my pals.  Here they are in random order.

I am not sure which is my favorite.  The selfie where I am trying to see how my outfit REALLY looks or the picture of my fancy new Teva’s.  (Did you know they still made Teva’s?  And green nail polish….and notice the j-toe?)  Wait, no I take it back.  My favorite is the one where Arno looks thrilled to be out with me.  He looks like he might actually cry.  Poor guy.  I am kind of a pain in the ass.

All in all it was a success and we will do it again – in 5 years or better yet, anytime we can get someone to watch my pals.  Who’s up for it?  I promise they don’t bite.  Well, two of them don’t.