Mom Notes: Baby-less in the Bahamas
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Given my complete lack expertise in the world of parenting, and the fact that, until I became a mom, I despised it when anyone talked about being a mom, I have stayed away from talking about my experiences with Alexa on the blog. But the other day I stumbled across these amazing posts on Ramshackle Glam, and had a change of heart. Reading someone else's inner monologue about the transition from a carefree couple to a, gulp, parent (!) is now infinitely interesting to me- so hopefully it will be to you guys as well. And if it isn't, not to worry- we will be returning often to our regularly scheduled fashion and beauty programming.
For months, I have been dreaming about a vacation. Somewhere warm, sunny and, to be perfectly honest, baby-free. Yes, I love Alexa very much and watching her do new things every day is incredible and adorable. But sometimes, a girl needs to hop on a flight without 10 bags of gear, to go out for the afternoon sans a bag full of Similac and puffs, to enjoy dinner without dreading even the tiniest hangover every time she takes a sip of wine, and, most of all, to sleep past 7am. So for our anniversary, Brian surprised me with a trip to The Cove in Nassau, and his dad came up from Houston to hang with Lady Lex.
I was all excited- packing amazing outfits, making dinner reservations at the best spots every night (Nobu, Mesa Grill and Dune, in case you are planning a trip there anytime soon), getting a spray tan- you know the drill. Saturday arrived, and we were off. Freedom! Sleep! Cocktails!
But here is the thing- from the second we got on the plane, all I wanted to do was look at pictures of Alexa. And for the next 72 hours, the majority of our conversations revolved around what we thought Alexa was doing, what she would think of the giant fish tanks, how she would clap if she was sitting at the Blackjack table with us when we won a hand, which slot machine she would think had the best lights, how she would look in a baby bikini....I could go on. But it just gets more ridiculous from there, so I guess some musings are better kept within the family :)
When we would pass a family pushing a stroller, I was that weird woman I used to be creeped out by who would crane her neck to peek inside. Yep. I was. Gross, right?
We called home more than we care to confess- not because we were worried about Alexa, but because we were curious to hear all about her activities. Apparently she had her first bite of a cinnamon sugar crepe, learned to say "bye bye" and wave at the same time, and even climbed up next to my father-in-law while he was working and said "hi".
Sleeping in was pretty great. But coming home to that little face was even better.
Who woulda thunk it?
Note: For anyone thinking of going to The Cove- a short list of pros and cons:
Pros: Easy, direct flight. Lots of activities to do if you feel like it steps away at Atlantis (casino, restaurants, this rapids water ride that you can cruise through in an inner tube), but if you never want to leave the confines of The Cove, you can pretend they don't even exist. Great pool at The Cove (especially if you like cheesy Top 40 music, which I do- no need to bring an iPod), spacious suites with gigantic bathrooms that have his and her sinks- to me, important. The Ocean View rooms d
Cons: The service is pretty bad- Brian and I joked that the second you set foot on the property, you have personally offended every single person who works there simply by being a guest. It is huge- definitely doesn't have that intimate resort feel (but again, don't think it is meant to, so can't fault them really for that). And in my opinion, the ultimate sin for any hotel- they only gave us ONE robe for 2 people. I kept asking for another one, but no such luck. It isn't really vacation until you have spent countless hours wrapped in a questionably cleaned white terry robe. Being in a robe while your significant other is fully dressed is kind of like having a conversation with someone while you are comfortably seated and they are standing up- unsettling.