When I explain to you why I am carting around a VooDoo doll in my husband’s image, I know you will understand.
Last year, at this time, he was at the St. Regis in Aspen. Sure, it was a ‘work trip’. Sure, they had meetings. They also had fancy meals, money falling from the ceiling to the tune of ‘show me the money’, and snow mobiling excursions.
Me? I was here in St. Louis with the small people. Alone. On my birthday. (Are you crying for me yet? No? Well, you will.)
This year, he is here. On my 2nd favorite island in the world. And I am here. In St. Louis with the small people. Alone. On my birthday.
Nevermind that this is his mom’s work reward trip – or that she took me two years ago – or that it really is his turn to go. I would prefer to sulk about it. And it would be nice if you felt sorry for me too. Just a little.
Because he has sunshine, 85 degrees, perfect azure water and parasailing.
And I have crazy small people who argue….with me and each other. All.The.Time. And rain. And a high of 42.
Rude.
Sigh.
Itishisturn. (voodoo arm twist) It.is.his.turn. (voodoo knuckle to his back) IT.IS.HIS.TURN. (voodoo sunburn)
Clearly I’m envious. And by envious, I mean my blue eyes have turned green. And I’m wearing green all week in protest.
And the crazy small people keep saying, “I miss my daaaaaddddyyyy!” every time I reprimand them. Which makes me want to ship them to Siberia.
But only if they stop and pick up their daaaaaadddddyyyyy on the way.
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