For some reason before going away on vacation, I always bombard myself with an unreasonable amount of things to do. For the past week I have run around like a crazy woman gathering, shopping, cleaning, putting up window screens, setting up the new pool, organzing, unpacking, schlepping kids around, and oh yes, working almost twice my normal hours at the Birthplace.
I love my job but I won't be sorry for the week away. It has been downright crazy for the past couple of weeks at work (Hurricaine Irene anyone?) and now the labor and delivery nurses are paying the price. The beauty of my job is that I work with one of the most outstanding teams around, so a busy time usually just means more solidarity to get through it. The only downside is that it's summer, and most of us want to be by the pool with a margarita and not in our scrubs.
So I am finishing up another long night shift here and heading out to Pennsylvania today after a couple of hours of sleep. Francisco is staying home to hold down the fort, as we learned a long time ago that we really do like to vacation separately most of the time. Or rather, I like to go places and he likes to stay home. So I will load up the kids for the six hour drive to our glorious rental house on a lake, and join my aunts, grandparents, and cousins for some old school reunioning. I feel like I have run a marathon to get here. I'm pretty sure I do this to myself so that once I am sitting on the porch with a cocktail and my feet up, I will really appreciate it.