Surviving Our Dream Vacation

began as most do—a lot of yelling and threats of divorce.

Well, divorce was never really on the table—and the very beginning was actually somewhat peaceful. I’m usually running around making sure the kids have their Nintendo DS’s, everything is shut off, and we have all of the suitcases by the door. But this time things were strangely relaxed and everyone was happy. I should have known it was the calm before the storm.

We received a phone call from our airline as we were walking out the door notifying us that our flight to Dallas was canceled. But we had been booked on another one to Chicago that would get us to our final destination: Hawaii.

This was the BIG vacation. All of the business travel MJ had done over the past year was about to pay off. We had diligently socked away those airline miles and hotel points until we could book our trip for four to Oahu, Hawaii.

For free.

The only thing we would have to pay for would be our food and activities.

If we could get there.

At the airport ticket counter, we were told the plane was full and they had no seats for us. We would have to wait until the plane had been boarded, then, if there were available seats, we would be boarded too. If we didn’t make this flight, we could (maybe) go standby for a later flight, one that was four hours away. I did not want to entertain two kids at the airport for four hours, nor did we want to leave and come back. We had to park, take a shuttle, check in, and go through security—a process that requires more precision with two small children than disarming a nuclear bomb. We did not want to repeat it.

Anyone that’s flown standby knows that it’s probable for one person to make it onto a plane, but the odds of 4 seats being available on a flight to one of the biggest hubs in the nation? Not good. Even if we got seats on the next flight, we would miss the last flight they had to Hawaii, and we would not be able to leave until the following day—if we could get seats then. The prospect of doing this all over again made me want to cry.

I could see the vein in MJ’s neck pulsing. Not a good sign. My even-tempered, patient husband was about to lose it. The situation was out of our hands, but the frustration level was running high. MJ had spent a great deal of time planning the trip, going so far as to even make a travel folder with our itinerary. He wanted it to be perfect.

We miraculously made it onto the plane, all four of us. In Chicago, we ran to the gate and made the flight to Hawaii. Eight hours later we touched down in Honolulu. All of the stress and anxiety of the travel day began to catch up with us. Only the sound of the surf and the salty air could remedy what had been set in motion.

We took the boys straight to the ocean where they played in the waves and we stayed until dark to watch fireworks on the beach. The week that followed was one of the best of my life. Up by 5 a.m. every morning (thanks jet lag!) to watch the most beautiful sunrises, and then on to new adventures- watching our boys do things I never thought they would attempt. They went paddle boarding, swimming at a waterfall, hiked inside a volcano, and they tried snorkeling. E even held a pencil urchin and a sea slug on the boat.

That horrible travel day was long forgotten by the time our trip ended, replaced by the memories all of the fun and interesting things we did while we were there.

For us, it was about the destination, not the journey to get there.