Ten years ago yesterday, I married my best friend. So ten years ago today we were on our way to Jamaica for an incredible honeymoon.
We both had kids when we met, so on our first vacation together we were already excited to get some alone time. That doesn’t mean I didn’t cry for ninety whole minutes when my dad took my little Coco and I had to say goodbye for a week.
Back then, our cell phones wouldn’t work in Jamaica, so I wouldn’t be able to talk to Coco except for every couple of days from the resort phone. I may have sneaked in a couple of extra short calls. Just a couple. Short ones.
Even though I was missing my baby, we had a blast.
We dined. For the first time as husband and wife!
And danced. For the first time as husband and wife!
And kissed on the beach. For the first time as husband and wife!
And felt like rock stars when we checked in and they gave us warm towels to wash our weary travel-stained faces.
I got all gussied up in at least three different outfits a day. I had one suitcase just for shoes. I guess I thought I was a rock star.
Then, on our last day at the resort, we went snorkeling. As soon as my head went underwater my body gave into the cold I’d been fighting for six weeks before the wedding.
So, the last night of my honeymoon was spent like this.
My sweet husband left me only long enough to get some burgers and fries from the beach grill. Because apparently, two bags of cheese nips weren’t enough. (See the empty bag on the nightstand?)
Until they slipped our phone bill under the door at two in the morning.
I’m sure you can guess what happened next.
We fought. For the first time as husband and wife!