Two Tickets to (Colonial) Paradise

I booked our family vacation this weekend.

Oh yeah, I said vacation. We're going to Williamsburg: short drive, nice resort, relaxing time mixed in with a theme park. I'm probably more excited about this than I should be, but you have to know our history of planning trips to know how significant this is. The history usually runs like this:

Me: Let's *do* something this summer.

Hubs: OK.

Me: Great! I'll look up some places and we can pick something.

Hubs: Cool.

**A month goes by, I'm the only one looking into anything, I get bitter and stop. We go nowhere.**

Lather, rinse, repeat for like a million years.

I HATE planning trips, for the above scenario plays out over and over every time I want to do something. We were on our way down this road again in the spring, when I wanted to plan a beach trip and everyone was on board with the notion as long as I did the research, booking, etc. So once again, I got bitter ...

... and bought a treadmill.

But then, like cockroaches and Speidi, the vacation notion just wouldn't die: My mom mentioned that there's a Sesame Street section of Busch Gardens, for smaller kids. So I started thinking about going down to Williamsburg, maybe staying somewhere nice, just doing one day at the park, etc. My little guy would have fun, but it wouldn't be too overwhelming. We could still relax. We kicked the idea around for about a week and it was starting to fizzle ...

And then my brain was like, "Aw HALE no, we are not getting robbed of a vacation again!" So while my husband took a nap on Saturday, I booked the entire trip--resort, tickets to the park, everything. By the time he woke up he was on his way to Williamsburg.

Yes, I had to do all the planning again. But I'm getting a trip. And my treadmill. See, ladies? Sometimes you can have it all. Try not to be jealous.