Oh, the stress. The stress, I tell you. It’s very stressful, the stress, it is.
And I regret to inform you that the biggest source of my stress right now stems from a subject that currently is embargoed, so I can not yet speak of it here, but suffice to say that the stressor in question? It’s particularly stressful … stressfully so, in fact. And when the embargo is lifted, there very well may be an absolutely riveting (to me, anyway) saga unfolding in these here pages. But, alas, that will have to wait for now.
Meanwhile, there’s the rest of the stress … the stress of pulling myself out of what I’m pretty sure was a lengthy bout of midlife-crisis-induced depression (which I believe has finally abated … not the midlife-crisis part, but the depression, anyway), and the stress of my ever-precarious employment situation, and the stress of juggling multiple side jobs, and the stress of barely keeping this blog alive, and the stress of coaching my son’s baseball team again (not my area of expertise), and the stress of also coaching my son and daughter through, you know, life, and the stress of maintaining a marriage that primarily revolves around the two little people in this house rather than the two big people.
And that last one? That last one needs to be addressed, because the relationship Wonder Woman and I have with each other is the reason why I’m willing to endure most of those other stressors … and when that relationship gets lost in the shuffle, and isn’t properly nurtured, I start wondering why the hell I’m putting up with all of this other bullshit.
Which is why, despite possessing a mountain of debt that rivals the deficits of several small African nations, and with the prospect of further financial hardship on the horizon, Wonder Woman and I are going to Mexico next week. So there.
“Should we cancel the trip?” That’s the question we were asking each other last week while discussing that of which I can not yet speak. And neither of us wanted to answer “Yes,” because this vacation has been long planned as a way for us to celebrate our most recent anniversary and our 40th birthdays (mine happened in January; Wonder Woman’s is later this month). Also, we regret canceling our trip to Paris 10 years ago. But also? We need this trip right now.
“You know what?” I said. “We shouldn’t cancel our vacation. Yes, it’s a lot of money, and yes, we’re biting off something really huge right now that would probably be better served by us not going on vacation at this particular time … but this vacation? This vacation is an investment in our marriage.”
Yes, I actually said, “an investment in our marriage.” How smooth is that, right? And it sounded so spectacularly convincing to both of us that, a week from this Friday, we will be kicking it at Secrets Maroma Beach Riviera Cancun on the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico:
And if you could find some way to convert into electricity the degree to which I am looking forward to this trip, you could power all of Manhattan from now until March of 2015 … because, during these past few months, when I felt like a man at sea who had fallen overboard and was bobbing amidst the waves atop some very deep, dark, frigid waters, the life-saving apparatus to which I clung was not a buoyant white ring with a rope tied to it, but rather the confirmation email that our travel agent sent to us for our Mexican vacation.
Internet, you can bet your sweet ass we’re not canceling it.
And how did we select this particular destination, you ask? (Just pretend you asked, OK? Play along, fer crissakes.) Well, it’s actually a bit of a social-media success story.
A few months ago, while searching around online for potential vacation destinations, I tweeted the following:
(And, yes, I know proper grammar would have been “include on your website pictures of families with young kids,” but, at the time I typed that tweet, I was delirious from the visions of the child-free tropical paradise after which I sought.)
A few minutes later, I added:
You know, just my typical laugh-a-minute, side-splitting stuff, right? And since I usually feel like I’m tweeting to a wall, so to speak, I was pleasantly surprised to receive the following @reply from @secretsresorts:
Wow. Now that’s a marketing person who knows how to use social media effectively, am I right? Of course I’m right … as evidenced by the fact that, before receiving the above-shown tweet, I had no idea this place existed, and now, specifically because of the above-shown tweet, my wife and I will soon spend four nights there.
Did I mention that I can’t wait?
P.S.: While at the Mom 2.0 Summit, I told some of the ladies about my impending vacation plans, and, to a person, every one of them blushed and did a sort of “Beavis & Butthead” laugh when I said, “We’re going to an adults-only resort called Secrets,” because they all thought that “adults-only” + “Secrets” = “nude swingers.” Let me assure you, as I did them, that this is not the case … as far as I know, anyway. Yes, there will be plenty of nudity, but I’m planning for it to take place behind closed doors with no one other than my lovely wife.
I promise a full report upon our return — minus the “behind closed doors” part, of course.