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Last weekend we took a 3 day weekend with Rebecca and went a few hours south.  This trip was originally planned months ago with 4 other families to a water park.  The three of us planned to go on our own to a baseball game while we were down there as well.  Originally, I thought it would be an easy weekend away even though I was pregnant.  Hahahaha, that is fucking hilarious.  I was wrong. I’ve mentioned before that I knew we were just not meant to be babymoon people and this past weekend proved that we were so right.

Friday night we headed out to a baseball game.  The heat index was 115 degrees, the humidity was impossible to walk through and there was zero breeze to help.  Welcome to the Midwest.  We headed into the game, dressed in as little as possible, thinking that surely we wouldn’t have seats in the direct sun.  Wrong again, we did.  We spent a small fortune in bottled water, sucked it up and took our seats.  This is where I will admit, I love that heat and humidity and have handled it really well in this pregnancy.  Baby even took to rocking out every time the music was cranked for a new batter up.  My lovely Rebecca, however, does not handle it well.  She turns into a melting, whiny, child anytime the temps go over 70 degrees so she was a delight throughout the evening.  Somehow we managed to not be one of the people hauled out on a stretcher during the game but did walk back to the truck looking like we had properly pissed ourselves and smelled like hell.

Showers were a welcome sight at the end of the night.

The next day we joined the other families to head to a water park.  Eight kids between the ages of 6 months and 13 years, followed by 7 adults, trekked into this place.  I will spare the details and say water parks may sound like a good idea when you are hot and pregnant but they aren’t. Especially when the walk, with this tribe, was 30 minutes from our parking spot till we found chairs. There was absolutely nothing I could do after that but sit and hold down the fort by watching all the bags, strollers and chairs.  Even getting into the main pool to cool off posed a danger I never thought of,  300 crazy kids, with flailing limbs and my bump.  I was so worried about taking a direct kick or hit that I didn’t manage much more than a few quick dunks.  The slides, adult pool, wave pool and lazy river were all out as well due to the amount of people.  Have I mentioned the amount of people?  I mean, A LOT.  A lot of people means the water feels like piss.  I didn’t see a very long line for the bathrooms when I was there.  Deduce what you want from that.

On more than one occasion I was saddled with a child to watch while one of my adult friends went to the bar or just in general, ran off.  By the end of the day I was tired of babysitting, my feet were swollen (even though I merely sat), tired of having zero fun, tired of people, and really confused on why the general population of people have no idea how to properly dress themselves in a swim suit.  Also, I needed some real food and was hangry.  My Husband and Rebecca completely understood when I asked if they were good to go.  Some of the other adults were not as understanding as they were losing their babysitter and they thought I was being a party pooper.  I am never the party pooper and that caused me to feel like a giant ass as we trekked back to our truck.  I was tired of being pregnant and not myself.  Vacationing was not fun pregnant and that was that.

We rallied our evening with showers, dinner, and watching a baseball game in the hotel bar with a bunch of other fans, while eating desserts the size of our heads, with my feet up.  If you can’t have alcohol you might as well have cheesecake. Hours later the rest of the group came piling into the hotel with over-tired, not fed, burnt and screaming children.  I was not jealous  of them. Late that night, the three of us,  headed to our room and watched the Harry Potter marathon till everyone fell asleep.  It wasn’t perfect but it was a get away and my Husband reminded me that he really owes me a real trip next Spring.  You know, when I’m not pregnant.