One week from today, we will be on our way to Costa Rica. We will have a little more than a month to climb volcanoes, explore the cloud forest, spy on monkeys, soak in hot springs and play at the beach. And collect restaurant menus, inspect hotel rooms, decipher bus timetables and try to communicate in Spanish. (That second set of activities is just for me; hopefully my travel companions – twins, Daddio, grandparents – will stick to the first set.)
The twins are excited. Of course they have no idea what Costa Rica is. But they do know:
- They get to go on an airplane
- They get to see grandparents
- They get to swim with monkeys
That last one might not be totally true, but they will swim and they will see monkeys, so it sort of morphed into swimming with monkeys. I hope they are not too disappointed if the little monks don’t actually jump into the pool with them.
But that’s really the least of my concerns right now. I’m pretty busy pretending not to freak out about looming departure.
Here’s where I confess that I get super nervous in the lead-up to a big trip. This has always been the case, even pre-twins. Traveling with the kiddos only adds pressure: I am now responsible not only for my own comfort and happiness on this trip, but also that of the twins, and indirectly Daddio and grandparents too. Yikes.
If you gave me the chance to call the whole thing off, right now, no lost deposits and no breached contracts, I think I would take it.
But alas, the deposits have been made and the contract has been signed, so there’s no way out. Except through, as they say.
And it’s a good thing too. Because somewhere deep down, I know that this is going to be an amazing adventure for all of us. And wouldn’t it be a shame to miss out on it just because of the pre-trip jitters.