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What I Did on My Vacation

Candy's Column

What I Did on My Vacation

Clearly, I'm not the only one suffering from post-holiday stress

That is, if you consider a “vacation” to be lugging a five-month-old, a car seat, two diaper bags, two computer bags, two massive suitcases and a purse through LAX en route to Philly Airport, where you lug the aforementioned items to a car rental place and then DRIVE for two hours to Harrisburg to visit family for three days, and then drive BACK to the Philly area to visit in-laws for another three days before hauling all of your crap to Los Angeles again where your kid is all, “Pacific Standard Time?  I DON’T THINK SO, PEOPLE.  My internal alarm is set to go off at 5 a.m., thankyouverymuch.”

No wonder I just devoured all of Mr. Candy’s Godiva chocolates.  Post-holiday stress drove me to it…!  Yeah, that’s the ticket.  Also:  YUM.  And:  Sorry, honey.    But I’m sure your assistant WANTED you to share (all of) them with me.  Right?  *Ahem*

Traveling trauma aside, the holidays really are a wonderful opportunity to spend quality time with our beloved family members, rediscovering all the reasons why we don’t actually live with them.  I’ve also discovered spending a week with long-distance family makes me miss Skye desperately — because, naturally, the only time I’m able to pry her from the hands of grandparents, aunts and cousins is when she’s hungry, tired and/or soiled.  “The kid just pooped.  Quick!  Where’s Candy?”  At which point I do my motherly duty and hide behind a plant until Mr. Candy finally steps in and changes her diaper.

And there’s nothing like returning home from such a trip to make you miss your family desperately — because there is no one else around to entertain the little one anymore, especially with Mr. Candy immediately leaving town on a business trip.  Skye keeps looking at me like, “I sure hope you have more tricks up your sleeve, woman, because I am used to MUCH more stimulation and adoration.  Now fetch more toys and dance like a monkey for me!”  To which I respond with a look that says, “I sure hope you plan to take better naps, because I am used to SHOWERING now!”  So far, this stare-down has resulted in a compromise wherein Skylar doesn’t sleep at all and I dance like a monkey for her.

I not only had a chance to bathe during our “vacation,” but I also got to enjoy some quality time with Mr. Candy.  Two years ago, we rang in the New Year on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro.  This year…?   We sat on his mom’s couch in Wilmington, Delaware with a glass of champagne, wondering who the hell Justin Bieber is and why he was allowed out past his bedtime to perform on Dick Clark’s “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve.”

Also, Justin Bieber’s hair is amazing.

Then we lamented that “they just don’t make ’em like Rick Springfield anymore” and grabbed our canes before shuffling to our rooms and calling it a night.

If how we spend the first day of the New Year truly reflects how the rest of year follows, well, clearly 2010 is going to be The Year o’ Glamour in our household.  Justin Bieber and His Hair only WISH they had so much excitement in their lives.

Happy New Year, everyone!  I have many fun things in store for The Laughing Stork, which I hope to tackle when Skye enters daycare part-time at the end of this month.  Which I hope to be able to mention without crying at some point this year.

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Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. A humor columnist for Disney, Nickelodeon, Scary Mommy, Reductress and Redbook, she also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats, the latter of whom are the real brains behind this operation (so send all complaints to them).

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