Did I happen to mention I’m in Aruba?

It’s true, the curse is definitely broken, as I creek into day 7 of an 11-day commercial shoot here.

I won’t protest too much; business travel always has its sweet side. Dipping my toes in the turquoise Caribbean is delightful. A boozy, frosty, pink drink at the lobby bar after a 15-hour shoot day is one of life’s great joys. Sleeping in a bed without children crawling all over me is a luxury I didn’t realize just how much I needed until I slept a whole seven hours straight without an elbow in my ear. I’ve even squeaked in a couple of decent meals and some interesting sightseeing in the course of location scouting.

But the image that creeps into my consciousness and haunts me throughout the week aren’t the turquoise lizards or the sweet pineapple, but Thalia’s tear-stained face as she sobbed into the phone from Grandma’s house, I [sniff] want [sniff] to come [sniffle] hooooome. I want to see mommmmyyyyyy.

I had the opportunity to bring them here for some of the trip, but I did (what I thought was) the right thing and turned it down; I thought it would be too distracting on a very grueling project. Next time I may see things differently.

Thalia and Sage made a calendar so they could tick off the days until Monday. What they don’t realize is, I’m doing the same.