Andrew and I just got back from Venice, Florence, and Rome. I don't even know how to start to blog about it.
But! I do know how to blog about this:
Fifteen days ago, Mr. C. and I wrapped up a wedding, went home, and packed up our bags, our little spitfire, and our puppy. Four hours later, we were at my parents and two days later, the two of us were on a plane to Italy and I was a mess. I don't come from a family that travels a lot. Growing up, we went to the beach every couple of years, the lake every couple of years, and to visit family. We didn't do Alaska, Europe, Asia, or even cruises. The Chandler family, though, does all of the above (and more!). I have never met anyone who has traveled more than my mother-in-law. She's taken a morning helicopter ride around Mt. Everest, snorkeled in the Red Sea, flew a kite on the Great Wall of China, and has accidentally shut the power off of an entire city block in Saudi Arabia. Crazy, right?
So, when my in-laws suggested an adult-only trip to Italy immediately after Ben (Andrew's youngest brother) finished his mission, I was really excited and really, um, nervous. As a photographer, I have always dreamed about photographing Venice. As a wife, I thought it would be awesome to wander city streets hand in hand with my husband. As a mom, I turned into a leaky faucet every time I thought about leaving my baby with my mom in a different country than I would be in. But! You don't turn down a free ride to a once in a lifetime opportunity, especially when it comes nice and handy with one of your lifetime photographic goals, so I gave my baby to the lady who raised me, boarded a plane, and called home every single day.
It was sad, but it was wonderful.
I mean, let's be honest. I cried nearly every single day because I missed my son and felt like a selfish brat for leaving him, even though he went to California with my family and played with his cousins nearly every day he was at my parents' house and he wasn't forced to take a nap at a set time like he would have been if he were home with me. And let's be honest some more. Italy was magical, but my nose still looked funny in my new glasses and my maternity jeans still gave me love handles and I got really sick of Italian food really fast and I made my husband eat at the Hard Rock Cafe twice, even though it caused him to get hit on by one of the (male) hosts, and there was human poop in one of the streets in Venice and it was cold and rainy nearly every day, and my feet smelt really bad every night and, in Florence, my husband broke every bed he sat on (ha!).
But! It was incredibly fun and funny and an awesome experience just the same.
Thanks again for taking us, Mom and Dad C.!