Dear Bermuda,

I know we have only been apart for one week, but I already miss you terribly. Are you well? I do hope the sunshine is keeping you warm and the breeze keeps your palm trees gently swaying, that is how I like to remember you. I would like to take this chance to apologize to you for my last words to you before I left on Friday. You know, how I enjoyed our time together, but I needed to get back my children, my pets, my home... my real life. Let's just chalk that sentiment up to judgment clouded by too many poolside margaritas. Several people have, in fact, asked me if I missed my children while you and I were together, and I answer them truthfully... no, not really. Oh sure, there were moments when I thought "Oh Fraser would love to see the gigantic cruise ship coming in!" or "Hammie would love the hen and her baby chicks walking along the road!" or "Eleanor would love to splash in the heated pool!" but at no point was I thinking "Gee, I really wish my kids were here with me."

And I have decided that that is really quite healthy, thank you very much. I don't regret waiting until now to come and see you, before now I wouldn't have been ready. I guess I needed the stars to align you know? I needed all three of my children to be old enough that I felt in my heart that they would understand and be okay with their father and I going away without them for more than one or two nights. I don't want to traumatize my poor little angels, particularly since I will most likely be footing their therapy bills later in life. I needed to feel they were independent enough to spend a week with their grandparents, and that their grandparents were centered enough to be able to handle them for a week. And of course the most important consideration of all was that I finally reached the point where if I didn't get a lengthy break from the little mutants I was most definitely going to lose my mind (and there isn't enough money in Bermuda to pay those therapy bills.)

I cannot tell you how I will always cherish our time together. You provided me with two things I didn't truly realize how desperately I had missed for the last five years, hot coffee and good sleep. Of course you also allowed me to glimpse that "pre-child" life I once had, the one where I would wake up on a Saturday and just lie in bed because there was no where I needed to be and no little hand poking me in the eye demanding breakfast. The same life where I could read books without having to re-read every third paragraph because I had been interrupted the moment before and have already forgotten what I was reading. The same life where I could eat an entire meal sitting down, without having to pop out of my seat every few minutes to fetch food, drinks, napkins, towels, etc. And of course there were the martinis. If ever there was an emblem of my pre-child life it would have to be the martini, straight up please with kettle one vodka and three olives. You gave me back my martini, and I will always be thankful to you for that.

Of course the beautiful time we spent together has made my transition back to my "real" life a bit challenging. Suddenly instead of people waiting close by to refresh my coffee or clear my plate, there are people flinging pasta onto the floor and filling up ride on toys with peas; instead of leisurely mornings reading books by the pool there are frantic rushes to the minivan to make it to school, music, swimming, parties, airport tours and vet appointments; instead of late romantic dinners and various alcoholic beverage with my husband (oh yes! I remember you now! The man I knew back before you became "Go see Daddy!"), there is herding crazy children up the stairs like uncooperative cats and then 3 sets of teeth to brush, 3 pairs of pajamas to put on, 30,000 stories to read and all before there are the dishes to do and the house to straighten up just enough that should Child Protective Services drop by the word "squalor" should not appear on their report. And I haven't even showered today. I know, you are horrified.

Let's not kid ourselves though, we both know it never would have worked out in the end. You are far too high maintenance for me, what with your $9 a gallon gas and your $12 poolside margaritas (for the record, nothing that comes in a plastic keg cup should ever cost $12). Plus your very decadent and ridiculously delicious food, though so thoughtful of you to provide, has caused me to bring home a rather unwelcome souvenir in the form of 5 extra pounds. Plus you don't even recycle! No, right there I know even our mutual love could never over overcome such a monumental obstacle.

So I guess this is the end. We shared a beautiful week together, and will both keeps those memories close to our hearts. Now we must go our separate ways. You keep your gorgeous beaches, fascinating history, golden sunshine and poolside happy hour. I will keep my children (who do seem surprisingly bigger, if not particularly better behaved, since we returned) my wonderful husband and, at least for now, thanks to you, my sanity.

Cheers.