Two years ago, my husband, Rob, and I were invited to a wedding in Italy. We wanted to go, but we just couldn’t. Life, logistics, and another wedding that same week conspired against us. But when it was rescheduled, we were determined to make it happen.
This time, we said yes, not just to a wedding, but to a much-needed break from the grind of parenting, commuting, coordinating, and caretaking.
When you’re a mom, vacations usually mean road trips filled with “Stop touching me!” alternating with “Are we there yet?” and over-exhaustion at theme parks, and forgotten favorite stuffies. But this was Italy! This was romance, aperitifs, fashion, and exquisite food. This was a second chance. It was an offer we couldn’t refuse!
I fantasized about gliding through airport security with just my crossbody bag, sipping an Aperol spritz whilst lounging poolside, finally finishing that novel I started during the holidays. But the reality was not so carefree. Worry and travelers’ insurance were right beside my passport.
Who would watch the kids for five days? We’ve never left them for that long. Our eldest, a tween glued to Wi-Fi and obsessed with soccer, wouldn’t be thrilled to be away from his room, but this experience would “build character.” We were more concerned about our 6-year-old. She’s a whirlwind of activity and at times, emotion.
Our long-time babysitter was away. We arranged for my parents to stay at our home with the kids, with support from friends and my cousins. We had to pivot when my father developed health issues. Thankfully, my husband is one of four siblings. We ended up with a relay race between his sister and brother. I started saying we are going to Italy, “God willing,” and whispered prayers of “Please, just wrap yourselves in bubble wrap until we get back.”
Then came packing not just for me, but for everyone. I packed my kids’ overnight bags, day camp gear, snacks, outfits, and surprises to help their caretakers survive. I left behind detailed daily schedules, emergency contact information, medication, and notarized medical forms. I did my best to plan for everything.
And for myself? I styled myself for every scenario: cocktail hours, spa lounging, cobblestone strolling, and a formal wedding in the rolling hills of Umbria. I checked the weather in three cities. I laid out outfits by day and activity. Inspired by classic films like Roman Holiday, I packed floral dresses, crisp cotton and linen looks, two pairs of heels, two pairs of flat sandals, a steamer, and, of course, backup options. My hairbrush, however, didn’t quite make it, as I discovered in Tuscany. (Our hotel gift shop to the rescue!)
The night before our flight, we drove two hours to drop off our kids. We got back around midnight and realized my husband was missing the tie meant for this wedding, a black belt, and new shoes that hadn’t arrived. The next morning, after finding the tie, we power-shopped on our local avenue (shoutout to Robert’s Department Store and Miller’s). We were ready.
We whizzed through check-in and security just as we envisioned. Cue congratulatory airport selfies and a cocktail…until my white jorts were christened with red wine. (Packing tip: always bring wet wipes and a sense of humor.) Soggy denim and all, I was still thrilled—we were finally on our way!
Rome was beautiful.
The countryside? Magical.
The wedding? Straight out of a movie.
Sure, there were missed tours, no AC at times, transportation hiccups, and moments of “Did we overdo it last night?” But each glitch was met with a shrug and a smile. This was indeed “la dolce vita.” We laughed and danced with other guests who were also remembering who they were before carpools and camp pickups.
And the outfits? The specialness mattered. Not in a shallow way, but in that “I remembered how to feel like me again” way. Admiring each other’s finery and the colorful fabrics that flashed by as the women moved to the band’s beats all added to this majestic pageantry. Everyone was relaxed, carefree, and having fun—a true vacation.
Returning home, there were delays, more transportation chaos, and, yes, airport pizza that even in Italy tasted like airport pizza. But then, just like that, we were hugging our daughter and waiting for our son to return from STEM camp.
The stars aligned. We were fortunate to be part of this joyous celebration. The logistics were crazy, the planning stressful. But the reward—reconnecting with my husband, celebrating love, sipping wine in Tuscany—made it all worth it.
