September 21, 2011 – 5:33 am

The coveted “girls getaway” weekend is considered a mom’s haven away from home. A time to recharge the batteries, let her significant other spend more time with the kids (and the house) and a way to reconnect with friends.
This past weekend I was fortunate enougt to experience one of these havens. One of my closest friends’ husband extended an invitation to surprise his wife for her birthday. He asked another one of her girlfriends, Mel, to join as well and booked our flights.
My girlfriend, Kim, lives in this magical land called ‘Charlottesville, Virginia.’ A place covered in soft focus lighting, where pimples are forbidden, the dogs don’t bark, all homes and yards are perfectly maintained and neighbors grow fruits and vegetables in their garden, then throw a pot luck dinner.
In fact, hot air balloons fly overhead on a daily basis–it’s suspiciously perfect, like the Jim Carey film, “The Truman Show.” I wondered if there was a guy sitting at mission control saying, “Cue the hot air balloons,” while we were there.
Kim was extremely surprised and thrilled to have her two best friends in town to celebrate her birthday. We talked, drank, ate and laughed…all the elements of a girls’ weekend in tact. Big win to Kim’s husband.
However, like all good girls’ weekends, it had to end. After watching a rousing polo match on Sunday afternoon at the local winery, it was time for us to leave. We said our tearful good-byes and headed on our way home. Mel and I knew a few things for sure–our homes had not burned to the ground and the kids were still breathing…but that was about it. It was anyone’s game at this point and we prepared ourselves for the imminent return to South Florida.
Our decent back to hell…I mean South Florida…really began when we missed our connecting flight. The airline flight board said one time, but the airline decided it might be delightful to leave early (but did not bother to tell anyone). Meanwhile, Mel and I were stuffing our faces with fajitas at the North Carolina airport as the crew closed the door and then denied us entrance (even though the plane was there and still connected to the ramp) when we arrived at the gate according to the time we were originally told. At this point we were exhausted and exasperated, but were booked on another flight leaving late in the evening.
This may have also been the point of no return. The next two hours in the North Carolina airport were a blur of wine and too much Facebook. Somehow we made our second flight and landed in the excessive humidity and racing traffic of South Florida.
After hot air balloons, smiling neighbors and polo, I awoke abruptly to this scenario:
* My son explaining he had several projects due on Tuesday…but of course he’s done nothing…and needs supplies
* My daughter’s book log ignored…in addition to the mandatory reading
* Two inches of grease on all counter tops
* Dog pee etched into the grout of my bathroom…it wasn’t fresh
* Children refusing to get up in the morning (never mind the fact I landed after 1am)
* A dart board now hanging in the hallway
* I suddenly sprouted a zit that resembled one of Frankenstein’s bolts
But what really made me realize I was “home” was watching my dog Alley, the lovable Pit Lab, take down her fifth squirrel in the front yard as the elementary school children watched in horror. Oh yes, the bus was late that day so they were able to get a first hand account of her bashing the poor thing to death, then gleefully tossing its lifeless body into the air….as a small plane flew overhead dragging a big banner advertising a pizza restaurant. Yes….I was home from my girls’ weekend.
Photo credit: Sean Michael McCord
About Gina Ragusa
Gina Ragusa is a freelance writer and mom from sunny (and sometimes not) South Florida. Her 15 year experience ranges from writing about banking to tattoo parlors.
Posted in The Blog | 1 Comment »