Conversation with my husband:
“Hey, my mom said she’d watch the kids so we can go on vacation. Where do you want to go?”
“Um, doesn’t matter. No kids is enough of a vacation.”
“Ooookay. Well, I’m going somewhere. You should come with me.”
“Let’s see where we can fly for the cheapest, book a flight and figure it out.”
And that’s exactly what we did. That single conversation turned into the perfect little escape—just what we needed, even if I sometimes disagreed with parts of it.
We’ve been married for 12 years, and it had been far too long since we left the kids for anything more than a date night. The idea of four nights away felt almost decadent. We love our children, of course, but any parent will understand how restorative a child-free break can be.
We sailed from Long Beach, California aboard the Carnival Inspiration—our very first cruise. We didn’t know what to expect, except the freedom to relax, dance, soak in the hot tub, and eat pizza any time we wanted. Frankly, that was enough for us.
On the first night’s show we volunteered to go onstage for a game. To our surprise we were “crowned” VIPs—with front-row seats for shows and a backstage peek. We also walked away with a plastic trophy that now sits on our mantle as a funny reminder.
Our first port was Catalina Island. We hadn’t booked any excursions and planned to simply wander, explore the colorful streets, and play on the beach.
When we saw parasail boats dotting the water, we decided to be spontaneous and sign up. First, though, we did what comes naturally after hours of cruising: we ate more food. Because why not?
I’ll be sharing a separate post about our favorite ship eats soon, but one highlight on the island was Scoops Homemade Ice Cream—creamy flavors served in a perfect waffle bowl.
We also met Django, a friendly dog who belonged to the owner of the Island Toy Shop. If he’d needed a new home, I would have smuggled him into our stateroom in a heartbeat—he was that sweet.
Parasailing was surprisingly calm and smooth—nothing like the dramatic ride we imagined. We asked the crew to let our toes dip the water, but their aim was a bit off and we got a little wetter than planned. Still, it was a blast.
“Eating It”
After parasailing we had time before the tender back to the ship, so we decided to swim. I went to change while Ammon headed straight to the beach. As I came down the stairs to the sand, I took a misstep, rolled my ankle, and wiped out spectacularly in front of several people.
I sat on the rocky sand waiting for someone nearby to offer help or at least ask if I was okay, but no one did. It was an odd and slightly surreal moment.
The fall left my big toe split and my left shin scraped along its length. My right ankle swelled immediately and a painful knot appeared on the top of my foot. I feared it might be broken and signaled to Ammon in the water for help.
Getting me back to the tender was an ordeal. I was in shock and convinced our vacation was over, picturing myself confined to a chair while he enjoyed snorkeling, shows, and dinners. Ammon, however, sprang into action: he found a wheelchair rental, got me onto the tender, returned the rental, and made it back onto the boat just in time.
That evening Ammon tended to me—pushing me in the wheelchair, refilling my ice pack, bandaging my cuts, helping me in and out of the hot tub (which I insisted was therapy), and making me feel beautiful during the formal dinner even when I felt decades older. After 12 years of marriage, it seems love shows up in the small, reliable ways.
The injury didn’t ruin the trip. I still had fun on the remaining days, and the experience gave us something valuable: a reminder to lean on each other. Life has been busy—Ammon with grad school and me juggling kids and work—so we rarely get to depend entirely on one another the way we did that afternoon on the beach.
I didn’t need the fall to test people’s kindness, but in the end what mattered most was relying on my partner. He was my rescuer and my comfort, and I’ll always be grateful for that.
Later, the crew phoned with playful offers and Ammon declined any attention-grabbing antics across the hot tub. He also obligingly stopped for pizza on our way back to the stateroom when I asked. True love, indeed.
Carnival graciously hosted us aboard the Inspiration in exchange for my honest experiences here on the blog. All thoughts and opinions are my own.