I should have been packing my swimsuits for Maui. Instead, I stood in my kitchen listening to my husband explain why his mother deserved our tenth anniversary vacation more than I did. “She’s had a hard year,” Wade said about his perfectly healthy, child-free retired mother. Meanwhile, I’d been juggling two jobs to help pay our bills.
When Wade insisted I surrender my plane ticket, something inside me snapped. I agreed sweetly – then spent the next 48 hours completely reworking their “dream vacation.” By the time they boarded the plane, the luxury resort only had reservations for one: his mother. Wade’s new lodging? A $79/nail motel with paper-thin walls across the highway.
The frantic calls started immediately. “How could you do this to me?” Wade shouted. “You’re being petty!” But I was already driving to my own peaceful retreat, where I spent three glorious days reading, wine tasting, and – most importantly – not answering his calls.
Our reunion wasn’t pretty. A sunburned, exhausted Wade admitted he’d been manipulated by guilt. I realized this wasn’t just about a vacation – it was about years of putting his family’s wants before my needs. The space apart did us good. Now we’re rebuilding with clearer communication and couples counseling. And yes, we’re finally taking that Maui trip – with ironclad reservations in both our names.
