Thai Christmas Vacation

You'd think I'd be ecstatic to travel to Thailand this week for Forced Family Fun and to see my daughter, our responsible Fulbright Scholar, teaching English in the north. Temples, tuk tuks, tea gardens, and pedicures.

Truth? Two weeks in Thailand and I'm terrified I'm gonna lose someone. Traveling with four adult-ish boys who all agree Die Hard and Gladiator are Christmas movies is like herding cats. Bruh, 6 7.

Honestly, I'd rather solo recon than rangle this pack. Serenity now. Matching t-shirts made for easy surveillance when they were shorter than Mom at Disney. Now? We’re doing this in full ’80s Griswold Thai Vacation style, cutting costs and screen time with no international phone plans for navigation, except for my husband and me, because, well…he's my sugar daddy.

Next week, I'm either gonna lose my husband in a street market in Bangkok (like Taste of Chicago when we were first married, but with more Typhoid fever and fewer brats) or my 15-year-old to a ping pong ladies' show in Patpong.

“What’s the legal age of consent?” He asked during dinner last week. I won't be surprised if he learns to talk Thai.

The other two, ages 18 and 20, will absolutely convert Grandma’s Christmas money into Singha beer and confidence. At least they'll be together.

Speaking of getting lost…I may try to escape to a White Lotus beach down south. Air tag my ass. Stay tuned for more Adventures in Motherhood!