The biggest down side of being a blogger is the false expectations you unknowingly develop from everything in your life.
From the pinterest perfect wedding to a thrifty honeymoon capable of lighting up your instagram. A house that jumped straight out of a catalogue and (finally) a baby who must not look any less adorable than Harper Beckham and perfectly fit into your DIY fairytale.
This is what you get for trying to make a living out of unnecessary social media exposure for the better part of your day.
I was only a few weeks into my pregnancy when thanks to the sneaky search engine algorithms and my paranoia regarding the initial signs of pregnancy, the internet found out that I was expecting.
Well only if men weren’t oblivious to hints and hormones, we wouldn’t have to make Google our closest confidante and let it take advantage of us by introducing pregnancy comfort (read; healthy) food, online maternity wear stores, maternity photo shoots and top 10 destinations for a baby moon.
But guess who had been keeping my relationship with Google in check. The very jealous husband (also a.k.a Saad)
So he was okay until I had spent a fortune on organic veggies that neither of us had ever heard of before but according to Google would help ease labor and save Mr. Husband a hormonal meltdown in the middle of grocery shopping.
But then I decided to take it to the next level and threw right at him the idea of travelling for a baby moon.
“Wait!! What?? What’s that??”
Turns out internet has been feeding us the wrong ideas all along and surprisingly everything women have been infamously known for.
-Men are not all that cool and venturesome.
-They like to weigh the pros and cons and crush the spirit of a spontaneous plan
-They do not hesitate to turn down the ideas presented by extremely hormonal women.
We were running short of time and I could see my travel limitations becoming non-negotiable therefore Mr. Husband left me no choice but to draft my 13 reasons why and spam his mailbox and his mind over the next couple of weeks. In return there was a substantial increase in my knowledge about a man’s rustic understanding of a pregnant woman’s anatomy and how it is vulnerable to the potential risks of travelling.
But at last after much drama and debate he agreed on how we must celebrate the privilege of having the hotel bed to ourselves one last time and I, on the other hand compromised on the idea of travelling by air and settled for a less risky and less hectic plan.
We booked a resort for the weekend in Ras Al Khaimah, which was a two hour drive from home. The resort gave us access to a private beach where we lazed around while the tiny human inside enjoyed the white noise of the waves and gave the frantic kicking a rest.
The hotel took good care of us, gave us a room with a great view and I thoroughly enjoyed the special treatment at the breakfast buffet where the waiters offered to get anything that I wanted on the table.
We enjoyed lying at the beach, watching children throw fits about the sand being too hot and parents trying hard not to succumb to the embarrassment.
We observed parents joining us at the resort (in a completely non-judgmental way) and discussed parenting choices and decisions for our child’s well-being especially if she refused to wear sun screen and slipped right out of our lubricated hands.
At the end of the weekend Daddy to be agreed that it was indeed a great opportunity to see it all unfold and to find ourselves walking in the same shoes pretty soon. Please note I’m referring to comfortable flip flops and strictly no heels.
Speaking of comfortable shoes, we also got a little adventurous and went for a short hike at the highest peak of U.A.E called the Jebel e Jais
Alright so we may not have taken a flight to bask under the Mediterranean sun (and I think I will be holding onto the babymoon blues until I have a proper one for the next baby) but I absolutely enjoyed spending a memorable weekend next to the ocean with self-indulgent long walks, great room service and adjusting well into a family friendly environment.