Good and Mustered

I was really happy that Trina felt that the kids were in good hands because that meant she could relax. And I don’t get to see that very often. In fact, my sister worries more than I think is healthy. I guess that’s not hard considering I don’t think worry is a very useful emotion in general.

I guess running your own business and having two T’ween boys is enough to stress out even the most patient of saints. As I am seeing. I think I have taken for granted in the past just how hard my sister works. She is a perfectionist with her photography and her people pleasing nature keeps her in a constant state of apology to her anxious brides when they begin their “polite“ whining to see their photos. I remember working in the wedding industry and the Bridezillas I met were not sensible or patient. How she deals with these demanding women, I will never know but she has earned my respect with her tolerance.

We got the kids unlimited drink wristbands which ensure they keep themselves hydrated. Next it was time for the mandatory muster drill and coincidentally, my feet began to ache unbearably. I laid on my bed with elevating my throbbing tootsies while the kids pulled out and curiously inspected their lifejackets. After the piercing alarm and the annoying announcement, Trina gently steered the boys out to the hallway. I pretended not to hear her assuring them Auntie would meet us there just as the door shut behind them.

After toying with the idea of skipping the monotonous exercise, I reminded myself that the little guys are depending on me. I groaned before hauling myself up to our muster station which happened to be in a dining room. We went through all the motions even belting on the bulky orange lifejackets before being released back to our cabins. It wasn’t as tedious as I remembered it to be and I ended up being glad I went, if only to appease the kids.

Grateful for safety.

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