After a scary flight where I spent most of my time vomiting in the cabin toilet and crossing my legs praying to the Porcelain God my stomach wouldn´t explode and stink out the whole plane we finally landed in Mexico.

It was probably not a moment too soon. The passengers on board who were stuck with me and my stinky bowels were ready to form a mob and lynch me. Apparently, flying across several countries while trapped in a small tin can with poor ventilation and some twit suffering with the stomach flu is not most passengers idea of a good time.

I´ll file that away as useful knowledge for the flight back home. And invest in some Bepto-Bismol at the airport.

Having never spent this much time trapped with my husband, I was a tad worried we would fight and squabble and this trip would ultimately be the end of our marriage.

I´ve been pleasantly surprised to learn we still like each other after all these years of marriage.

 Especially after one or two tequilas and a full body sunburn.

After watching Boo play soccer and volleyball yesterday while I sat on a chair and read a book  played referree, I was struck by just how much I love this man I´ve saddled myself to for the long haul.

Everywhere we go, he attracts children. They adore him, whether they are locals or tourists. If they are under the age of 12 and under six feet tall, they find my husband and adore him as though he is some little known rockstar.

I had forgot this about him. Or perhaps I never knew this at all and this is something new to him, to us.  But when I see the gentle smile on his face as he happily organises the throng of gathering children to play some game while other adults just walk by and are grateful it is him and not them, I´m reminded once again of just how lucky I really am.

He really does have the patience of a saint and a heart of gold.

All of this plus he hunts down toilet paper for me on an airplane.

Really. Could I get any luckier?