Bubs is going on vacation! (you are hearing about it before he is!)

So the title of this post is 100% true: I’m forcing my husband to go on vacation. Depending on when you’re reading this, you might even know before he does.

I’m telling you first partly because I want a written record of his inevitable objections before he even has the chance to say them out loud.

“But Dani, I’m so busy at work and don’t have any vacation time!”
Actually, you have a very crafty wife who happens to know your boss—and he also thinks you need a break. Turns out, you have plenty of time.

“But Dani, we can’t afford it!”
You are so freaking cheap that your baptism money is probably still earning interest in your kiddie savings account. I’ve gone up and down your spreadsheets, and trust me—we can afford it.

“But Dani, you need my help with the kids!”
I love how great of a dad you are, but the truth is you haven’t taken any time for yourself in… ever. We have a nanny who’s with us most of the week, and I’m a full-time stay-at-home mom. I’ll get by.

“But Dani…”
Shut up, Bubs—you’re going surfing with your friend.

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So how did this all come about? As I mentioned in my last blog, Bubs’ best friend Tyler was just diagnosed with testicular cancer. Tyler isn’t just his best friend—he’s someone I’ve known my entire life. He’s the first person from our generation to face a major health scare, and it’s shaken everyone who loves him.

Today, I got a call from Tyler’s wife, Kristin.

Now, I love Kristin—but I’ve always suspected she’s one of those people I like more than she likes me. (And that’s okay. I can be… a lot.)

Tyler met her in college at San Diego State, and Bubs and I first met her during our West Coast college road trip. Tyler had prepped Bubs beforehand, saying, “Dude, she’s the girl I’m going to marry, so be prepared.”

To me, that meant, “Oh! She’ll be my new best friend forever.”

As we drove toward her parents’ house, we honestly thought we were lost because we kept getting closer and closer to the ocean. Turns out, she grew up in this beautiful little home perched on Point Loma with a completely uninterrupted view of the Pacific. I burst through the door, gave her the biggest hug imaginable, and talked her ear off for an hour straight. In hindsight, I probably came on a little strong—and I think that first impression has colored our friendship ever since.

That’s not to say we aren’t close—we are. She and Tyler live in Round Rock now, so when we lived in Texas, it was close enough that we didn’t turn into strangers, but far enough that we couldn’t just pop over for dinner. (Round Rock is actually a true testament to Tyler’s charm—that he convinced a SoCal 10 to leave that ocean view for suburban Texas.) We’ve done holidays and taken trips together, gone shopping, had beach chats. We’re friends… just not best friends. And that’s okay too.

So when I heard the news about Tyler on Monday, I wasn't sure if I should reach out. Thankfully, she solved that for me by calling today.

She started by saying how grateful she is that Bubs and I have always been there for Tyler, and that aside from his parents, Bubs was the first person he called. I told her we’d always be there for him—that I love Tyler like a brother, and we’d do anything for him.

We talked about all the usual things: how they found it, how the kids were handling it, what the doctors were saying. Then she admitted she was upset that Tyler seemed so nonchalant about having cancer.

I told her I completely understood—because I was about as “chalant” as anyone could be on Monday while my husband sat there watching a baseball game.

She laughed and said Tyler really does want to see Bubs but didn’t want to ask. That’s when we both had the same idea: if we wait for them to plan something, it’ll never happen. But if we plan it for them, they’ll have no choice.

So, we’re doing it. We’re organizing a surf trip before Tyler starts treatment. While I would love for them to have a “Terms of Endearment”-style reckoning about life and death, it’ll probably just go something like:

“You good?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.”

But in their own way, it’ll be just as intimate.

What I want is simple—two lifelong friends getting to hang out, decompress, and maybe remember how much joy still exists in the middle of all this.

We want to make it happen soon, before any treatment begins. So, the week before Thanksgiving, I’m putting my husband on a plane to a surf camp on the Baja Peninsula. He’s always wanted to go on a trip like this, and I couldn’t be more thrilled that I get to make it happen for him.

We still have a few details to iron out, but one thing’s official:
Congrats, Bubs—you’re going surfing.