My parting news gift from CNN is the report about women and stress. They ranked women in 29 countries and guess who's #1? The women in India. Why? Because they're an emerging nation creating jobs. The women are going to work and coming home to men who lift their feet so they can vacuum under them. And where do my American sisters rank? Number 11! Come on, ladies, get the complaints louder. I can't hear you. Where are those career moms with gluten-free kids driving car pool and applying mascara?!

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In case you're wondering–Sweden came in #29. Those babes are totally relaxed, skoaling and chilling out with an IKEA catalog.

But not me. It's been a long week on a dilapidated houseboat with my entire family. I'm not sure if it's relief that it's over or I'm just thrilled to clean off in a tiled shower instead of a plastic cubicle, but life in Scottsdale looks welcoming. I do appreciate the kids efforts for our anniversary; however, cooking on two burners, watching kids in the water and listening to my mother kvetch is not my idea of a wild celebration.

To summarize: We arrived at a dock where I expected a luxurious houseboat. Wrong!

"It may not be pretty on the outside but Gus and I got a really good deal," says Lara, her face stricken with fear.

"It looks like a floating mobile home. If your grandfather were here, he would make sure we had the upgrade," my mother says, wiping sunscreen on her face.

"Let's just make the most of it," I say, keeping the word 'cozy' in the back of my mind.

"Look Jean, there's a patio rooftop. I should've brought my golf clubs," says Maury giving me 'the look.'

We go inside and I feel like we walked into a 1982 time machine. Avocado appliances and brown plaid in rough polyester are very attractive. Be positive, I tell myself. Who knows? This could actually be fun. Who am I kidding? I notice the two sets of bunk beds.

"The little ones can use their sleeping bags. We'll take a bunk bed and Michael and Rivka can have the other."

"What about your father, grandmother and me?" I ask.

"The couch folds out and looks like the kitchen table can be broken down into a bed. It's all right here," says Laura as she hands me a two page fold-out of the boat with driving instructions. I'm still puzzled as to how my Phi Beta Kappa daughter thought one floating raft boat with 11 people ever sounded like a good idea.

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"What about Grandma?" I ask.

"We thought she might like sleeping in the cool evening breezes on the deck."

Uh-oh. Looks like snoring grandma gets the kitchen table/bed and we're sleeping upstairs. Now I know why I needed the sleeping bag.

Michael, Gus and Maury argue about who gets to drive the boat. It surprises me Maury is even interested. Maybe because it's a boat and not a car. Three days into the trip and my mother is still asking when we find the floating casino. I don't have the heart to tell her we're not off the coast of Florida.

"Jean, I'm miserable. You should have left me at the casino and picked me up on your way back. I'm hot, sunburned and the boys still won't let me drive."

"Mom, I know it's hot but there's water all around to cool off. And you're sunburned because you refuse to wear a hat and cover up your arms. We won't let you drive a boat 'cause you can't even drive a car."

"Well, the ladies in my building aren't going to know my children took me on a paid vacation if I don't have a tan."

By the last night of the trip we are exhausted. Everyone is sound asleep so Maury and I climb up to the roof patio with a bottle of wine. "Where did this come from?" I ask.

"I smuggled it in as contraband. Thought you might need a respite from beer, sandwiches, kids' screaming and your mother." So we sip our wine looking at the stars, enjoying the strange rock formations and some quiet talk. Maybe this trip isn't so stressful after all.

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