Recently, I took a mini-vacation; a weekend away with a
friend
– and our children.
Recently, I took a mini-vacation; a weekend away with a friend – and our children.
I don’t know why we did this. I don’t know what made us think that a weekend away with her two kids, Junior and no husbands was actually a break. When we told our husbands we were taking the kids and leaving them alone for two days they were delirious with joy. That alone should have told us it was a bad idea.
The first mistake we made was to drive to Los Angeles. I know that doesn’t sound like a mistake – but it was. I swear to you, the minute we loaded my mid-sized truck with three children, their various blankets, pillows, CD players, Game Boys, shoes, assorted books and snacks, the truck was the size of a mini Cooper. And we still had to fit the luggage in.
Once everything was stowed and the children were strapped into their seat belts, we were on our way. The good part was, we made it out of town without incident. The bad part was, once we got on the highway and were approximately two hours from any bathroom – all three children suddenly had to use one.
After that, we figured the kids would settle in, listen to music and the trip would be a breeze. Boy, were we naïve. Almost instantly, the kids began fighting over CDs. Once that fight was done and the CD players were taken away, they argued over which child had the most legroom. And then who was touching whom – until finally the arguments spiraled into a long, loud discussion over who was using the most oxygen simply by being in the truck.
It was about then that I realized that if I was going to live through the trip, I would need to open my luggage and find the extra-strength aspirin before we went any further.
Surprisingly, when we finally arrived in LA, the kids were still alive – although the backseat was no longer full. During the wars, we mommies had confiscated the Game Boys, the CD players, an extra blanket, all three pillows (which were being used as weapons), several pieces of LEGO and three bottles of water. We would have taken away the ”Captain Underpants” books, too, but there was no more room in the frontseat.
It was then that we made our next mistake. You see, we figured that children needed to run off the energy that they had stored up through the long car ride. So we checked in, changed into our suits and headed for the hotel pool.
We were just settling into our lounge chairs, sipping our margaritas and watching the kids swoosh down the water slide, when a loud whistle pierced the air. Suddenly, the six lifeguards on duty were pulling children from the pool, while one shouted into a megaphone to ”evacuate the pool NOW!”
It seems the pool had suffered a ”sanitation incident.” That was their term, incidentally – not mine. And you don’t want a translation.
After the children were thoroughly scrubbed in the shower with anti-bacterial soap, we took stock of our situation. We were in LA. The sun was shining. The children were clean. We took a daring risk and went to Disneyland.
Where the children spent the remainder of the weekend fighting over which ride to ride.
And on the long drive home, with three children asleep in the backseat, my friend and I made a pact. The next time we thought a weekend away with the kids would be a good idea, we’d seek counseling from a qualified therapist.
