Ah yes, I’ve been quite AWOL around here lately, haven’t I?
Well, all I can say is that if you’ve:
a) been on a bumpy turbo-prop flight over the Rockies
b) watched your son boot all over your husband and himself mid-flight
c) you yourself boot upon landing and a bumpy descent
d) drag your screaming, underwear-only clad child screaming through the airport so that you can put him into clean clothes
e) barely make your connection back to Chicago only to learn that your husband had to sweetly coax the ramp agent to get himself new pants
f) then sit aboard another bumpy flight where your son proceeds to boot again (I caught it in the bag that time, and yes, I am very proud of that one)
g) wait on the tarmac one hour before heading to your gate upon landing
h) arrive home 10 hours after you left on what was supposed to be a 4 hour trip
Well, then, you’d be AWOL too.
More soon, I promise, once I stop rehashing the details of the world’s most-comical, yet messy flight experience.
I’ve never been so tired from a vacation trip in my entire life. I’m not complaining about spending a week in the sunny mountains of Colorado, but oh man, if someone would have told me I would have been woken up at 5:30 every morning only to take care of a delerious non-napping toddler for the duration of my vacation trip, I would have asked to be sent back on the next flight back to O’Hare even if the only spot was in the cargo hold.
Vacations trips as a solo parent are exhausting. While Nana and Papa are supremely helpful, no one is mommy. No one can put a jacket on like mommy. No one can fill a glass of milk like mommy. No one can wipe a nose like mommy. No one can play with the zebras and “smooth tigers” like mommy. Yes, we bring the Schleich on vacations too.
There were times of pure joy and happiness in between the mommy mommy whining. Ever see a 3-year-old on skis? It’ll melt your heart. And your wallet, but that’s where Nana and Papa’s helpfulness come in handy.
I ignored couldn’t hear the shouting for mommy through the helmet.
I know I’m extremely lucky to have been able to get away like this. But I just once wanted the roles to be reversed. Mommy, can I get you a glass of milk? Mommy, would you like to sleep in after sunrise?
But as such, I am the mother of a toddler, who, in strange locations, just needs a familiar being to latch onto. Besides, by the end of the vacation trip, everyone around me was too tired to pitch in even if the little man would have let them.
Ski lesson for the grandson: $100. Falling asleep on bench at lunch spot: priceless.
by selfmademom on December 22, 2008 · 1 comment
There’s no better way to save money on vacation than to visit your in-laws, who happen to live in sunny (I just jinxed myself) Florida. I’ve never been so excited to visit the state of bad drivers and outrageous buffets as I am after two days of negative temperatures and record snowfall. Whoever says there’s global warming hasn’t visited Chicago recently.
We’ll eat for free at the “club” and since there’s nowhere to walk to and virtually no car for me to borrow down there, we can all rest easy that a desperation trip to the mall (because I’m prone to going stir crazy amidst bad driver and buffet eating) will not happen. Unless someone else is paying. Which they won’t be because, well, they’ve all invested in the market as well.
So here’s to my trip to warm (doh!) weather, gorging myself on free buffets, and no jacket, mitten, hat or boot wearing for a whole week.
Enjoy your holidays.
1) Even if they are super cute, on major sale and look ski-slope chic, do NOT wear fur-lined boots on an airplane while chasing a two-year-old. Your feet will get very hot. Like I need to take a cold shower when I got home hot.
I think I’m still hot.
2)Â Coming back from vacation to your SAHM routine is a heck of a lot better than going back to work the next day.
3)Â It’s a good idea to remind your husband to water ALL plants in the house while you’re away. Not just the one on the main floor. (Happy anniverary, hon.)
No, I didn’t get new flowers today.
4)Â Wake up really really early in the morning or put your kid to bed really really early so that you can watch all the back-logged episodes of Project Runway, American Idol and Nip/ Tuck that you missed.
5)Â Try to get to the grocery store the morning of your return. Otherwise, you’ll be scrounging around Starbucks for a nutritious breakfast for the little one.
I think I’m going to petition Starbucks to keep breakfast sandwiches on their menu.
Long before the advent of digital cameras, phones with video and the internet, my parents would tell us to record the experiences of our youth to our memory. My dad would instruct us, “put it in the memory book.”
On our various sojourns to the western-most parts of the country we’d pass by the huge mountains of Colorado, awestruck at their beauty. We’d see buffalo roaming the great plains of Wyoming. We’d gaze in disbelief at the massive redwoods in California. We’d capture what we can on our old 35mm, but what I remember most about those trips were what we didn’t record, those memories we would talk about late at night near the roaring fire or in the car on the way to the next destination.
Those became the photos of my memory book.
I always thought along the way that the memory book was just mine to cherish, but as I grew, I realized my parents’ memories were richer and deeper than any my 10-year-old brain could remember. They relied on these memories as we grew older and vacationed less with them. (My current trip not included.)
Now, with blogs, flickr, podcasts, web conference calls, we don’t need to rely on our memories as we used to. Technology does it for us. We can click on the details, replay the memories on a whim rendering the memory book almost obsolete. As a parent, this is an incredible luxury; we don’t miss a thing.
But we cannot possibly capture the essence of a parental memory solely on a 14-second grainy video. I realized this yesterday when I put my son on skis for the first time. This was a moment I had dreamed of since I was a child – skiing with my child. And when it happened, the 7-megapixel photo couldn’t truly do the squeals and shrieks of laughter eminating from my son justice.
Memory: on skis, age 2
But at least it will help trigger my memory book should my mind fail me one day. I’m not above technology helping remind me why I became a mother.
I’m finding it hard to throw all rules and regulations of child-rearing out the window just because we are on vacation.Â
On sugar:
- For instance, I would strongly advise against giving junior an ENTIRE box of concentrated apple juice in one sitting. And you wonder why he’s bouncing off the walls at dinner.
- And if, by chance, he’s already HAD the apple juice, you are not allowed to then permit him to eat sugar cubes and offer him ice cream for dessert when at such dinner.
Â
On conversation:Â
- It’s not cute to teach a two-year-old how to say “shut your trap” just because you don’t like the DJ on the local radio station.
- It’s even less cute to talk about “how annoying your mommy’s being.”
On separation:
- When preparing to drop off junior at ski school, I would advise against the strategy of putting the words “new toy” and “when you’re done” in the same sentence.
- It doesn’t make it any easier to scream and groan and talk in melodramatic tones about how you’re NOT GOING TO LET JUNIOR CRY AT ALL EVER NEVER EVER.
On giving mommy-time:
- Offering to watch junior while mommy goes on the eliptical machine is much appreciated.
- So was changing that nasty #2 yesterday. Thanks for that.
