BC: New York, Ibiza, Dublin. Places where booze can be drunk, fun can be had and shopping can be done. Non stop partying and lying round the pool the next day, or visiting the wondrous local tourist sights.
AD: Places filled with other rabid children and knackered parents. Children shoved in every possible nook and cranny. Preferably tops a two hour drive away. Any further? You're in for a journey from hell (don't remind the husband of the ten hour Eurodisney drive when the girl puked three times during hour one). You choose your destination based on whether it has a good soft play and a pool that opens at 6am with lots of slides.
Free trampolines? Yes please!
BC: Bikinis, wedges, specially brought 'going out' outfits in white to show off your tan.
AD: Everything you own. Bar obviously a few vital things you will inevitably forget, which your husband will use against you in future arguments to prove your crap packing skills. Despite you packing for over a week prior to your departure. I forgot to pack swimming nappies once. This basically proved I was a bad mother. Forget the white dress, if you do make it abroad you will be forced into the shade for the fear your children will burn alive, so will see no sun. And white? You can't hide poo stains on a white dress. Fact.
BC: You may have tried to taste the local delights. Sat down for lengthy, boozy meals where money was no object and you had all the time in the world. You would not only enjoy a few cheeky cocktails but also indulge a ice cream based pudding as well.
AD: All you can eat buffet. A place where you can gurantee to have chips (Annabel Karmel can sod off when you're on your holiday) and also you can make as much mess as humanly possible without feeling guilty. This type of meal will inevitably mean that you never actually eat food with your partner as one is always at the buffet waiting for more nuggets. Whilst the other? Restraining the children from putting their mouth under the ice cream machine. PS take a big bag and fill it with rolls and fruit to last you the rest of the day. It's your right!
Man or Woman. Dressed as Scooby = happy girl.
BC: Maybe some nice Spanish music in a little cafe you find and it becomes 'your place'. Or perhaps hit a club with mates and get to listen to a song that will become the song of the summer, and when you hear it back home you can say you heard it first.
AD: People dressed as things. Could be Scooby. Could be Bob. Could be Belle. Just people. Dressed up as other things. Miming to crap songs. Eventually you will cave in and somehow will also get excited by this and will find yourself screaming "Miiiiinnnnniiiie" as you run after a character, punching other parents in the face (subtlety) to get a photo with them.
So there you go. After delivery your holidays will never be the same. In fact? You will end up coming home so exhausted you could do with another holiday to get over it. But there's no worries. Your kids will leave home at 18 by which point you will be in your late 40s/50s and there's nothing classier than a mid 50s woman, in a white bikini, supping cocktails whilst dancing to the new hot dance craze. Right?