I have recently returned from a weeks holiday in Bluestone and Disneyland. My family had the most amazing time. But I'll be honest? I returned a broken woman. I've put on at least a stone comfort eating at the all you can eat buffet due to 'the pressure' and my leggings? Have holes in the gusset from the constant running around like a maniac. So here is going on holiday. Mum style.
The packing is generally left to us Mums and so is most of the organisation. It takes weeks. A lot more weeks than we will actually be there. Starting with the outfits needed for every eventuality (snow suit that combines a swimming costume anybody?!). To ensuring that everyone needs are met. If this mean carrying a VAST amount of cheap snacks into another country. So be it.
Each bag I took equals 47p. I spent £50 on Toy Story dolls. You do the math
Saving a few quid
See above. For a good month or so I wrack my brains to work out how I can save a few pennies here and there. I REFUSE to buy full a priced fruit shoot in another country but then will get inevitability get conned into buying an overpriced pen set or teeny tiny dolly in the gift shop. As earlier I saved myself a grand total of 50p.
Turning wherever you are. Into a semi home
For some reason since I've become a Mum I don't feel comfortable unless wherever I am is like a miniature version of my actual home. Which means a well placed comfy blanket here and turning ANY bathroom sink into a washing up bowl. Complete with small washing liquid and a cheap bottle of squash I have lugged across the sea. As other countries don't sell squash. Do they???
Abandoning the rules of sleep
In a fit of madness. Amongst all the OCD planning and organisation one thing always slips through the net. The rules of sleep. If your child is normally in bed by seven, alone and snoozing soundly. On holiday? F*ck that! They are still up at 9pm and you end up sleeping four to a bed to ensure that at least some of you (and by that you mean them) gets a remote bit of sleep. Bye bye romantic life. Hello foot in head, elbow in rib and stinky nappy in your nostrils.
Using your initiative
You quickly adapt to your surroundings. By this I mean finding the wifi code IMMEDIATELY and shoving YouTube on stat. Having a small meltdown if the code doesn't work and shouting at your husband as if it is his fault. Which it probably is.
Adopting an almost manic style of enthusiasm
"Ha ha ha ha he he he this is fun this is just so much fun is everyone having fun are we having fun tee hee FUN FUN FUN". Holidays send the normal sane woman. Cray cray. The pressure gets to you. The lack of sleep gets to you. The saving 50p a day from carrying round your own fruit shoots gets to you. You enforce fun on everyone. And then when the cracks begin to show...
Having a small weep when it inevitably all goes tits up
"I. Just. Wanted. Everyone. To. Have. A. Niiiiiccccccccce tiimmmmmme" you sob whilst your husband looks on in terror. Your children are baffled thinking "we were having fun till you went cray cray banging on about bloody fun you insane lady". But? After a luke warm diet coke you dragged across the channel tunnel meaning you saved £1? You are back to normal. Just.
Leaving more exhausted than when you arrived
The kids have loved sleeping with you every night. They have gorged on their favourite snacks. They now own a £15 novelty pen set and they couldn't have had any more fun if they tried. Your husband has lived in slight terror of you the whole holiday but you? Leave your destination needing a post holiday holiday. But you can't have one. As you now have to spend three weeks washing. Sh*t.