Toddler Holiday Inevitability's

We have just come back from our summer holiday, a few days away in a beautiful cottage in the middle of the countryside. Imagine Pimms on the porch, watching the sunset over slow flickering candle light. Imagine leisurely days going in to little knick knack shops buying the sweetest antiques to adorn our shelves on our return. Ha! You just remembered that we are the parents of two toddlers. This makes holiday a whole different kinda experiences. Here are the inevitability's of a UK holiday, with two tiny tots.

We went to literally the worlds most romantic and beautiful location. And let me set you straight I am all for holidays in the UK. We have always at least two a year. We have done Butlins and have even embraced the odd £9.50 Sun newspaper hol. But it makes NO difference where you are. Within two minutes? The kids own that abode. You've brought all their favourite toys for fear of meltdown, a wardrobe which contains pretty much everything they own from rain suit to a cossie due to the doom of the ever changing weather. You can't turn the log fire on for fear of the child putting head, hand, dog in it. 

They want to go to the beach they say. It's raining you say. WE WANT TO GO TO THE BEACH they say. So you drive two hours to the beach. In the pissing down rain. Like torrential rain. You get there. And you sit in the rain. Making a sandcastle. Looking like maniacs. But it's OK other equally miserable parents are doing the same. You then eat an ice cream. And go home. Over four hours driving. For one hour at the beach. Twenty minutes of that was spent trying to buy me a new waterproof oversized Mum coat. 

Is it me or does holidays makes kids be bat shit cray cray? The countryside is full of beautiful places to eat. Country pubs, little tiny tea rooms full to the brim of glorious food products but when we get there? We always end up turning into The Clampetts. Children forget good food takes like more than the 15 minutes it takes to cook waffles. So they go feral. They run. They shout. They destroy things. They then see said beautiful nice food and demand waffles. So you end up sacking off nice food establishments in favour of picnics (to be eaten at 11:30am) or 'snacks of holiday' i.e ice cream and shit. One night I had a pack of pork scratchings. For dinner. 

Or rather lack of it. After many, many futile attempts at getting my children to sleep in caravans, or log cabins, or hotels we decided this holiday to just give up. Yep. We gave up. Sorry Gina Ford. And this is how we ended up watching Dora the Explorer EVERY night and then going to bed at 8:30pm. One with one child, one with the other. No Pimms were consumed on the evening, we didn't even get to watch bloody Big Brother! Nope, we both spent ten hours confined to a bed with the following happening: toddler foot in head, toddler foot in stomach, toddler screaming random things like "I wanna be first", toddler getting up as she is cold, and so on. Then everybody up at 6am for another 'fun' day in the 'sun'. Urgh. 

Children love sand in the rain, ice cream for tea, Dora every night, sleeping with their parents, laughing at Mum's new daft coat, running around pubs, putting their feet on their parents body, all night, to keep warm. Kids bloody love holidays. Every little last minute of them. And as far as I'm concerned? That makes every manic, rainy, exhausting, bad nutrition, Dora watching moment worth it. Same place next year???

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