Harried Holidays

Am I the only mother out there that finds once-relaxing holidays not so relaxing any more?

We have been on two significant holidays now as a family and while both have offered a pleasant and fun respite from our day-to-day lives, I can’t say that I’ve returned home from them refreshed and relaxed.

First consider the packing and preparation. Like where will Bode sleep while we’re away? Last time it was the travel bassinette, this time it’s a portacot with an extra foam mattress. That’s nearly a third of the available trunk space in the car gone. Where will he sit while eating? Last time it wasn’t an issue because he was exclusively breastfed, this time he’ll need a highchair. The highchair at home would take up the entire remaining space in my Subaru (the only one of our vehicles that fits his carseat), so we’ll need to source a travel highchair that straps onto a normal chair. Thank goodness for the Internet.


Then, you’ve hit the road, you’re two hours in having already sung 350 verses of Old MacDonald with every conceivable animal, vegetable and farm machine possible, and baby is fidgeting to get out of his seat and crawl around. So you find the local park in a little town and it’s covered in bottlecaps and cigarette butts leaving you frantically trying to distract bub and draw his attention elsewhere. No problem for us, Bode prefers crawling through the dirt and woodchips in the playground which we then find scattered everywhere throughout his clothes and diaper. So now we need to find a new outfit which is packed in his gigantic suitcase (twice the size of my own) at the bottom of the pile in the car.

Or what if it’s raining and the local library (our favourite stopping place on a rainy day) is closed? Like tens of thousands of other reluctant, travel-weary parents, we are left with no other choice and fall headlong - kicking and screaming - into the vortex of that bastion of American capitalism and pull into the carpark of McDonalds. Ugh. After all, it is the only place in many towns that offers a safe undercover play area, clean changing facilities, food (and blessed coffee) for us, and lots of stimulation for a baby that is bored stiff with same old parental units.

Once we arrive at our esteemed destination, we know the hard part is over and look forward to getting stuck into fun, frivolity and glorious laziness. Now I don’t know about anyone else’s bubba, but Bode ditches any notion of laziness out the window as he automatically drops at least an hour off his nightly sleeping routine whenever we’re on holiday. And it’s always in the morning, meaning that he wakes regularly at 5:30 or earlier, every single day. No exceptions. It’s almost as though he can feel the charged energy of the place and knows that there is a whole new world out there with endless surf to play in and sand to be consumed.

Fair enough too, I wouldn’t dream of depriving him of the excitement that we are all up here to have. So it’s out of bed for everyone and straight after breakfast it’s time to get ready for the beach. Now where did I pack his swimmers, rashie, hat, sunscreen, sunglasses, extra nappies, wipes, sand bucket, shovel, beach ball, beach tent, towels, travel bowl, spoon, spillproof water cup and snacks to feed an army? Crikey I’m exhausted, I think I need a holiday. :)