This week, Mummy and Daddy took their 3 perfect darlings on holiday to Lanzarote. Ah holidays.
It is of course half term in the UK so Mummy and Daddy get to pay 3 x the sodding normal price to go on ‘holiday’.
Mummy and Daddy usually spend the first two days of their holidays reminiscing about when their holidays consisted of going to art galleries, or sitting in a Spanish tapas bar ALL AFTERNOON...or when random exciting things happened like when Mummy and Daddy went to Barcelona and found themselves upgraded to the room in the top of a hotel next to Pierce Brosnan.
Of course there is no way that in that situation Mummy would drink all the free wine scattered liberally in multiple bottles around the many rooms in the upgraded suite. Nor would she EVER drink so much that she felt it wise to knock on Pierce Brosnan’s hotel room door to introduce herself. Nor would she giggle hysterically as she slid down the wall trying to look all sexy (but really was just looking like a drunk newt) when he opened the door. Mummy would never do anything so embarrassing like that. No never ️ Mummy never does embarrasing things. Never.
Those were holidays before kids. Now Mummy and Daddy get to pack approximately 4 trillion sets of kids clothes for a 7 day week because Mummy’s little offspring are unable to move cutlery into their mouths without smearing ALL THE FOOD all over their clothes first. On the rare occasion they manage it by using their fingers instead of cutlery, the little darlings then finish the meal by wiping their tomato sauce covered fingers all over their clothes.
Of course Mr Easy Jet knows this so he charges £21.50 for a flight seat but approximately £400 million for each piece of luggage. Mummy and Daddy are looking forward to holidays where their kids are smelly teenagers and wear the same clothes all week.
Now if you are reading this before you have had children, Mummy imagines you are thinking “oh how perfectly lovely, I can’t wait to count shells on the seashore with my future offspring”.
What you think holidays with kids are like....
Mummy also used to think this but it is a LIE! THAT. IS. NOT. HOW. IT. GOES...
Mummy shall explain how a holiday with young children really goes.
At 4am on flight day Mummy woke up said darling children and had to jump around all chirpy and excited so the kids would not cry at being woken in the middle of the night. Mummy likes sleeping so every time she does this she hates Mr Easy Jet and Mr Ryan Air a little bit more for scheduling the ONLY flights to Lanzarote at 6.30 am
Once on the aeroplane, Mummy and Daddy apologise in advance to the old man sitting in their row. He looks horrified that he has been allocated a seat next to a 3 year old. Mummy totally lies and says “she will very very good”.
Approximately 30 mins later Mummy has to apologise to said old man as she peels the slice of processed cheese that her 3 year old has slapped on his trousers leg.
Once in Lanzarote Mummy sends Daddy off to find a taxi. This is because last time Daddy drove the hire car and Mummy does not wish to repeat that experience or subject her darling offspring to Mummy screaming “OMG we are all gonna die” every time Daddy entered the roundabout and drove the wrong way around it. Every time.
Instead we get in the Taxi. Daddy decides to “chat” to the taxi driver who therefore spends most of his time looking at Daddy’s ear lobe rather than the road. Mummy gives Daddy multiple stares but Daddy just keeps on chatting away totally unaware of the rollercoaster ride he is causing.
Seeing as we are now swerving around the road and travelling around 120 kph, the 9 and 7 year old boys think this is is 'sick' ()...They then start comparing us to racing car drivers and ask Mummy (again) which kind of car she likes best. Mummy dies a little bit inside at having been asked the same frikkin’ question 80 million times in one week. So Mummy flippantly says “I like red cars...” hoping that will send a clear signal that MUMMY DOES NOT CARE ABOUT CAR TYPES. There are some areas which are firmly Daddy’s territory.
Of course the 3 year old does not like the erratic driving and Mummy recalls the last holiday where she had to pay £200 to have the inside of a taxi cleaned out thanks to the taxi and his bumpy suspension which said 3 year old apparently didn’t like.
Mummy promptly gets out the plastic bags. Mummy and Daddy sit perched with a bag ready save themselves £200.
Mummy and Daddy get to the Air B and B and everyone is still alive.
Now, in a pre-kids world Mummy and Daddy would now drink beer by the pool and fall asleep. Instead, before they have even opened the frikkin front door to their holiday house, the kids spot the swimming pool. The 7 year old makes a run for it jumping in fully clothed.
Upon realising the pool is freezing said child then bursts into tears and wails “it’s all YOUR fault Mummy! You didn’t tell me it was cold”
Mummy looks at Daddy and says “he is 50 % yours...your turn”....so Daddy goes off with a towel to dry the little newt.
Mummy and Daddy are well aware that the next 6 days will consist of staying in the water until they are shrivelled up like prunes. So Mummy appears at the pool with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Mummy and Daddy do not exchange any words but Mummy knows Daddy is screaming “ I LOVE YOU” for bringing the wine. That’s what parenting is all about. Survival.
The next day Mummy and Daddy realise all the kids are a little bit pink as Mummy and Daddy forgot to apply any factor 50 suncream. Mummy becomes somewhat guilt ridden so slothers on so much cream that each child looks more like a snowman. The 9 year old who spends most of his life complaining Mummy is “so overprotective” retorts “Jesus Christ mummy I can’t even bend my arm the cream is so thick”. Mummy smiles and pretends she is a little bit deaf.
Mummy and Daddy now commence the joyful task of playing life guards for a week. Mummy does wonder why anyone would ever choose to be a life guard. It’s very boring
So Mummy very cleverly suggests “let’s have an ice cream” because Mummy knows you have to be outside the pool to eat ice cream. Mummy sends Daddy off to make the ice cream cones. But Daddy makes the fatal error of returning with three ice creams of different sizes. Mummy looks at Daddy with a stare of “OMFG are you insane?”
The war begins..Mummy and Daddy then find themselves in the cross fire of an argument over who has the biggest ice cream. Mummy steps in and again wonders why no one has thought of resolving the differences of Donald Trump and Kim Jong Un by sending in their Mums to put an end to their endless bickering.
The fight ends because Mummy is clutching the iPads threatening to leave them out in the sun to melt/chuck them in the swimming pool unless the bickering stops. Mummy’s plan works as there is nothing that a child of the 21st century fears more than losing his precious iPad.
Unfortunately Mummy has played the killer card within the first 2 hours of the holiday.
This is not good. This means Mummy’s arsenal of ammunition is now weakened as she has not built up to the killer card. Shit thinks Mummy. We are screwed.
By day 4 of the holiday Mummy and Daddy have taken to drinking lots of wine to help them through the day. The 3 year old has taken it upon herself to be in charge of sun cream so all the suncream has now run out. Needless to say all the plastic dolls, troll dolls and Lego men are well protected with the very expensive Factor 50.
Day 6 of the holiday and Mummy is now quiet tired and debates whether any parent finds going on holiday with 3 young kids is in any way relaxing.
Mummy is rudely awakened from her day dreaming by the cries of the 7 year old boy. The girl child has tricked him into giving her all his ice cream in exchange for a broken rubic’s cube. Mummy cannot be arsed to intervene this time so just gives everyone more ice cream. Mummy is not even sorry. #sorrynotsorry.
On the last day of the holiday the kids all seem very happy. Middle child wails “I don’t wanna go back to school next week”
Mummy and Daddy look at each other with a look of relief that only parents will know. It is nearly time for school to start again. Mummy and Daddy raise a glass to all the frikkin awesome nannies and stay at home mums who do this on a daily basis without drinking any wine.
Ps in the interests of full disclosure...we had a brilliant time 🌞🤣
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