When Is A Vacation Not A Vacation

If you know me, you know we haven’t been on a vacation since our 2012 Honeymoon.  We took the kids to Indianapolis this last summer, which barely qualifies but it was more than enough.  So, all of the following is based solely on my friends experiences, and you know…common sense.

Dear Dads,

Allow me to let you in on a little secret. Moms HATE big, elaborate family vacations. There I said it.  You’re not doing us any favors, especially if your kids are under 5. While we crying babyappreciate the sentiment, taking our kids on a road trip, plane trip, to the beach, and especially to a strange place to sleep is so much more work than it is worth to us. Simply providing entertainment and your presence does not automatically make our lives easier.  No one looks at the daddy to shut up the crying baby. Imagine if  your wife planned a trip to tour the corporate location of your company for a week. But in the week leading up to the trip you had to prepare a 5 day presentation for all the VP’s of the company.  That’s what a family vacation is like for a mom.  It’s everything awful about our everyday lives, extrapolated.

Going on a family vacation with little kids is a lot like every other day of our lives, except its ten times more work with 100 times more exhaustion.  We go to the beach.  It’s hot. There is sand EVERYWHERE!  We can only go for 45 mins at a time because of naps.  Dad passed outShe’s constantly worried about someone getting sun burned and/or drowning in the ocean.  “Did the baby shit his pants?  Did the girl just eat sand? Did I look like that skinny bitch when I was 22?” But she’s super happy for you that you got to throw the kids into the water and be a hero for ten minutes before you pounded 7 Miami Vices and passed out on a lawn chair.  yay……

And spare me the whole, “I want to create childhood memories for my kids” thing.  I am all about that, but you do realize kids remember next to nothing before the age of 5, right?  The only person who is going to remember it is your wife, and those memories will not be fond ones.  I know you feel like you’re providing some kind of memorable experience for your kids, but honestly  it doesn’t fucking matter. Do you think a 3 year old knows the different between the pool at a beach resort and the pool at the local Radisson?  Cause they don’t.

We love you for trying.  We love you for working so hard to provide such trips, and we know that is how you show us you love us. But the next time you’re thinking of getting the whole family a trip to Disney, an all-inclusive Caribbean Resort, or anywhere more than a few hours away (and any of your kids are under 5)  stop and heed my warning. Save your money, marriage, and sanity by booking a hotel on the other side of town that has a pool.  Take the kids swimming every day.  Let them eat junk food. Go to the local arcade/amusement park. Then take the kids home and let her have the hotel room to herself.  A sitter a few nights that week so you could spend some alone time together wouldn’t be a bad idea either.  But not every night….not every night.

Now, if she’s telling you that she actually enjoys listening to the kids cry for hours in the back of the car, you yelling at them, trying to anticipate every situation and need, pretending like she’s not miserable, and isn’t day dreaming about being at a Mexican swim-up bar with someone who strikingly resembles Jason Mamoa then she’s either lying to you or the Xanax has kicked in.

Jason Mamoa

 

 

Potty Training: Now That’s How You Get Pink Eye

Who doesn’t love that scene from Knocked Up where we all learned you can give all your roommates pink eye by merely bare-assed farting on their pillow?  Classic.

Pink Eye

However, I am here to tell you that living in a house full of toddlers is waaaay worse than a house full of malicious stoners.

For those of you who do not have kids, trust me when I say, potty training is by far the WORST stage of child-rearing (“you hear that, he wants to rear your child.”  Sorry, I have Knocked Up on the brain).  There is literally piss and shit everywhere.  Kinda like in college, but much less funny.  When your drunk friend shits himself in white shorts in the middle of a bar, it’s hilarious!  When your 2-year-old drops heat all over your living room floor, and your 10-month old immediately thinks, “I must put that in my mouth;” still hilarious, but only after the fact. Allow me to present exhibits A thru C.

Exhibit A: While potty training my 2 and a half-year-old daughter, she decided to go commando.  As she had pissed herself all day, I thought, “Sure, we’ll let it air out for a bit.” BTW, whoever said girls are easier to train than boys is a fucking liar!  Anyway, as we sat down to enjoy a nice dinner with a single, childless friend (I’m really surprised she’s still our friend), my daughter takes it upon herself to squat down between the ottoman and the couch and drop a couple nugs, thinking no one would notice.  At first, she was right.  We went about our grown up business and were none the wiser.  That is until I noticed my 10-month old using her turds as soccer balls.  Oh, and the smell the shit.  Needless to say, each child was immediately bathed in bleach (not really), and the entire house underwent a Lysol exorcism. I need an old priest and a young priest!!

Exhibit B: A friend of mine has 3 little boys, 3 years old and under.  She’s insane.  Her middle son is only a few weeks older than my daughter so we are currently in a 2 person support group for potty training moms.  We just send SnapChats to each other of us drinking.  Her little guy is much more “helpful” than my daughter.  While she prefers a more stealthy approach, her son likes to squeeze out a meadow muffin and share it with the house.  That’s right.  He crapped on the floor in the basement, picked it up, carried it up the stairs, dropped in on the floor of his bedroom, with a healthy plop I’m sure, then hollers down the hall, “Mommy!  I made a poop.  Come change me!”  Silver lining: he didn’t smear it all over the wall.  So, that’s a win.

Exhibit C: This one requires a little back story.  If you’ve ever seen the movie The Shawshank Redemption, you will know what I’m talking about.  If you haven’t, Spoiler Alert, also, what the hell is wrong with you?!?!  Seriously, it’s one of the greatest movies of all time.  Get your shit together. Anyway, at the end of the movie, it is revealed the protagonist, Andy, has been slowly digging his way out of his cell, and collecting the pieces in his pockets and gradually dumping them in the courtyard by cutting a hole in his pockets and shaking the pieces down his pant leg.  Do you see where this is going?

Shawshank

One day I was watching a  neighbor’s potty training son.  Let’s just say this kid and a rabbit have a lot in common, and I don’t mean carrots.  After Tommy-gunning tiny turds in his pants, he proceeds to “Shawshank” his way up my stairs.  As he is standing in front of me, I notice a black ball by his feet.  I immediately run him to the bathroom, ass debris falling out of his pant leg the whole way.  Thanks to his apparently GI issues, the clean up was fairly easy.  That is until my germaphobic son comes upstairs with a handful of ‘marbles.” He still hasn’t stopped washing his hands.

When you have this much shit in your house, there are bound to be poo particles everywhere.  It would be a miracle if everyone made it out pink eye free. So, the next time you go to a 2-year-old’s birthday party, don’t waste your money at Toys-R-Us. Instead, might I suggest a Stanley Steamer gift card.

 

 

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