It’s been nearly two years since our last holiday. My skin is an attractive shade of pale and the nearest I’ve been to a beach is the sandpit at the local park. I’m in desperate need of a holiday but to say I’m apprehensive is an understatement.
While I love a week in the sun as much as the next person I’m always a little anxious as the date approaches. My to do list doubles in size and the pressure of orchestrating a successful journey is enough to make anyone nervous. As if it wasn’t stressful already, add a demanding toddler to the mix and you’ve got yourself a recipe for disaster.
I’m under no illusion that holidaying with a toddler will be whole different experience. Gone are days of worshiping the sun and drinking cocktails until the early hours. This year will be all about factor 50 suncream and trying to force feed the child anything but ice-cream. That said I think I’ll class it as a successful trip if we make it past customs!
Don’t wake the baby.
Early morning flights have always been my favourite. The excitement of waking up in the middle of night, browsing the duty free when you should be asleep and drinking alcohol with your breakfast because…well because you’re on holiday! But this year breakfast and a browse round the cosmetics will be the last thing on my mind. With a 6am flight, I’ve got to somehow strategically transfer a sleeping tot into the car at around 2am. There’s a zero percent chance of him staying asleep and a 50% chance he’ll then scream for the next 5 hours.
I’m the woman with the mardy child.
Should the journey to the airport go completely tits up, then we will need to ready ourselves for one very mardy toddler. Like his father, Rory isn’t always the cheeriest in the morning. I suspect he will be even less cheery when we shunt him onto an aeroplane and strap him to my lap. I’m mentally prepared to be the woman on the plane that everyone hates. The one they all look at like I’m carrying Malaria, instead of an irate child who’s hangry and tired.
Where’s the pissin pushchair?
Arriving at your destination should be a cause for celebration but for me it’s one of the most stressful times. After spending at least half an hour fighting my way off the plane I was so desperate to board three hours earlier, I’m always dying for the loo. But there’s no time to stop as you follow the herd of tourists to baggage claims. The agonising wait for the conveyor belt to start seems to take forever. Everyone gathers round almost in prayer, like your will power alone will make your luggage appear. I’ll be honest as soon as I see my suitcase I couldn’t give a hoot about anyone else. The cloud lifts and I’m officially on holiday….but not this year. No this year I have to deal with baggage nerves and pushchair tension. You can bet if anythings going to go wrong, Rory’s pushchair will end up in Taiwan!
I’ll just read my book for 0.2 seconds.
I have very low expectations of how much time I’ll get to spend reading this holiday. So much so that I’ve bought a grand total of one book. I know that could potentially be pushing it but considering we’re holidaying with the majority of our family (nanny, grandad, great aunts and uncles) I’m hoping at least one of them will entertain my child long enough for me not read the same sentence six times.
Full English? Don’t mind if I…share it with you.
The definition of the word holiday is to over indulge on everything (fun, sun, food and wine), well it is in my dictionary anyway. But as always I’m a realist. It doesn’t matter which time zone I’m in, while ever my toddler is in tow his slimy little mits will be all over my grub.
Later nights and even earlier mornings.
During pregnancy I was adamant on implementing a bedtime routine as soon as possible. While it isn’t everyone’s parenting preference, it’s something which works really well for us. I know a holiday shouldn’t be a cause for concern I can’t help wondering what the lack of routine will do to Rory’s body clock. The late nights are sure to catch up with him eventually but no doubt it’ll happen just after we arrive home.
Anxieties aside, I really can’t wait to get on that plane. I’m sure it will be a fantastical disaster, full of terrible toddler meltdowns and memories that will last a lifetime. If any of you adept parents have any tactical advice I’m all ears!
If you’ve got a sec, please leave us a comment because we’d love to know what you thought!