Vacation Confessions (Day 1)

Dear CT,

I’m writing home to tell you how my husband and the 3 kids are doing since we left.  You know, all of 7 hours ago.   Has it only been that long?

Here are some things I learned so far:

1. If you try to make a giant leak-proof ice pack using a sealable bag, the bag will definitely have a hole in it and will leak out of your soft-cooler and onto your purse.
2. You should make a packing list.  Or you’ll forget something important like your toothbrush and have to choose between the equally nerve-wracking options of not brushing your teeth at all or borrowing your husband’s brush.  (Although, he reminded me I accidentally use his often enough.)
3. If you ask your children “what do we talk like when we’re in the car?” your three year old will say “batman” and you’ll find yourself role playing a scenario in which batman politely asks your husband to stop singing so loudly, because NICE and QUIET are how we talk in the car…  Except A) no one is buying your batman, B) your husband doesn’t sing period and C) Not even you are taking yourself seriously.
4. Hotels are not made for sleeping.  And I don’t mean that as innuendo.  Hotels are like a cruel social experiment where each child strategically pushes you closer to the brink of the abyss.  One of your children will only mildly complain that they can’t sleep.  You will lightly scold.  A second will ramp up the complaining by 90%, only to finally stop flopping and talking awkwardly to himself when you promise a prize to the first kid who falls asleep.  (This idea came from the same part of your brain as the batman charade.  This will come back to haunt you.)  A third child won’t fall asleep even after you threaten to take away the hotel’s free waffle breakfast, suggest that he might make his Mimi cry, and begin to walk him back to the van for a “timeout” at 10:15pm.  (Who are you really punishing there?)  Halfway down the hall he’ll promise to sleep and will somehow finagle his way into nesting on a chair with a towel for a blanket.  Suit yourself, kid.
5. “The Edge of Glory” is apparently sung by Lady Gaga, not Pink.  Who Knew?  (I don’t want a show of hands, I’m sure lots of you knew.)
6. Blogging makes everything better.

That’s all for now.  All I can say is, the waffle machine better be working tomorrow…I’ll be in touch shortly….hopefully from an awesome beach view.

Sincerely,

Vacationing (But not sleeping) Carrye