Lifestyle, Popular Stuff, Travel

The brutal reality of holidaying with kids

Monty by Monty
July 9th, 2018

I’ve been hanging for the school holidays to roll around for months so we could get away for a couple of weeks and have a break from the daily shit that starts to grind my gears.  As I type this I am indeed away on a vacay, watching the sun set over some stunning sugar cane fields after a day spent jumping in and out of the pool. It sounds like total bliss, doesn’t it? A great escape from the 9 degrees at home and a welcome pivot to the repeated daily schedule. The only thing is… MY KIDS ARE HERE!!!

For some reason I look back on every  family holiday with rose coloured classes; I remember stuff like the kids giggling and running along the beach with blissful freedom and content while I read book after book and sip on cocktails while gobbling down shelled prawns. I’m not sure how that stuff makes its way into my memories, ’cause that shit ain’t ever happened!

Boys in our bed

Even though my current view is top notch, the sun has been shining brightly all day and I have been submerged in large bodies of water, I am fucking exhausted. My kids are literally yelling at me for MORE attention for the 611th time this hour, I have looked at the view on hand for a real 0.2 of a second before a tiny human requests I join them in the pool, or make them another fucking snack. I am sleeping in blocks of 20 minutes before I get a foot in the groin from one of my offspring, insisting they are too scared to sleep in the other room that is literally 30cms from ours.

I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I just wanna get the fuck home. Holidays with young kids blow. Of course there is the odd sprinkling of fun thrown in the mix but the reality is that it’s the same shit in a different location, just with less of your necessities for survival around you.

For some reason I was picturing on this holiday that my 6 and 3 year old would just suddenly become self-sufficient by wiping their own arses, showering themselves and fixing their own lunches. WHAT A FUCKING IDIOT!

I know when I get back to the harsh reality of home in freezing Melbourne, where my nipples will be on a constant hard-on while I rush around like a lunatic to get kids to activities and school on time, I’ll rip out the rose coloured glasses and crave the sugar canes swaying in the balmy wind – but please remind me NOT to book another holiday for at least a good ten years because FUCK MEEEEEEEE!!!!

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