After being confined to the parameters of our humble home for nearly four months (after recovering from the birth of our third baby – approximately 8 weeks until I started to feel ‘normal’ again, then our family’s uncanny ability to share colds for another 8 weeks – each taking turns being sick in different combinations and with varying mutations of the viruses floating about) we decided it was time to have a holiday. Great in theory, then realising we now have 3 kids under the age of 4 years, and a depressed dog that desperately needed some fresh air and space to move, finding where to go became a task in itself. But we did it, found a lovely place that is dog friendly, not far to drive, not too pricey, and they had a vacancy…during the school holidays (and whilst we don’t yet have school aged kids it meant we didn’t need to avoid preschool days and swimming class times, or wait any longer for our holiday!).
Miss 3 helped me pack the ten bags we would require for the next two nights away on our holidays. It was an arduous task requiring a lengthy whiteboard list, nifty folding to fit the maximum amount of clothing in each bag, careful studying of the weather charts to determine what clothes we would need to pack, much thought about activities we would likely do and what was required for these activities, nappies, more nappies, and of course the prized plush toys our daughters have for sleep time. We dare not forget to pack TedTe and Penga! At least we could now narrow the toys down to a favourite few. Holidaying with out first child we fell into the trap of packing several toys just in case she needed the flashing flower toy to distract her from a bout of crying, or the fluffy bunny she loved to hold, or the dolly she liked to push about in it’s dolly-sized pram, or the book with the cat she loves so much. No, a toy each, a book each, some pencils and paper, nothing more, nothing less. After all, we have the wilderness to explore! Oh and then there was of course clothes for my husband and I as well as what our dog required, a leash and drinking bowl.
The morning we needed to leave, as has it when you plan things out as a parent, one of us was unwell…me! But I’m tough, I’ve had three Caesars, I can handle a sore throat in a log cabin no problems. So stuffing our regular sized car full of bags, food, kids and a dog, we set off on our next adventure. After 45 minutes of driving my husband asks me how far away this place is. “Oh, just two hours,” I reply as I read him the directions emailed to us from the holiday stay. Two and a half hours later, after car stops for nappy changes and feeding, we finally come to a bumpy dirt road. This is it! …..We distract the kids from their portable DVD player. “Look at the cows!”, we gasp excitedly as city folk do when visiting the countryside. The girls hardly look up. The road is so bumpy we have to slow the pace right down. “Ahhhhhhhhh!” the girls notice the change and begin to giggle as their voices waver from the vibrations of the car as it trembles along the rocky road. Another 15 minutes and we are there!
As we drive up to our log cabin I notice how small is it. ‘How are we going to fit into that!’ I ponder to myself. Then we we get inside and I realise it isn’t exactly what was described to me over the phone. The living space was so small it could be confused with a a large cardboard box, the floors were lino, sticking to our shoes as we ventured inside, the bathroom looked like something you might find on a Navy vessel, no bath, just a tiny shower so close to the loo your knees hit the shower curtain when sitting on said loo, and finally the beds, all really close, squished in against the walls. I breathe deeply. “Two nights,” I tell myself.
We did our best to make the most of our holiday regardless of the crappy accommodation. We were together, my husband free from work commitments for the next two days, and the outdoor scenery really was beautiful. We packed our days with river walks, canoeing, watching our dog race around like she was on some type of hallucinogens and star gazing. It only took us about an hour and a half each morning to actually get out of the cabin, all kids dressed, fed and sun-blocked up, and the girls only screamed for about two hours every day as they became increasingly overtired as it was too exciting to nap and bed time became much later. And whilst we still did some cleaning as we were too scared to leave the place in anything but immaculate condition after reading the guest folder that quoted fees for leaving the dwelling untidy ($10 for a dirty spoon! Come on!), at least we didn’t need to cook dinner as there was a dog friendly restaurant onsite. No way I was going to let a couple of overtired kids get in the way of a meal I didn’t need to prepare or clean up. We were the first to eat each night and even though the food wasn’t overly delicious, it was comforting and everything tastes better when you don’t have to cook it.
My husband and I learnt how to balance having three young kids on holidays and a dog, taking turns looking after different combinations depending on the activity and feeding schedule of our baby. This meant that on the last night of our holiday I was breastfeeding out baby whilst my husband took our girls to look at the stars. I relaxed into the overly squishy plastic couch that sank beneath me and realised I could watch television. Not kids television, but adult television. Don’t get ahead of yourself here, I don’t mean anything dirty by that, just like the news or whatever reality or soap episode was playing. We only had about four channels available on a tiny box of a television but it was nice to think I could actually chose what program to watch whilst my baby suckled quietly. And after Miss 2’s screaming episodes from that afternoon, now overtired from a third day without a nap, the quiet was a nice relaxing change. I smiled as I realised how lucky I am to have a husband who is such an amazing father to our kids. He had taken the girls canoeing earlier that day whilst I watched on with our baby in my arms, he had led the way on all our walks, pointing out creatures and funny shaped rocks to our kids as he taught them how wonderful nature is, and now he was taking them to look at the stars. He had thought ahead, bought aero-guard, gotten a picnic rug and made sure the girls were dressed warmly. But after a few minutes they were back. My husband looked at me as the girls raced in, he shook his head. “What happened, the girls were looking forward to seeing the stars?” I questioned. He shrugged, “They got scared”. Didn’t surprise me, I can hold out a piece of cotton, declare its a spider and have them run away screaming. Later he gave me more information. They were lying on the rug looking at the stars, but with a tree obstructing their view my husband tried to move the rug across with the girls still on it. That was too much for them, a moving rug in the dark!
The next day we packed the car and went for one final walk along the river. Both girls stumbled and got soaked so we had a quick outfit change, a bite to eat and headed on home. This time the girls took notice of the farm animals we passed, the chocolate milk cows, the caramel milk cows, the horses and so on. We even stopped to look in awe at a large camel as it munched lazily on tall grass. Then our Mr 4 month old started to cry. He cried, and cried and cried…..and cried. We stopped on the dirt road and then on the free-way a dozen times times to offer milk, nappy change, a lullaby, but to no avail. He cried for the entire three hour trip. By the time we reached our suburb my husband and I were so relieved we looked at each-other and smiled. We were back from our holiday. Now we just needed a holiday from our holiday!
Unloading the car that evening I counted the loads of laundry needing to be done, eyed off the mail needing to be tended to , and looked around the house at all the little jobs needing to be done. But our home seemed much bigger now, the small confines I had been so desperate to escape as we had all been going stir crazy, now seemed so appealing and luxurious. And that night as we lay in our comfy bed, happy to have had some quality time together as a family and happy to be home again, we discussed the logistics of our next holiday. Perhaps Mr 4 month old needs to be a bit older, and perhaps he just needs to like the car! Or at least be able to tolerate it. And perhaps we should book something a bit more 5 star and even closer to home. But most importantly we know we need to make the most of any time we have together without distraction as that is truly what the best kind of holiday is.
Where did you go on your last family holiday? Was it really a holiday or did you need a holiday from your holiday? I would love to hear your stories!
When our son was about 10 years old and we lived in Minnesota, we took a road trip to see my parents in Oregon, a trip of about 1,700 miles. They lived outside a small town on 30 acres, most of which was wooded with second growth trees. Throughout the property were huge stumps, a 1800’s. In order to build their small cottage when my parents moved reminder of the lumber industry when the land was first settled in the there in the early 60’s, some stumps had to be cleared, a common activity in that area when farmers and settlers needed to clear some land. All it required at that time was a trip to the county offices to get a permit to buy dynamite and other accoutrements to the work of blasting out stumps. Dad kept a good supply of all this on hand for many years including blasting caps.
On this trip which was around 1975, my brother came up to visit from California while we were there, and one of the first things we asked Dad was, “Do you have any stumps you want blasted?” He did, of course, as their 30 acres contained no shortage of these stumps two and three feet in diameter. So, we three “boys” chose our stump and set to work. My brother is a mining engineer and had been trained in the use of explosives, so he led the activity.
It requires a blasting cap to set off dynamite, and while the proper method is to use an electrical spark to set off the cap, the explosive in the cap is also very sensitive to shock and thus requires careful handling. It is powerful enough to maim or blind of miss-handled. Suffice to say, after a couple days work, the stump was gone, and my son and I thought it had been a great experience and lots of fun.
On the trip home, we happened to notice that our son had a paper bag with stuff in it with which he was unusually preoccupied. We pulled over and I asked what was in the bag. He didn’t want to answer so I took it an opened it. To my horror, it contained a handful of blasting caps! We were almost home, so I took possession of the bag and continued on home. Soon as we arrived I called the police, explained our situation, and they came out to take possession of the caps and gave our son a bit of a scolding. It was certainly a vacation to remember.
Hi Tom,
That sounds like an amazing holiday, although if I had found my children harbouring a bad of potential explosives I would have shit my pants! It certainly makes for a very memorable time and my husband and I were smiling as we read about your family holiday.
Thank you for your kind comment on the photo. It was taken by a river at a holiday park near Newcastle.
Mummy Minute, xo
Love the picture of father and daughter wading in a river. Where was that?
I would never ever have thought there was another name for a pacifier other than “pacifier.” I guess we tend to live in an insular world. Reading your delightful and well written blog brings a smile to my lips. Keep them coming.