As a Mother, the word “vacation” has taken on a new meaning.  My husband and I took our four children on “vacation” to Florida this week, and although we’ve enjoyed our time immensely, I don’t think that “vacation” is the proper descriptive word to use when referring to our time away from home.  Let me break it down for you:

  • Any Mom who has ever travelled anywhere with any amount of children knows how much packing and preparation is involved. The sheer amount of energy required to get four children and two adults ready to leave for 10 days is ridiculous.  Making a list and checking it twice (errrr, 10 times) and still being certain that you’ve forgot something and will only realize as your plane is taking off is stressful as hell.  Can you say ANXIETY???  It’s fucking exhausting, and the “vacation” hasn’t even begun at this point.  Mothers require a vacation from their vacation before even leaving for their vacation.  That’s some messed up shit.
  • The Sunday before we left the clocks changed back an hour and we “gained” an hour of sleep….or in our case, our 11 month old baby is now waking up between 4:45-5:00am EVERY.   DAY.  I have tried to keep him up a little longer at night in an attempt to adjust his wake up time to be a little more humanly acceptable, but he’s not having it.  No matter what time he goes to bed at night, he’s up before 5am…and not just awake and happy to lay in bed with us or play quietly on the floor by himself…awake and determined to make sure that every other person who happens to be within one block of his home hears him and wakes up too.  Of course he’s not affected by any of this because he still takes two naps a day, so he’s happy as a pig in shit, but everyone else in our household is tired and cranky…which is a recipe for disaster when we’re all cooped up in the same house for 10 days and no one is leaving for work or school or daycare. My two older girls are like little mini hot messes and the “time outs” I’m giving them are not enough to shake the cranky out of them.
  • We stayed at my in-laws house the night before our flight because they live about 40 minutes from the airport. It was an early morning flight, so we got everyone up and ready to go and left their house around 6:30 in the morning, which should have been plenty of time for us to get to the airport….except it wasn’t. Two separate car accidents on the highway that morning as well as construction that had a four lane highway reduced to two lanes turned a 40 minute drive into a 2.5hour drive.  As our departure time crept closer and closer my husband and I became more and more concerned.  When we finally arrived we ran frantically through the airport with our four kids and we could hear the announcement “Last call for Georgiev, Party of 6”. We ended up arriving at the gate in just enough time to board our plane before it left four kids and six bags in tow.  WINE PLEASE!!
  • I decided, in my wisdom, that this was going to be a good week to potty train my 2.5 year old. The fact that both my husband and I would be here to facilitate the process as well as the fact that we would be outside near a pool and any accident would fall onto the patio floor instead of onto an expensive carpet seemed like it was the best plan of attack.  Although it has been a relatively successful potty training attempt, there have obviously been a few accidents here and there, which means a heck of a lot of laundry for mommy and lots of extra messes to clean up.  It never fails, just as I have put my youngest for his nap and I think that I might have a minute to sit and enjoy the pool, or have a quick nap, or write this blog, my two year old has an explosive bowel movement and is somehow covered from head to toe in shit, and by the time I have her all cleaned up as well as the collateral damage that managed to get covered in shit during the cleanup process, my youngest has woken up and is again ready to party again.  SUPER FUN!  Cheers from sunny Florida.

xo Michelle


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