Here is my angelic little prince on vacation:
I'm here to say I shouldn't have sold my soul to the devil for that "One last blizzard" while pregnant with him because he chose this trip to claim his spawn. Well played devil, well played. I lay my golden fiddle down because I know I have been beat.
This is how the vacation went in my head: the monkey, prince and I would go have yummy pancakes to gear up for our fun filled day, play at the beach, go back to the hotel for naps and well deserved mommy reading time, have more yummy food, perhaps hit some shops while they calmly sit in the stroller, play a little more, meet daddy for dinner (who was on a work trip), read stories and go straight to sleep. Ah, sweet vacation bliss.
This is how the actual vacation went: after paying $6 each for my children to get hopped up on peanut butter & overflowing jelly sandwiches and tater tots (dear lord, please forgive me for how I feed my children. And I pray forgiveness from the monkey for feeding her brother things she had to wait three years to taste. And while I'm at it, I pray for a new car that fits the monkey, prince, husband and grandparents who are flying half way across the country to see them. Amen.) Return to hotel room, get everyone ready for bed and commence the longest crying spell in human history. Seriously, I should call Ripley's. Cue all surrounding rooms calling down to front desk demanding we be evicted from the premises. Finally drive the prince around foreign city braless, licenseless and glassesless. Finally get him to sleep only to have him wake up again as soon as the engine stops. Call uncle, put back in hotel and return to longest crying spree part two. Go to sleep around midnight when he finally gives up but decides he is rising with the sun. Thank gawd for hotel coffee machines. I would have drank black tar and liked it. In fact, I might have for all I know. Go to work breakfast with daddy only to have the monkey ditch us to go eat pancakes with co-workers (did she not pay attention to my vacation plans at all? Pancakes were in my version!). Try to go back to hotel for naps but the joke is on me. There will be no sleeping evah! Bribe them with bubbles and beach toys. Grab a sandwiches at local shop just to have strangers comment on how cute and well behaved they are. Stare in dumbfound disbelief, smile politely and slowly back out of the door before they figure out they have been fooled. Go ride carousel only to have the monkey tell me, and I quote "get off mommy! I want to go by myself!" Mind you she was on an animal by herself and the prince and I were on a separate animal behind her. Apparently it was the teenage version of the devil chose to possessed her. Fan-tastic! Bribe more with ice cream and head back to beach. After what might possibly been the longest wait for dinner ever encountered, which the prince refused to eat (What is this woman? There isn't a tater in sight!) head back to hotel for - you guessed it - world's longest cryfest part 3. This is the point where I chose to enter vacation mental psychosis and black out for the rest of vacation to preserve what is (arguably) left of my sanity.
So here is how I choose to remember this blissful sugared up pre-detox vacation:
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