Vacation for whom?

You know you're in trouble when you know you're going to need a vacation from your vacation even before your vacation begins. Frankly, I'm kidding myself and everyone around me when I use the word "vacation" in connection with this weekend. What M and I had once, briefly, fleetingly envisioned as a weekend away alone.. has turned (in terms of planning and coordination) into the Yalta Summit of weekend trips. (I can remember exactly where we were when we fantasized about getting away alone. In the car. Date night. On the way to the movies, most likely. But given that I haven't peed alone in 8 years, a few nights away was really too much to ask.)

So, we're all flying out of Seattle. "Dropping off" the boys in Denver with the in-laws and taking the two girls to Boston for a wedding weekend... and picking them up on the way home. I'm sure it will all be loads of fun, but right now I'm packing.. for two destinations... and feeling like it might have been easier just to all go together, even if it does mean sharing a bed with several small beings. (Consequently, the big winners in all of this are the boys who get a weekend with grandparents and zero parental supervision.)

So, here I am... contemplating the vacation I'm going to need next week to recover from this one. I'm not trying to be whiny. I've done all sorts of travel with the kids. But traveling anywhere (even the supermarket) with an 18 month old requires more patience that I was born with, and I still can't get that fantasy of several restful child-free nights out of my mind. Luckily, spring in Seattle is complete crap, and the thought of 70 degree weather is more than appealing. M reminds me that I always get cold travel feet on the night before a trip, and this is just that. I'm sure of it. Right?

Mum's the Word.

I knew I was in a spot of trouble when I woke up on Mother's Day morning crammed into a Portland, OR hotel room with all four kids. Breakfast in bed turned out to be the free, rather lousy breakfast in the lobby of the hotel. I contemplated grabbing some food and stealing away, but the thought of ambling down the long corridor with a boiled egg, a paper bowl full of Cheerios and a cup of hotel coffee didn't really appeal. And while I'm a fan (in theory) of local presses, breakfast in bed with the Sunday edition of The Oregonian didn't do it for me either.

We managed to salvage breakfast and spent a lovely day (as we did the weekend) with M's family. And then, because we apparently can't get enough together time, we capped the day off by driving back to Seattle. And getting stuck in traffic. Lots of it. There's nothing like a 4 plus hour car drive to scream, "Happy Mother's Day." Sucker.

So, when a friend told me that in a recent poll, what most mothers want most for M Day is to be left the hell alone for a few hours, I wasn't at all surprised. Granted, I'd feel somewhat guilty, and maybe even (dare I say it?) lonely if I spent all day alone, I would be just fine with a few hours, or even half the day off. I got so little time alone that I took to hiding in bathrooms, ignoring the pleas, knocks and bangings of little hands.

One of the kids asked, "When do we get Kids' Day?" And then I explained that the reason we have Mother's Day is b/c every bloody day is Kids' Day and this was his big chance to thank me. And I suspect they get it. Cute, homemade gifts came my way. And I could see them actually trying to be good. The boys scratched each other without breaking skin, I could swear that somebody asked me to open the car window before he farted, and a certain three year old gave me the invaluable gift of a long car journey without a single puke break. All very considerate.

As for the several hours spent in my own company, I'll know better for next year.

Pour some sugar on this...

My pediatrician swears that sugar does not create hyperactivity in children, and while the caffeine in chocolate can act as a stimulant, regular candy - the chocolate-free kind - will not stimulate. Next time Mr. B pours a packet of Mike and Ikes into his waiting mouth and then, within seconds, turns from a crazy 8 year old into a bloody lunatic 8 year old, I must remember to whip out my Flip and take notes. Next time.

On Sunday we were at a candy-filled event. We've been before and while I no longer hover over the kids and monitor how much crap they're shoveling into their little faces, I can't relax until the event is over and we're home, miles away from the green drool of Laffy Taffy Land. This year the boys went nuts again. Every time I looked over at them they were shoveling more in, and while it seemed to me that other kids were taking breaks, breathers if you will, in between feedings, for my boys, it was one long binge. (I do admit that my objectivity may have been blurred by several trips to the fondue station.)

So, I asked myself: If I let my kids eat candy all day every day, and had it pouring out of the faucets of the house, would they behave differently? A year ago, I might have thought so. But when I had the same experience, at the same event, this time last year, I decided to ease up and allow the sweet stuff in now and then. One year later, and I'm not sure I made the right decision. Bennett was still standing on top of a climbing structure pouring liquid candy (I kid you not) into his face while Efram might have set the world record for feet of Laffy Taffy squeezed into the mouth of a 6 year old.

So, I suppose all this begs the question - how on earth do I get my kids to self regulate? I suppose when I can limit my own trips to the fondue station to the single digits, I may have an answer.