The final straw

You know when you get to the point where you declare no more taking our crazy kids out to eat anymore? Well, we’re not there yet; mostly because we’re lazy and we like good food. But I think we’ve reached the point were we can say, with certainty, no more making Willy’s work trips into family trips. Because, dammit, it’s hard. 
It always starts out by sounding good in theory; a few days away as a family, promises of exploring the desert, spontaneous trips to the Salton Sea. It’s been fun, it really has. But allow me to speak the truth: it’s fucking hard.  
For one, we only have one car. So when Willy takes off for meetings (I mean let’s not forget that this is the primary reason we’re there), it leaves us stranded. In the past we’ve hung out at the pool and it’s been fine. But now… Now we have Jimmie. And, well, only the legally insane can handle two dependent kids in the pool and a high pitched barking pup who hates to be separated (aka tied up) even a few feet away from his people. Walking around downtown – in 112 degree heat – is the other alternative and Jimmie sucks on a leash and the heat eats all of my patience before I can even say hold hands to cross the street, please.
This time around, we got asked to leave the pool by the management who had received “complaints” about the “barking” dog. I wanted to cry. The amount of time it took me to hold my children against their will and slap sunscreen on them and go to the bathroom and put their swim trunks and shoes on far exceeded the 5 to 10 minutes they splashed around in the water. If only I would have had someone to complain to because dammit, I swear it was worse for me than it was for whoever had to hear it.
And that’s not even the half of it. Sometimes I feel like the little lone home wife who gets repeatedly told by her husband to keep their kids (their TWO and THREE) year old kids quiet while he fields important work calls. In a hotel room with an 8 month old energized pup? Willy looks at me with that pleading face and I want to look at him like he’s fucking insane if he thinks I have superpowers. There aren’t enough lollipops in the world to shove in those kids mouths to keep them quiet for the amount of time necessary. And it puts us all on edge.
This was our first trip with Jimmie and I voted him whatever the opposite of MVP is; perhaps there should be a LVP (least valuable player). He refused to pee on the nice balcony area we had and instead peed on the carpet at least three times.
I’m starting to feel like I’m whining so I’ll stop this rant here and end by saying we will no longer be joining Willy on his work trips. Not for a while, anyway. And by “for a while”, I mean until we can forget how hard and horrible it can be.
And yes, I let the kids play with the bidet because I had had it. Playing with dirty toilet water is now my new low. Make note of it.

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4 Responses

  • Um, yeah, I’m not even sure I could handle just the dog, let alone the dog and 2 toddlers with minds of their own. I’m happy you came to this realization, at least for now. I have no idea how single moms do it 24/7. I bow down.

  • Insane-dog-that-won’t-walk-nicely-on-a-leash-tip: i hate saying the name because it sounds supremely stupid, and I was skeptical at first, but the Gentle Leader is a game changer. Pups be crazy.

  • Oh honey. I’ve been so impressed with your ability to handle two kids and a dog in one hotel room. Nicely done. Not much more to say than: solidarity. You are not alone. And I would totally have let my kids knock themselves out with the bidet. Rock on.

  • Well done. Do you ever just pause and say “this is too much for 1 set of hands?”

    This is no small feat…little boys and small spaces is NOT an easy combination. Plus a dog!? High fives from your fave Canadian Fan and MOB (mum of boys)!

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