Just So You Don't Think Life is Rosey All The Time

I wrote this a couple of months ago. It's interesting to me how much I've learned as a parent since this happened. Anyway, it serves as a reminder that I too am forever learning and evolving.

***A Road Trip Fail***

At some point last week I decided that it might be exciting to drive up to Auckland to go to the David Gray concert. With the kids. There one day, back the next. In my mind it went like this.

We get up in the morning, put all of the strategically next-to-the-front-door placed bags in the car, pour our green smoothies into our bottles, glide into our car seats and drive off with pleasant music playing on the radio. At some point in the not too distant future we would arrive in Auckland, just emerging from the post-waking-up fog, and spend a nice afternoon there before meeting a friend for dinner and all going to the concert. The children would sit through the entire concert, mesmorised by how marvellous musicians are and how awesome their papa’s job is. Then we would quietly walk back to the swanky hotel room and fall asleep in a gigantic bed and wake up at about 10am the next morning pleading ignorance to normal check-out times.

Then we would do the entire sublime and peaceful journey in reverse with the only deviation being a trip to the AC Baths in Taupo on the way home.

In reality, this happened.

One o'clock on the morning of departure Louis wakes up and says in a very loud and clear voice, “Mama, I’m going to spew.” And I equally loudly and calmly say, “Go down to the toilet then”. He made it to 30cm away from the toilet. Not bad. Then I spent the rest of the night on “vomit watch”. Joss woke up at 6 and was pretty determined in getting her point across that it was time to get up. Joss and I had our smoothies, sitting at the table, driving nowhere. And it was cold. And it was still dark outside. 

Louis eventually woke up a particularly wan shade of grey and said, hopefully, “is it time to go now, Mama?” At this point I should have realised that the universe was trying to tell me something, right? I should have just got my big-girl pants on and said, “No, honey, I’m sorry we can’t go.” But I waaaaannnnnttttteeeedddd to. I was actually whining, to myself, in my head, saying that.

Let me break in here with an aside. I, in the past, have been fairly judgemental of people who just don’t let their kids stay home and rest when they’re sick. I’m sorry, ok? Karma came back and bit me. Somewhere.

So, at about 11am , after my kids had already watched 2 hours of tv with me peering at them to see if there was anymore vomiting-like things going on. And there weren’t, so I threw everything in the car and took off. I got to the service station and realised I’d forgotten my first aid remedy kit. Going on a long distance road trip with a spewey 5 year old with no remedies was one step too far, so I turned around and drove back. At THIS point, really, I should have just stayed home. But I didn’t. Have I mentioned my mother calls me stubborn? So, take two, we leave home. And before we’ve left city limits my daughter has fallen asleep and my son is watching a movie on his father’s old disabled phone. Peace. Which lasts for about 30 mins. And, lets just say I think I averaged one stop every 40 minutes. We changed seats, we peed, we pooped (or at least the 2-year-old did) on the side of the road (sorry Matamata), we sorted out possession not necessarily being nine-tenths of the law on deciding what we’re watching, we did just about everything we could to arrive in Auckland exactly on time for rush hour.  It was uncanny.

But the concert? I hear you ask – was the concert fabulous? I’m sure it was but to be honest, the angelic children had had just about enough sitting in seats for the day and preferred using the seats as climbing frames and laughing at all the people sitting behind us when their faces went orange from the light show. It was too much. I’m sure I was getting dirty looks from my fellow audience members, and also convinced that David Gray was in that moment convinced to get a vasectomy.

So we went home, just as my favourite David Gray song was coming on.

Well, we went back to the hotel room, which did in fact have a gigantic bed, which we all fitted in, and slept well in, and are now convinced that that’s exactly what we need at home.

Do you know what was missing in the hotel room? Coffee. Do you know what I sound like without coffee? Here I’ll give you an example (minus the f-bombs I dropped in there – I’m sure you will be able to supplement them back in if you wish) “I am sick of the fighting about the …phone! Give me the …phone. Nobody is watching anything AT ALL, the WHOLE WAY HOME!” And that was before we got to the Bombay Hills.

Aaaaah, the paradise that is parenthood.

We did make it home in one piece, we did make it to the AC Baths, and I did manage to listen to my current favourite album on my phone while the children did battle in the back seat about who’s turn it was to hold the phone. (No, I did not hold full my threat of no one watching the phone. Bad Mama.) Today, I would like to thank Mr Apple-Phone-Ear-buds designer for making ear-buds that drown out toddler-wars going on in the back seat. You got me through.