All throughout this disgusting Auckland winter I have been HANGING out for our family holiday to Fiji. Fiji was the light at the end of the tunnel, the only thing propelling me forward as I negotiated my way through the trenches of Groundhog Day on repeat.
And I did have an amazing holiday, don’t get me wrong. I could tell you everything I loved about it; the seven days of constant sunshine, the swim-up bar, the beautiful Fijian babysitters – but that would be a boring read and you’d probably hate me for rubbing it in your face.
DISCLAIMER: I had a great holiday and I’m not an ungrateful cow. And I wouldn’t give back my children. However:
About halfway through the holiday when I was dealing with a runny poo in the swimming nappy (seriously those things have no absorption whatsover!!!@@@#) it struck me how much holiday’s have changed. Oh how much they have changed!!!!!
Firstly, the location and resort is now chosen for kid-friendliness and proximity to the airport. I no longer spend hours researching secluded locations on a quest to source the whitest sands and clearest waters. Instead I need to ensure any prospects have apartment size rooms with a microwave, two highchairs and two cots. It doesn’t matter if the beach is shit – what if one of the little tikes gets sick? How easy is it to see a doctor and where is the nearest hospital?? Thank goodness we went to the Maldives when we did as I’m sure as hell never going anywhere like that again!!!!! #nomorebeautyinmylife
No more packing the night before. It’s a week in advance. At least. I’m not a list-making kind of girl, but let me tell you, there were lists, upon lists, upon lists.
Sex. Ummmm no. That’s how this shit got started!!! Plus, even if I wanted to, there’s usually a small child lying in the middle of the bed with a foot between my legs. Yep, you can give up on sleep as well as sex because neither of them happen on holiday.
A book!!!???? You can FORGET it. Need I say more.
Instead of sleeping in and missing the buffet breakfast, I’m now banging the door down at 6.30am STARVING because I’ve been up for hours. The sad thing about this is that I’m not the only one, and I still have to wait my turn for the highchairs.
String Bikinis are a thing of the past. These bad boys need straps and wire baby! Support takes on a new meaning. Let’s just say that the tennis-ball-in-a-sock analogy is true. Unfortunately.
The plane ride. I can’t even bring myself to describe how much this has changed. Longest three hours of my life.
P.S. Seriously – how hard is it getting water-wings on a fit-throwing toddler!!! Unbelievable.