Vacation Getaway From Me

Are you there, readers? It’s me, Mrs. Tittle-Tattle. Once again, summer has flown. But at least we can look back at some nice vacation time. Well, sort of. Mrs. Tittle-Tattle is not a huge fan of family travel because it’s actually more work for me. That’s why honest parents call them “trips.” Vacations mean days spent reading on the beach and sipping piña coladas. Trips connote a journey of some kind, and not necessarily a fun one, like exploring the Grand Canyon of family dysfunction.
    Now, I know I should be grateful that I can travel to nice places, and family trips are supposed to be an opportunity to connect with loved ones, but frequently these excursions make me seriously doubt my life choices. First there’s the issue of the kids. Very young children need a lot of attention and don’t do well at restaurants. When the kids were little, the only one who got a legitimate week off was our nanny. Well, my husband was also in vacation mode regardless of parental demands, which made me even more apoplectic.
     You can imagine my excitement when the children became old enough for resort camp. That was a huge help. But once they outgrew camp, it was back to the stress factory. If your kids like to read, that’s great, but today most of them are tech addicts. While you feel guilty encouraging kids to abuse their iPods, iPads, and game gadgets, you know that’s the only thing that will enable you to read your novel. If you’ve spent hours doing educational and bonding activities, like examining sea life and taking nature walks, and your brood still bugs you to entertain them, that’s when you just snap and scream, “Go play your Nintendo DS! Mommy’s going to the spa now and doesn’t want to be disturbed unless you are mortally wounded, and in that case, call Daddy, and I’ll be right there after they scrub the seaweed wrap off my thighs.”
     Eventually our daughter began to find other kids her age, and didn’t want to do anything with us anyway, especially as a teenager. Now we spend our resort dinners arguing, because that is the only time our daughter is forced to be with us, so that’s our one chance to tell her why downward mobility is a serious possibility for her if she doesn’t crack those SAT books. It’s a rollicking good time!
     But vacations also stress me out because things always go wrong at whatever resort we’re staying at, and invariably I wind up spending half my beach time seeking out hotel managers. When I’m paying exorbitant school vacation rates, I expect to have an experience that is better than being home. We could have spent that money refurbishing our kitchen or my face. If the rooms smell funny, or the toilet flushes only every other time, I want to change rooms. Then of course our new room is the one next to the screaming baby or the elevator that beeps all night, driving us all psycho.
     "I also have this issue with maid service, because whenever I come back to the room during the day, that’s when the maid is cleaning. To avoid this, I call housekeeping and ask for the room to be made up at a certain time of day. Unfortunately, relaying that message is like getting communiqués through enemy lines during World War II. The maid always claims she did not get any message. Of course this is assuming I can actually communicate with the maid, who often speaks another language. She thinks I’m saying, “I need more soap,” when in reality I’m saying, “Please come back later. I think I have an intestinal parasite and I need to use the bathroom in the next 30 seconds.”
     Other resort letdowns have included lousy restaurant service, disabled Wi-Fi (one year a storm apparently knocked out service for a few days), waiting for the shuttle bus that doesn’t come, the absence of towels or beach chairs, developing a skin rash from the spa, you name it. One year when I was especially annoyed with the lackluster service at a resort, I found a beautiful basket of food and a bottle of wine in our room. I thought this time the manager really tried to make it up to us, but when I read the note, I realized the treats were for someone else and had been delivered to the wrong room. We ate and drank everything anyway. That was fun.
     So you can see why I’m not sad that summer “vacation” time is over. We’re back to our usual routine, with no expectations of bliss. But in December, we’ll be flying out for another family trip because I have to go back to “work” every few months. See you in Palm Beach. [HS]