Saturday, December 5, 2009

HOLIDAY LIKE A KID

‘Mommmy! Holidays are here!’ someone screeched jolting me out of a blissful kid-free dream where I lolled about on a hammock, sipping a Daiquiri, writing my best seller.... Holidays! Good grief! I leapt out of bed, poured myself a huge caffeine fix and pondered the dismal state of things to come. My days were doomed! Schools, colleges, every single institution that I depended on to give me a few moments of solitude had shut their hallowed gates and packed up for the holidays!. How on earth was I going to handle a stir crazy family? There was only one way to tackle a tattoo obsessed teen, high strung twins and a psychotic maid– head out to the remotest island and sit out the impending domestic storm. But traveling with kids is easier said than done…
Let’s start with ‘packing of the bags’ scenario. Try telling a fifteen year old fashionista that mosquito repellent, sun block, sensible shoes and other boring gear, not mascara, stilettos and fashion mags, are the 5 things you must carry when traveling, and you are asking for some serious trouble here. Be prepared to be called frumpy, dumpy and dowdy when you insist that the ‘T back on shorts summer look’ will cause a riot in a dusty little town called Karwar. Arguments on the logic of wearing Oshos on flight will invariably snowball into an avalanche of tempers until you finally gave in out of sheer exhaustion. So I did what every sensible parent does…I left my teen to her devices hoping that she would eventually learn her lessons, the hard way. In the next room, my eleven year olds had a totally different perspective of what goes into a holiday suitcase. Swimsuits, beach toys, Captain Underpants, Secrets of Droon, Baby Sitters Club, Archie comics, Uno and no underwear was the scene here. If talking sense into a teenager is tough, just try telling your tweens that they can’t take their Transformers and Barbies along. Their still-cherubic faces will instantly burst into tears making you feel like the meanest mommy ever. After much squabbling over everything, we land at the overpriced resort swarming with pesky mosquitoes, bored staff, and unappetizing food only to discover that I had forgotten to pack my new Anne Klein swimsuit, had only two decent T-shirts, and oops! It was the time of the month…I am a whisker away from bawling my lungs out when a frosted Marguerita appears out of the blue. ‘Happy Holidays mommy!’ three sunburned munchkins hold out the best peace offering ever. ‘We’re working on your hammock’ winks my partner, and magically my dream comes true, even if it’s for a few days…

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