I just returned from vacation, and I'm exhausted.
At first I thought it was my introversion that was the issue. A week with no moments alone, no time by myself, surrounded by my little family and nearly five thousand guests and employees on a cruise ship. Okay, so the cruise was only Friday through Monday, and the rest of the eight days was spent driving to Fort Lauderdale and back, but still.
The books I packed, imagining lazy hours by the cruise ship pool or on the beach, they remained unread. I did finish one thin book I had already read half of, while crouched on the loveseat inside of our cabin while our toddler slept fitfully.
I discovered our middle child is embracing middle child syndrome. The "prove you love me by buying me stuff I don't even want" appears to be fully activated. Even when she received what she wanted, it wasn't good enough, and she sure as hell didn't want to share with the toddler or anyone else. "I'm not hungry," she tells us when we sat down at a restaurant. I told her she didn't need to eat, and she certainly did not, not one damn bite, after insisting on ordering a meal anyway. It was endless, overwhelming, and damned annoying.
The teen and toddler weren't so bad, but toddler energy is tough to keep up with, especially in crowds. I lost him one morning on board the cruise ship for a full five minutes. Which was kind of mind-boggling since it was six in the morning and 99.9% of the guests were still sound asleep. A kind woman brought him back to me as I was trying to explain to a staff member that he had disappeared.
Me: Excuse me, but I've lost my two year old.
Staff: You've lost your two year old?
Me: Yes, I turned around and he was gone.
Staff: You turned around and he was gone?
Besides parroting back my words to me, he wasn't much help. It was then that I saw my little boy, hand held by a woman with two older children in the distance. He had slipped down the stairs into the casino area, attracted by the bright lights and flashing buttons.
I learned something about myself on this trip. It isn't just introversion that's a problem, it's that I spend the entire time worrying about others. My husband looks stressed, I should give him some time to have a beer and de-stress. The baby looks ready for a nap. Our daughter wanted to go to the pool, I need to see if it has opened up yet. The teen probably needs time to wander. I wonder if we can get an early dinner. How should we do sleeping arrangements tonight that will allow [fill in the blank] to get more sleep than they did last night?
If you spend an entire trip with a list of to do's, concerns, and time worrying about others - well, you cannot enjoy any time off because you literally have no time off.
The trip back, I made sure to stop at one playground a day. Something special (Google best playground in [city]) that the kids could enjoy and run around and get some energy out in. We have photos, good times DID happen, but still...
"What do you want for dinner?" I asked my husband as we approached Memphis on our way back. BBQ was the answer, so I Googled "best bbq in Memphis" and we ended up at B.B. King's BBQ.
It was loud, crowded, and while the ribs were excellent, they were also from the tiniest animal I've ever heard of - each rib was just four inches long. I was imagining beef ribs, I guess, or maybe a full-grown pig, when I ordered the four ribs meal for $18.99. If I ever return, I'll get the full rack. Maybe I'll also get the salad I ordered with it. After three polite requests for the salad, the server brought it, TO GO, after I told her I didn't want it and just wanted the tab, insisting that I "had ordered it, so she wouldn't be taking it off of the tab." I left my husband to deal with it. It felt very Karen of me to have to point out that a salad comes at the beginning of a meal, not in a to go container, so I held my tongue and walked out of the restaurant without another word. It isn't my job to educate a server and frankly, there was no need to do so anyway.
This sounds like a lot of complaining. But we did have moments of joy, don't get me wrong. Just as with any day, there was laughter right along with the growls of frustration.
"I want a great roadtripping experience, like my friend has with her family." I said to my teen this morning. "They go every year and see really cool places. How is it that they have a great time? What am I doing wrong?"
"Mom, the internet is a cesspool of lies!" He tells me. "They don't tell you about all the times they yelled or wanted to just go home."
Maybe that's true. Maybe I'm just not cut out for family vacations with the Littles being so, well, little. I know one thing. After decompressing for a few days, the hubs and I are in agreement, no one will die if we don't have a family vacation next year. Instead, I'm already considering where we could go, just the two of us, for a week of true relaxation.
Maybe Singapore and Bali. Maybe Macchu Pichu. Maybe Edinburgh. I'm not sure yet, but I know it will be a true experience. And even if it means me heading out on hikes of ruins alone while my hubs does a pub crawl, hey, to each his own. We both should have the time and space to enjoy our destination, in whatever form that takes.