Mothers Day stresses me out. Every year we go on a picnic with the extended family. The mums relax (they've already prepared the food). I don't. You see, the husband's family thinks that as The Bubbly One likes to be outside that he'll love a picnic. They promise to help us watch him. "He'll be fine. You can relax and just let him go". Umm no. Master Bubble is a runner. He gets overloaded in open spaces, busy spaces, new spaces, and he just runs, and runs, and RUNS. All freaking day. Last year was still fresh in my memory- morning sickness and trying to keep up with him while everyone relaxed and enjoyed their Mothers Day. My own mum who came along later took pity on me when she saw I was near tears after three hours of it and took him home to her place so that I could relax for an hour or so. Bless her. My Mothers Day post really should be about her but I want to do her justice so my beautiful mum will get a post of her own soon. Anyway, I digress.
So this year I begged to just go away for the weekend. We needed to get away for a few days anyway. Daddy Bubble was all for it and The Bubbly One has always been great when we go away. So we booked a nice resort room with a heated pool opposite a nice calm bay. Perfect. Or it should have been.
We had a leisurely drive to our destination, checked in and headed our room. The Bubbly One freaked out in the hallway. Wailing, trying to run back to the lift. I get down on his level and look around, and I realise that the hallway looks like the hospital where I had The Little One last year. The poor kid thinks that I'm disappearing for a week and possibly bringing home another baby.
I say to him "Do you think mummy's going away?"
He wails again and there's a "yeaaah" in there.
"We're all staying here together buddy, Mummy, Daddy, Master Bubble and The Little One- all together".
The wailing stops and he stands still. By this stage he is planted just inside the doorway of the room which has a long hallway leading to the lounge room. Daddy puts his cartoons on the TV.
"Two sleeps buddy. All together. Do you want to sleep here tonight?"
"YO!" Phew! Crisis averted, go Mummy!
Then he started to run. Up and down the long hall. He ran and ran and ran. He slapped the plasma tv in excitement. He ran and slapped, and pulled the stuffing from the lounge cushions until we gave him his melatonin three hours later. He crashed after 45 minutes- sprawled across the king sized bed. No big deal, Daddy and I watched tv from the sofa bed and went to sleep at about eleven. At 1:12am I was woken by a loudly "talking" Bubbly One. Gave more melatonin. Nothing. If anything he grew more hyped up. We tried everything and eventually gave him the iPad and traded shifts dozing beside him. Happy effing Mothers Day I thought.
Needless to say, Mothers Day morning we had one plan- wear him out. We headed for the bay, with The Bubbly One harnessed up, school shoes on his feet because he wouldn't wear sandals. We crossed the road and I realised that there was no way I was going to get The Little One in his pram down near the sand. All good, I had the carrier in our room so I raced back to get it. Five minutes later Little One and I return to the beach and Master Bubble and Daddy are nowhere to be seen. I call Daddy who says "We're halfway down the beach. He's flipped out, throwing sand at everyone and running into the water and going nuts every time I try to stop him. It's not going to work. I'll carry him up near the road, come and meet me so no one thinks I'm trying to abduct him!". Okay, so I head up to the pathway with The Little One only to see an elderly man fall over. I raced to help he and his wife who had a few little ones with them. He was okay and none of the littlies escaped, but when I tried to find The Bubbly One and Daddy I couldn't see them. I rang him again (what did we do before mobile phones??) and they were now even further down the beach. Master Bubble was in full meltdown mode by this stage. I began to trek down the beach but could not see them. I asked a couple sitting on the sand if they'd seen a blonde boy with a frazzled looking dad in pursuit pass by. "Oh yes, they replied. I think that's his nappy over there". Oh crap. "Oh no, that wouldn't be him" I said (why? I don't know) and headed off. I call Daddy again. They are right down the end of the beach- approximately 1.5-2km from where we started.
So I keep trudging through the sand, cursing how unfit I am, The Little One asleep against my chest and blissfully unaware of the chaos he's in the middle of once again. Eventually I find them. The Bubbly One is crouched naked from the waist down, wet all over and covered in sand. Daddy is barefooted and seething with frustration and embarrassment, standing just out of reach of the sand being flung at him. I catch my breath while Daddy fills me in on the tantrums, the throwing sand, the running into water over his head over and over and having to be pulled to safety, the peeing on the sand and of the stares when he picked him up and was pummelled over the head with Master Bubble's bare bum on display for all to see.
We decided that we didn't really want to walk back through all of that again so we hightailed it- The Bubbly One over Daddy's shoulder crying and hitting, and found the gate to a caravan park. And we walked, barefoot, with our pants-less five year old (who looks seven or more) two kilometres back to the resort, past the locals out for a walk and past the fancy jazz bar full of perfect families celebrating Mothers Day in style, with no choice but to smile and say hi to everyone we passed. What else can you do?
Anyway, after that little adventure, we calmed down and Daddy started to joke about fried shrimp being avoided (The Bubbly One only had sunscreen below his shorts). I love that man so much. He's had the morning from hell, rants for a while under his breath, then starts joking to make us both laugh. Once we got back to our room I cleaned us up while Daddy went on a scavenger hunt to find the trail of belongings we'd lost and our bags (complete with wallets and keys). he returned with everything but Bubbly's shorts and his own thongs (that's flip flops for you Americans I think). We went for a drive up the coast and got some McDonalds, and went for a swim in the heated pool- which was a raging success (we should have done that before braving the beach). We got the kids to bed that night, had a seafood platter from room service, watched the football and slept- on the sofabed again while the five year old had the king sized, but we slept, and we laughed- because what else can you do?
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