Vacation Part Two
So we're at the motel room. Husband and I are exhausted and the kids want to go to the beach. I understand why, I really do. I remember being on vacation with my folks and doing the same thing. I could'nt figure out why we were spending any time in that room. It was soooo boring. I told them so, repeatedly. Well this is God's way of getting you back. (Note to Princess J. - your day will come.)
I feel guilty. I remember being a kid and how hard it was to understand adults. So we take them down to the beach and it is fun watching them have fun. I also get the benefit of shoving the guilt monster off my shoulder. Soon it is time to go. The rest of the night passes relatively peacefully.
I never mentioned the motel room. My husband picks the motel room. He likes to get the really nice room. It has to be on the beach, facing the beach, and it has to have clean rooms. It is a pleasant change from when I was younger and had to stay at the no-tell motel for $70. a night which was nowhere near the beach. Oh and my (female) friend S clogged up the toilet the minute we got there, but that's another story. Nowadays, I might pick a cheaper room than what we're in now, if left to my own devices. But my husband knows better than to let me.
I do, however, have a few comments about motel rooms in general. First, they don't wash the quilts between guests. How many people have done it on the same quilt you are sleeping under? I mean, everybody goes like rabbits when they're in a motel room. (unless they have three frickin' kids)
Also, the toilet paper. If the people before you leave half a roll, the maid doesn't throw it away. She leaves it. There it is, contaminated with other people's poop germs.
Then we get to the towels. We are a family of five. We always make that clear when we reserve the room. There's always FOUR towels. They feel like cardboard and they're the size of a postage stamp, so they're not going to cover my fat ass anyway.
Also, you don't get a full 24 hours for your money. You check in at three and leave at eleven. For two-hundred bucks, I want the full 24 hours!
Last but not least, maid service. You have to leave the room so somebody can clean it. I don't want somebody else cleaning up after me. We're pigs. I just want some clean washclothes and towels. Only I don't speak Spanish and the maid doesn't speak English. Speaking slower and louder doesn't work. I've tried. This is definitely not a criticism of the people who clean rooms. They are probably the hardest working and lowest paid people on the staff. Think about it - they pick up everyone else's mess and probably put up with a lot of crap. Some of them may not have given birth, but they are all professional MOM's.
But I digress...I am telling a story like my mother-in-law. What was the point again? (Just teasing, Bun.)
We are to day two and breakfast. This motel has a great breakfast. It is make it yourself, but the variety is tremendous. Cereal, toast, bagels and cream cheese, french toast, waffles, juice, coffee...lots more I have forgotten.
We don't like to take the kids downstairs to eat because well guess. I am the official getter of the breakfast.
But it's time to go. Perhaps this lengthy tale will wind up eventually. Have a great Friday.
I feel guilty. I remember being a kid and how hard it was to understand adults. So we take them down to the beach and it is fun watching them have fun. I also get the benefit of shoving the guilt monster off my shoulder. Soon it is time to go. The rest of the night passes relatively peacefully.
I never mentioned the motel room. My husband picks the motel room. He likes to get the really nice room. It has to be on the beach, facing the beach, and it has to have clean rooms. It is a pleasant change from when I was younger and had to stay at the no-tell motel for $70. a night which was nowhere near the beach. Oh and my (female) friend S clogged up the toilet the minute we got there, but that's another story. Nowadays, I might pick a cheaper room than what we're in now, if left to my own devices. But my husband knows better than to let me.
I do, however, have a few comments about motel rooms in general. First, they don't wash the quilts between guests. How many people have done it on the same quilt you are sleeping under? I mean, everybody goes like rabbits when they're in a motel room. (unless they have three frickin' kids)
Also, the toilet paper. If the people before you leave half a roll, the maid doesn't throw it away. She leaves it. There it is, contaminated with other people's poop germs.
Then we get to the towels. We are a family of five. We always make that clear when we reserve the room. There's always FOUR towels. They feel like cardboard and they're the size of a postage stamp, so they're not going to cover my fat ass anyway.
Also, you don't get a full 24 hours for your money. You check in at three and leave at eleven. For two-hundred bucks, I want the full 24 hours!
Last but not least, maid service. You have to leave the room so somebody can clean it. I don't want somebody else cleaning up after me. We're pigs. I just want some clean washclothes and towels. Only I don't speak Spanish and the maid doesn't speak English. Speaking slower and louder doesn't work. I've tried. This is definitely not a criticism of the people who clean rooms. They are probably the hardest working and lowest paid people on the staff. Think about it - they pick up everyone else's mess and probably put up with a lot of crap. Some of them may not have given birth, but they are all professional MOM's.
But I digress...I am telling a story like my mother-in-law. What was the point again? (Just teasing, Bun.)
We are to day two and breakfast. This motel has a great breakfast. It is make it yourself, but the variety is tremendous. Cereal, toast, bagels and cream cheese, french toast, waffles, juice, coffee...lots more I have forgotten.
We don't like to take the kids downstairs to eat because well guess. I am the official getter of the breakfast.
But it's time to go. Perhaps this lengthy tale will wind up eventually. Have a great Friday.
posted by Caro at 8:25 AM
1 Comments:
This is where grandparenting is the most fun. If you happen to be on the vacation, at the point where the parents have done all the work, you can just waltz in and play the good guy. You have had all morning to sleep in and drink those cups of coffees, watch tv, soak in the bathtub and spend time of looking good.
You take the grandchildren for the afternoon. Papa can take the little one to run the beach. You stay with the girls and give into their every whim and tell them how special and beautiful they are.
You take them out to dinner where they want to go and then deliver them back to the motel, cranky, dirty and tired so the parents can take care of all the unpleasant stuff.
You and Papa get cleaned up, go to a nice restaurant, come back and watch the sun set out on the patio.
Being a grandparent is just great.
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