I am so full of crap.
On the 21st, in the honeymoon period of our weeklong vacation, I waxed on about our special moments. Little did I know that Madelena and her Terrible Twos, along with Shawn Joaquin and his twin pals of terror — Jealousy and Naplessness — were lurking around the corner ready to smack me in the head and rob me of my illusions as well as my patience.
Over the course of the week Gregg and I learned not to judge the successfulness of any venture or day by its entirety but rather by hours.
"That first hour at Sea World — before the whining about snacks, avoidable bathroom emergencies, dolphin soaking and sippy cup dropping — were really fun, weren't they?"
"Boy, I really enjoyed that walk from the parking lot when both kids were passed out from the heat and general exhaustion. I didn't even mind that smell."
"When we went out and left the kids with a sitter, spent $53 on three drinks and fought about petty things but were uninterrupted by children wailing while doing so....good times, good times."
In the end I think we learned to schedule less things for the kids to do, more sitters to provide comic relief for the kids and mental relief for us, pack fewer clothes and more diapers and wine, and to lower our expectations to "if no one dies or ends up in ER, we're going to be okay." Doing so would ensure that no one is disappointed, no baby is left in a wet diaper for an extra hour, and the adults can spend less time arguing about who should have packed snacks and more time toasting the sunset or opportunistically napping. Other than that, I wouldn't change a thing. Especially the participants, who despite their annoying tendency to collapse to the floor while wailing if asked to do something not to their liking, bonded even more deeply and solidified the idea that yes, yes, we made the right choice in choosing one and other.
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