It was my birthday this weekend. I decided, a few months ago, we would go see The Wizard of Oz at the Rosebud Theatre, as my treat to myself. If I have to pay for my own birthday presents, it might as well be a trip to the theatre, one of my favourite places in the world. We stayed the night and then hit the Royal Tyrrell Museum (dinosaur day!) today.
The kids loved the show, we had a great dinner at a great restaurant (that made me wish I lived closer to Drumheller), splashed about in the hotel pool, watched Teletoons-Retro on TV, all snuggled on the king size bed. I relived some of my youth as we watched Inspector Gadget, and cracked my kids up as I belted out the theme song.
Today, we started our day with a yummy complimentary breakfast at the hotel, a trip to see the World's Largest Dinosaur, and climb the 100+ steps to the top and look out its mouth, and then to the museum. It took a little over 2 hours to walk through the whole exhibit, then we had lunch, walked and played outside for a bit, and then bought a couple souvenirs from the gift shop.
Then, we got ice cream, drove to Calgary, a quick visit to IKEA, and then dinner, and home.
Overall, I think everyone had a great time; at least they all claim to.
I find these family outings/holidays strange. I'm determined to give my kids these kinds of family experiences. It was only about a week and a half after C left, that I packed my two boys into our car and drove to the mountains to find snow (it was winter in NZ and snow was not abundant at sea level). It was something we'd have done as a family, so why wouldn't I continue to do it? Even in my grief, this was truly something I wanted to do with them. I know some who think it's extra fantastic that I do these kinds of things as a solo parent, but I guess I don't really see it that way. Why wouldn't I? Not everything we do costs a lot, but I've always believed in giving my kids as many experiences as possible, so I do.
Today, when we got back, though, I felt like it had been a good weekend, but also kind of a crappy one. Oldest told me his birthday gift to me was going to be not fighting with Middle all day. That lasted all of about half an hour. The second fight was about an hour after that. I listened to Youngest whine every half hour about how hungry she was. She is obsessed with eating and must do it at all times. That is only a slight exaggeration.
We were only in the first room of the museum when I had to pull all 3 into a quiet-ish corner and lecture them all about taking turns at the various hands-on stations, and not to violently shove each other out of the way all the time. All 3 of them must be first all the time, and no one EVER gives in to the others. We could have fit our lunch onto 1 or 2 trays, but we HAD to have at least 3 because everyone needs their own tray. We sat in a theatre and watched a film on the work they do at the museum and the boys almost came to blows over a "shared" armrest. I ended up grabbing one of them to come sit on the other side of me. The consequence of that little debacle cost them each a souvenir at the gift shop, so Middle proceeded to cry and ask WHY he couldn't get something and hear my same answer for the next 45 minutes. Well, I didn't keep answering him, but he did persevere with his lament on the unfairness of his life. He did get something in the end after I told him I'd buy it and he'd pay me back with the money in his wallet, so he could only choose something quite inexpensive, since he doesn't have much money. (I don't plan on making him pay me, actually. I started feeling a bit more merciful on the car ride home. I will "forgive" his debt when we chat tomorrow). In IKEA, I immediately used the washroom, and asked all 3 if they needed to, and none of them did. But 5 minutes into shopping, one of them did. Then, 5 minutes after that, another did. And these were quite urgent, so I KNOW they could have gone when we first got there.
I know much of this is inconsequential. But little things add up. And because I've holidayed with children by myself and with a spouse, I know something to be true. The good times are great. Everyone loves them. The bad times suck, but you only have to deal with about half of them, typically, because sometimes your spouse will take the tantruming child somewhere else. It's just easier to deal with children when there are 4 adult hands to do so; two adult minds to think of twice the innovative solutions to the crap that's hitting the proverbial fan. You have another adult to look to to confirm that you are, indeed, NOT going insane, and that it's really the children. It's not you, it's them.
But on your own, everything keeps building and building and building, and before you know it, a wonderful weekend is kind of there in a misty place in your mind, but it's mostly blocked out by the grouchy attitudes and pushing and shoving and fighting that constantly needs breaking up. The kids don't make me feel sane. Even in the good moments, I feel tired and exhausted and can't shut off or relax. I'm quite certain that's why I spent most of last night not sleeping, with a migraine.
So, this is a good thing. It's a good thing to know that it actually WAS a good weekend, but the rough patches feel especially rough because it's just me. That's not to feel sorry for myself that it's just me, but this actually is an encouragement to myself for all future family endeavors. The good feels good, but it's more tiring, and the bad feels worse, because I don't have a relay partner. And that's okay. Coming to this conclusion makes me feel better about the whole thing.
But I still might need them to play a lot of video games or watch movies tomorrow so I can recover in relative peace.
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