I’ve learned over a short career as a Dad that February Vacation absolutely STINKS. In the new era of both parents working, this whole “vacation” scam that is just an ass-blast of wild expectations of grandeur. Each kid comes home with the thought that they’re going to go on some magical journey for 5 to 7 days of iPad riddled fun while their parents take off work and stuff diabetes-laced candy and soda into their kid’s mouths, allowing them to lounge in their PJs, unshowered, and never see the light of day.
This is unequivocally, not the case. We both work and finding anyone to watch these tiny things is hard. Sure, I have a week’s time built up in the olde vacation coffers to spend. But I’m not about to waste it on a week in February at my own house. I’ve slotted my time for a bachelor party in April, and then a two week jaunt to Italy with my female wife unit. Both stops are sans children, and for good reason.
There’s a very important side note here. The older youth has been on several AMAZING vacations. He literally just claims sheer boredom the whole trip and essentially we’re just paying for him to use his iPad in a different state amongst some of the most unreal natural beauty this world has to offer. The younger spawn needs either the same technology, or a pool. If there is no pool, he’s bored. So, paying for a pool next summer is my goal.
A wrench was thrown in my attempt to sit the kids in front of technology all week while I attempted to work from home, but it wasn’t that simple. Report cards came home, and, safe to say, I expected what I received. My younger kid (who is off the wall bonkers) isn’t doing the best. So, he was grounded for a MONTH and all tech was taken away.
Fun. Bring on the migranes. Now, every waking moment of every day since he got home has been filled with questions, following me around the house, waking up at 6am, drowning the family with whining and yelling, and the replacement of technology with eating. He’s bored. All the kid does is play with a toy for about 5 to 10 minutes, then asks to eat, follows me into my office at home, whines, and then is told to get out of my office. The process repeats for about 3 hours, and then I break down and let him watch TV. Simple. Then, his mother comes home (at 9pm) and he’s either already in bed, or just about to go off to slumber town. Repeat.
Like, holy shit! When I was a kid I was told to get the fuck out of the house for a day, come back for dinner, and then go to bed whenever I felt like it. It was my fault if I was tired and my fault if I was bored. Simple. But now, with all the creepy rapers and child abductors around, we’re not allowed to tell these tiny versions of ourselves to wander the town aimlessly with a reasonable expectation that they’ll return.
I don’t think I came home during school vacations. We all had this rich ass friend who had parents made of solid gold. His house was basically a giant version of Christian Bale’s apartment in American Psycho. Also, he had a pool, and the necessary pool house for warmer weather activities. We spent the entire week there ordering greasy pizza and snacks, all paid for by said solid gold parents. In the winter, we’d go outside and build massive forts and shit, physically destroy each other’s bodies in football, and repeat until someone told us vacation had ended. But not my kids. Not in 2019.
So, off I go, every day, back to the hell fire of being a short order cook and full time baby sitter whilst trying to navigate working on new projects and earning money. Wish me luck.