I could feel my cheeks burning as my furnace-like breaths heated up the confined space. While the air started to sizzle, my knees screamed at me to stand and release the tension that had built up.
Months of CrossFit hadn’t prepared me for this. Shuffling like the ninja I wished I was, I started to be attacked from above by an avalanche of sand-covered buckets and spades, deflated beach balls, crocheted blankets, and nappies.
It was at that point I also realised I was actually stuck, with two nappies velcroed to my hair, in a wardrobe of the apartment we were renting.
Why was I in the wardrobe? Silly question, reader. Obviously, it was so I could spend 30 minutes waiting for my semi-conscious two-year-old to fall asleep.
Wait, but why the wardrobe?
Dear reader, we all know you hide in a wardrobe rather than risk waking up an indefatigable toddler because of a door that groans louder than the audience after someone actually asks a question at the end of a meeting, right after the boss says, "Any questions?".
Also, the silver lining was that the nappies were unused.
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When it comes to holidays, there are different stages of the holiday that people love.
First, there’s the pre-holiday planning and imagining. Oh, the sweet, sweet potential, of what will be.
Then, there’s the doing and being at the holiday. Man, we’re here, really doing that thing. We’re really doing it!
Finally, there’s the post-holiday fun. Looking back over the photos, sharing the moments, telling and retelling the stories to anyone who will listen. (We all know if you are one of these people, other people listening is optional).
I’ve realised I’m a 50 per cent pre-holiday and 50 per cent in-the-holiday person.
Except, I had forgotten three key things:
My kids were on the holiday.
They were there the whole time.
I was still a parent. Even when on holiday.
If the last 18 months have taught me anything, it’s that escapism is both a blessing and a figurative kneecapping.