Tuesday, 29 September 2015

Holiday Madness

Since becoming a mum I have found that various areas of my life that previously posed no real problems suddenly make my mind think irrationally. For example, going on holiday now addles my brains...

1) Appliances: On the day we are due to leave for our holiday, I suddenly look at normal electrical appliances in a suspicious manner. The kettle that is always plugged in suddenly changes function into something that wishes to catch fire and destroy our kitchen. The television, normally a happy form of entertainment transforms into a potential bomb with the onset of our leaving the house.

I make sure that all the things that are normally plugged into our electricity supply are unplugged as if they intend to incinerate all we hold dear behind our backs.

There is one exception - the fridge/freezer. For some reason this appliance is beneath suspicion and is the one and only thing that remains plugged in throughout our time away. While all our other electrical gadgets are shut down the fridge remains chilled - literally.

2) Clothes: When faced with choosing a few garments my brain switches into the illogical function that I try to hide on a regular basis. Obviously I have to travel light as all our luggage allowance goes on children's clothes (particularly pants for my 3 year old son), teddies and the special snuggly items the little dears can't live without (unfortunately my son is attached to a cot duvet - try squeezing that into a small holdall!)

In the moment of folding my attire into a gap no bigger than a lunch box I suddenly spurn my old favourite items that I believe lessen my look of a dishevelled hippie and go for things that I haven't worn in years simply because they don't crease and scrunch down to the size of a golf ball.

Hence, whilst on holiday I find myself wearing things that are too small (I no longer wear cropped tops, partly for my own dignity and to save others the sight of my pot belly bobbing about like a balloon trapped in a t-shirt), have mould on them or smell like the inside of my garden shed, they've been neglected so long.

3) Paranoia:  The final brain fart that lets me down on the brink of going on holiday is that I suddenly remember every horror movie I've seen that starts off with everyone piling onto the plane wreathed in smiles and ends with them all butchered in a ditch. Whilst on our recent trip to Budapest I was inspired by the beautiful architecture, the elegant statues and the rolling green of the Buda Hills, whilst all the time feeling I was one step away from entering a 'Hostel' movie.

There are wonderful things about going on holiday that make my mummy logic happy as a pig in poo...

1) Housework: While we're away I do not have to do housework. I can sit happily on the balcony and enjoy a glass of wine without thinking, 'In a minute I'll set too with the hoovering.'

2) Children: The cuteness of children interacting with people from a different country is enchanting. We taught our two a few words in Hungarian. I can guarantee this is worth its weight in gold when trying to squeeze on a packed bus or tram. Seeing the little cherubs chirp 'Thank you' in Hungarian has even the most miserable person smiling and clucking and offering help. Train your kids to be cute and you'll get away with so much.

3) Being Anonymous: It doesn't matter if I make a complete embarrassing twat of myself while abroad because nobody knows me. I just need to make sure my husband doesn't catch mortifying moments on his camera so that I'm spared the Facebook shame when we get home. (My husband thinks my humiliating cock ups are cute - they are not!)

Finally after all the fun and frolicks are over and we return home without being cut up into small pieces or arrested for the indecent exposure of a wobbly belly, there is the mountain of washing to get through. What I managed to squeeze into a small rucksack on the way out now becomes a mountain of washing that takes up all of the kitchen floor.

If you want to read a short story about another mum who has regular brain farts click on this link


For a funny extract on Mrs Misfit's disastrous attempt at erotic dance click on this link


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