My mother wants to go on vacation with us.

Some of you are reading this and thinking that I should jump at the opportunity to have a babysitter watching over the Devil on our upcoming family trip. Grandma can watch the boy as my wife and I lounge on the beach and drink tequila sunrises until the sun rises, you say to yourselves.  But I know better.  I know that the semi-childless dream vacation will never happen.  Because we already tried it. 

About two years ago we had the brilliant idea of bringing the mother-in-laws on our vacation so that they could look after, and bond with, the then two year old Devil.  Prior to the vacation my wife and I fantasized about how we would be able to sip frozen drinks at Fat Tuedays in the evening, and roast our pasty New York skin on the beach during the day.  We never knew that our fate had already been sealed. 

Our mother’s didn’t want to eat what we wanted to eat, didn’t want to go anywhere near a beach, and waited to see if we would pay for everything.  It got to the point where one day we said “ok we’re going to Bo Jangles” after a long debate over what  we were going to have for dinner and everyone was in agreement.  Then one of the mother’s figured out that it was a fried chicken joint and said “I don’t want fried chicken.”  Another mother tried to order two breakfasts so that she could have one for later.  Lady, I think we’ll be able to find a place to eat lunch. 

And I don’t even want to get into the childcare thing.  We would leave the boy in their hotel room right next door, and three seconds later they would be at our door “he said he wants his mommy and daddy,” they’d say.  The two in-laws would nap while  we entertained the Devil, they went to the movies while we chased the Devil, they ate ice-cream while we put the Devil to bed.  The only night to “ourselves” we got was when we pushed our sleeping boy over to their hotel room, slipped out into the night, and purchased some frozen 180 Octanes in over priced to-go cups.  My wife and I hastily drank them in our hotel room, had a quickie, then went to retrieve the boy before our parents intruded.

On the flip side, last summer we  rented a  23rd floor two bedroom condo on the beach for a  week, put the boy to bed by eight, and drank tequila on the breezy balcony as we listened to the waves of the Atlantic crash against the shore.  This was after hours on the beach playing and eating like piggies.   That ‘s the vacation I want to recreate, not the other one.  Sue me.