5:30am wake up call. I get up, shower, do my hair and make-up, pack all my last minute items, then load up the car. It was a late night and I didn’t want M to be a nightmare this morning, so I was trying to let her sleep as long as possible. Today was my first proper vacation with her (except the trip to see family in Texas when she was 3 months old… but she was much too young to remember (and me much too tired)). Wanting to travel with M has been my biggest excitement. I want so much to show her the world and teach her all about the beauty of this creation. I want to watch her discover new things, push herself, and find out who she is in this crazy world. But I also want to do it slowly, cuz the idea of traveling with a toddler scares the shit out of me.
So, in a fashion very unlike me, I researched and prepped for this trip like nobody’s business. Prior trips to the mountains and weekends away have taught me the importance of busy bags, extra clothes, snacks, and the necessity of being organized and over-prepared. I also know that allowing for extra time is key. I pictured a perfect vacation away where she was happy and excited, slept a lot from being out in the sun all day, and being able to lounge by the pool with a daiquiri in hand as I watched M make new little friends and splash happily in the pool.
Spoiler alert. This is NOT how our trip turned out. Instead, this is my honest, raw, ready to cry at spilled milk account of what traveling with a toddler was like for me.
It started off by making the decision that more sleep for M would trump the need for extra time, because she'd wake up happy as a clam and jumping with excitement to go to the beach.
What started as a calm morning turned into an all out MMA cage fight crossed with mom rage.
I calmly woke her up with a soothing voice, then tried to rev up the excitement of the airplane ride that was soon to come. Nope. It was all met with screaming, crying, and an adamant refusal to get out of bed and get dressed. She was literally kicking and screaming (and I may have been too - though obviously not kicking her) as Grandma held her down while I tried to wrangle on her pull-ups, followed by pants and a shirt she was NOT happy about (even thought she loves this outfit).
Oh the rage.
And the snot.
Well, so much for that outfit… I packed another for back-up.
We were now late.
Her bed-head mop would have to do. I football carried her to the car.
Nope.
She was not having it. She was not getting into the car seat. She was straight-legging it, refusing to sit. Screaming and crying ensued. And more snot. (Better bring a second back up outfit… didn’t think of one for me though). I was raging. I had to tap out.
Grandma and Grandpa took over while I went inside to grab her another outfit (ie. scream out profanities that NEVER leave my mouth in the presence of others). I was slightly calmer when I returned. She was not. Still straight-legging. After some ninja moves (on both our parts), she was sitting in her seat and buckled up. Mostly. I’m a car seat safety freak, so it was actually pretty good. As good as I was going to get it at least.
Car started.
Crying continued.
Encanto was blasted through the stereo system.
Crying continued.
I white knuckled it nearly the whole way, trying to pull my mind towards my former training in mindfulness and deep breathing techniques. It’s ok. A beach was coming. She has to stop crying eventually, right?
And she did.. mostly… as we pulled into the parking lot and unloaded our bags to wait for the shuttle bus.
Well that did it. A shuttle bus. It was the greatest thing ever to her. And she flipped like a light switch. “We get to go on a shuttle bus!!” Smiles and excitement!!! I didn't know whether to be happy or angrier.
As I attempted to get M’s shoes on (back-up Croc shoes from my suitcase because in the chaos of the morning I'd forgotten her running shoes), carry backpacks, and load her on to the shuttle bus, Grandpa unloaded our bags. Everything was fine. We still had time. We had all our bags. And M was happy. Then once we walked into the main doors of the airport and I was sorting out M’s car seat, I realized the attachment strap wasn’t here. It was still in the back of the car… Grandpa apparently didn’t think it was important. So off he ran through the parking lot to retrieve it. Not a big deal. At least I didn't leave it at home.
Good. Car seat now sorted.
Next up was to make M look half-presentable, and not like she was a stray we picked up on the side of the road. After a quick attempt at fixing her hair in the bathroom, and another refusal to change clothes, we were queued up in the check-in line. A VERY slow-moving line at that. At that moment I realized that I still hadn’t had any coffee yet. Sigh. Maybe that would have helped.
Bags checked.
Security was actually quick, thank goodness. It meant we had JUST enough time to grab a booster juice/coffee and hit the gate as boarding was finishing up.
For my first time traveling with a car seat on the plane, it actually went very smoothly. Nobody gave me grief about it, and it was a breeze to strap her in and roll her through the airport. It was even easy to install it on the plane. As an FYI for those wondering, it’s recommended that children under 40lbs travel in approved child restraint systems (ie. car seats) whilst on a plane because they’re just not big enough for the standard lap belts to do much good in the event of turbulence. Better an extra rolly-bag than a toddler projectile mid-flight. Plus I’m all about containment. And when they’re strapped into the 5 point harness of a car seat, it’s easier to keep them in one place instead of trying to control a bouncing ball who keeps hanging on to other seats and getting all up into the faces of other nearby passengers.
We had an overnight stay in Toronto that night, and because normally on long-layovers I figured you’d get your luggage, I didn’t even think to ask if it was checked all the way through to Punta Cana. But I guess I should have, because we had to wait 4 hours to figure out it wasn’t coming down the carousel and have them retrieve it from an apparent never-ending wheel of connecting baggage. I suppose we could have gone without it, but after being covered in snot, sweat, and tears, I wanted a shower and clean clothes. It was like this day just kept getting worse… arriving at the hotel was decent though.
Gotta love those DoubleTree welcome cookies :)
We figured we’d have a nice dinner and a glass of wine at the restaurant next door to the hotel. A way to try and turn things around. But then because that’s just how today was going… the restaurant had to close down early because they had sewage issues, so the bathrooms had to close, and sanitation was becoming an issue. Then to make things even worse… the Oilers lost.
I was done with the day.
It’s ok. Sunday was going to be better.
It started with a happy wake up, a double shot Starbucks cappuccino, an easy airport check in, free breakfast (courtesy of a random traveler who gifted us their vouchers), and lots of extra time. But I was tired. So tired I was ready to cry at the drop of a hat. It turns out stressful situations really amplify the lack of sleep you get. I can’t even remember the last time I slept for 8 hours, or even more than 4 straight hours. (M doesn’t sleep well at night). It took everything in me to keep my eyes open and keep M entertained on the flight… at least I dozed a bit when she finally fell asleep.
It’s ok… we were arriving in the Dominican! There was sun, heat, pools, a beach, and free booze. Bring it.
But as most parents know, it’s not really a vacation when you have small children. It’s, as my friend Kevin says, “parenting elsewhere”. Of course it was great to watch M experience the beach and ocean for the first time, and it was fun to build sandcastles with her (and have a margarita in hand), but it was also tough. It’s tough when they whine and cry, and need to be carried everywhere. It’s tough when they make a mess of their outfit two minutes after putting it on. It’s tough when they walk slower than life itself and all you want to do is get to breakfast and have a coffee. And it’s also tough when they chase random, malnourished cats through prickle bushes and you can’t convince them to get out.
But it’s fun when you get those moments when they cooperate and listen and life isn’t so hard for just a couple of minutes. One night I even slept 10 hours straight (and so did she)!!! It was glorious. And thank God for Grandmas. Thankfully M took mid-day naps in the room and Grandma would chill in the room with her so I could have an hour or two of child-free time to read my book or have lunch. That small amount of time to myself really helped.
However, on Thursday poor M got sick. Her tummy just wasn’t happy with her. She spent half of Thursday and all of Friday in the room, curled up in bed or on the balcony couch watching movies. Tylenol came ‘round the clock for her fever, while cuddles and trips to the bathroom were plenty. Poor little sicky. She seems to take after her mom in that regard. I always seem to get stomach issues wherever I go. It’s an unfortunate thing, but that’s all part of travel I guess.
However, the most important thing is that she had fun (as did Grandma and Grandpa). We stayed at the Lopesan Costa Bavaro Resort, and it was incredible. I’ve only been to two resorts before, but this one takes the cake. It was gorgeous. It’s a 5 star resort that had been built in 2019, but due to Covid was closed for almost 2 years. So it’s essentially brand new. Everything is clean and modern. The food is delicious - there are something like 8 restaurants, 2 buffets, a ton of bars, an ice cream parlour, around 6 pools (including a massive infinity pool), a kids pool, and a waterpark! Plus there’s a whole boulevard (Lopesan Boulevard) that has an English pub, sports bar, gym, spa, casino, nightclub, bowling alley, coffee shop, theatre, and tons of shopping. It’s really quite impressive. If you’re into the resort life, I’d totally recommend it. It was definitely worth it.
But all trips must come to an end eventually. I prayed the return trip would be better than the arrival one, but alas, no such luck. When a toddler isn't given ample nap time, then woken up the second they do fall asleep, are forced to stay awake for nearly 22 hours because of all this, and still don't have a completely settled tummy, it's not surprising that they're going to be the one crying and screaming and difficult to control on the flights home.
On our arrival to Canada everyone on the airplane clapped... I could only hope it was because they were doing that weird thing where people clap for the pilot upon landing, but sadly I'm not sure it was.
After a delayed flight in Toronto, more waiting for luggage due to delays, I was finally in bed, asleep by 4:30am, 26 hours after waking.
Man. I need a vacation.
What age are they old enough to go to a kids club? Cuz Mia's probably not going anywhere until then 🤣