Loving the Staycation

Dartmouth, Devon

I’ve got to confess I’m loving our staycation, but I think the success of it is that we are strict in keeping in mind that it is a holiday. No cleaning…to the extent that I woke up in the middle of the night feeling guilty about not cleaning the toilets for a week and a half (saddo I know). The guilt wore off by the time I got up though, hey we’re on holiday. So now when I’ve got 30 minutes to myself while hubby goes for a run and Babe sleeps to either:

a) Read my new Ian M Banks Scifi book (yes I’ve found time to read)

b) Clean the toilets and that mound of dishes (all pretty gross)

c) Blog (and here I am opting for the later)

So here are what I would summarise as the keys to success of staying at home and holidaying

1) No cleaning, unless essential. Well we all need clothes to wear and glasses to drink out of. But the manky shower can wait till at least the weekend.

2) Get out the house for a least four hours each day, whole day if poss.

3) Splash out on the holiday treats (if you can afford it) like meals out, ice creams at the beach and new clothes/stuff. I’ve yet to get my allocation, but we have a few more days left. The other half got some Maui Jim sunglasses, so if fair is fair, then I am due something pretty good.

4) Buy nice foodie treats for at home. Magnum ice creams are on special offer at Sainsbury’s at the moment, so these are a particular favorite of mine this week.

5) Do things out of the ordinary on your day trips. For example, one evening instead of staying home for tea, we headed off to the beach to eat fish and chips (and the must have northern accompaniment mushy peas).

And all the time we say “why don’t we do this more often?”

Why don’t we? I don’t know, it’s too easy to get stuck in the routine and rut of staying home and being boring.

Off to wake up the child or else it will be midnight before she drifts off.


Toddler Beach Day

Yesterday, the start of our ‘staycation’, we decided to make the most of the summer sun (before the inevitable week of rain) and head off down one of the local beaches – Exmouth.

Gearing up and shipping out for a beach trip is usually somewhat fraught, but not so on this day. I came downstairs to find coffee awaiting me and bacon being fried. Babe had not suddenly advanced, it was actually hubby being spat at by the pig in the pan. What a great start to the day, bacon and egg sarnies. And I’ve got to admit, he cooks it so much better than me. I’ve not the patience required for the perfect crispy but not tooth breaking bacon.

After some time of the usual faffing around we headed off.

Once at the beach we set up camp, literally. With our new beach shelter come tent thingamabob. If we weren’t going camping for real this would have to do.

Guess who had forgotten the bucket and spade?

This was not an issue until Babe saw the other little’uns with them and all of a sudden felt immensely deprived. I nearly caved in and bought another set but managed to distract her with a twig. Of all things…she was happy to dig and flick for a good 15 minutes while I worked on my back up plan.

Who needs a bucket and spade when you have a plastic tub
This currently had grapes and chopped pineapple in, but our late morning snack sorted that out. And so she was presented with her own unique, perfect Babe-sized bucket and spade, and she swallowed the marketing spiel nicely. She dug away with her spade lid and we made brilliant little stubby sand castles with the tub.

Then to give Babe her first rockpooling experience. At first she was cautious and then when she thought there was poo to play in, a whole different level of enthusiasm kicked in. I did try to explain that sand and water wasn’t poo, but she was having none of it. What is this thing about toddlers and their obsession with poo, or is that just Babe?

After other highlights of the day, like motorbike watching, we headed off home.

So let’s hope that we don’t get rain for all the rest of our staycation. Maybe someone could have a word with the weatherman.

Pregnancy Calls Off Camping Trip

Camping - cooking over a hunters fire.

Image via Wikipedia

Reality took a check by our house last week, when we realised that two weeks camping with a toddler and me nearing the third trimester of pregnancy was not such a great idea. Initially I was reluctant to give up the idea of our big annual camping trip, but my body spoke up and did the talking for me on the topic.

The unexpected problem
The last thing I thought would stop me in my tracks has – tiredness. There I was getting worried about sleeping and the logistics of wedging myself into my mummy sleeping bag at 26/27 weeks pregnant. Not the tiredness that just everyday life presented me with. Contemplating having to hike across a field every time I needed to pee, the dishes needed washing etc would require an extra pool of the energy stuff that I just can’t seem to locate right now (they don’t sell it at Tesco or on Amazon). Try doing nice day trips on top of the day-to-day tasks of just camping and I think I might just risk bringing on an early labour. I’m all for homebirth but tentbirth I am not!

Reaching the realistic compromise
While we wanted to give Babe a brilliant summer holiday to remember we soon realised that going camping under our current circumstances was not going to necessarily be all that joyous. Not if ma and pa where going to be exhausted and grumpy.

Staying home
The very thought of this a month ago filled me with dread. I’m at home all the flaming time as a WAHM, why do I want to stay here for holiday? I was also not going to be defeated. But defeated and beaten I am…ground down to the point that I’m relishing staying home, taking it easy and just day tripping. I can hog my double bed, drown my bump in the giant bolster pillow and pee in the real bog in the room next door. I can wash the dishes without having to walk them around a field to take in the view first, and I can roll and bounce around on my birth ball all I like without odd sideways glances from fellow campers.

All is not lost
There is a small chance we may venture out for a night or two but let’s not count our chickens yet…