September 30, 2010

Holiday Reflections - The Mummy Diaries Style.

Things I have learned about family holidays from my parents


That children don't give a shit about trawling wineries and gourmet food regions. In fact, they will hate your guts forever for not taking them to Movie World. What may seem like a whimsical and romantic trip through Mudgee, ultimately means 6 hours in the back of the car with your parents who hate each other, sister who vomits a lot and an older brother that thinks it's hilarious to roll up the windows and unleash a barrage of farts on you, the minute your parents exit the car to grab a Kit Kat and a hot cuppa at a Stop, Revive, Survive spot.


That when your mother tells you that your father was really a lazy good for nothing, she was right. Because every year he would plan a family holiday in the middle of winter that would always involve at least 6 hours of driving to some shitty caravan park, where you would stay in a caravan with no heating and plastic sheets on the mattresses. It was all made better by the fact that 1 day prior to the holiday, he would put the family wagon in to be serviced (it's first in over 12 months) which would always result in the mechanic revealing that hundreds of dollars worth of work needed to be done to the car to ensure we would reach our destination without becoming road kill. There goes the holiday "entertainment fund."

Rest of holiday is spent with mum and dad alternating between throwing each other daggers and the silent treatment, bickering over what lunch meats to have on our bread rolls, or telling each other to fuck off, die and that they make each others skin crawl.


Further to lesson two, upon arriving at Mudgee caravan park destination at midnight, mother discovers purse missing and instantly blames good-for-nothing father who must have either a) left it on the hood of the car after visiting service station for petrol and a Chokito or b) left it on the dashboard and driven away only to have it fall out the window. Mother and Father have row of mammoth proportions. No one in dinky, white trash caravan park batts an eyelid.

Father grabs brother and makes him accompany him on 4 hour drive back in the other direction, in the pitch black of night in the hope of finding said purse. Any sane person would realise this is utterly stupid, however Father is now on a mission to find the purse and throw it at my Mother's head. They arrive back at white trash trailer park sometime around 4am, sans purse. There goes holiday "entertainment fund"


As an adult you will try to do better than your parents did and vow never to take your children on a shitty caravan park holiday to Mudgee, Orange or the Hunter. You decide to drop an entire tax return on a family holiday to LA and San Fran that includes your 2 year old son and 10 year old stepson, which you will ultimately regard it as the biggest waste of funds ever.

Your 2 year old will chuck massive tantrums everywhere, hitting himself in the head and convulsing like he's been possessed and will almost have you thrown out of Alcatraz for his maniacal display. Your stepson will tell you that "Disneyland sucks" and it will take every fibre of your being not to punch him in the guts as you imagine the amazing holiday, just you and your husband could have had for 10K.


Establish that children are only worthy of caravan park holidays and at a very big stretch a week on the Gold Coast or a shabby P&O Cruise. But never, ever LA and San Francisco.

Ungrateful sods.

For more lessons in life from The Mummy Diaries, shoot over to her piss-you-pants funny blog @
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