The Sh*tty Trip

I had so much excitement for my planned trip to the Cape with my husband, the kids, and my mother. I am actually still on the trip but decided to start this blog to share my laughs and cries with you all. The last time my husband and I took our children on a vacation was 1.5 years ago, and we were both certain we would never travel again (I will do a post about that trip in due time). All ready to go, we decided to take the ferry from Long Island to Connecticut, then drive to the Cape. My husband thought the ferry would be a great "break" from the drive and allow the children to get out. We hurried to get the best seats for the trip on the top (outside). It started out great until my son (one of the twins) took a face plant off the seat, the bag to our food ripped, and we had a soggy mess. My son is screaming, the dog is panting, and my husband decides to get hot dogs for everyone. The twins are now no longer sitting and doing laps around the top deck of the boat, the wind is gusting to the point that my eyelids are stuck to my eyebrows, and I am just ready to vomit. After sweat, nausea, bloody noses, and hot dogs, we made our way back to the truck for the drive. The first hour my son screamed ferociously, my husband and I argued because he did not want to pull over and believed my son's cries were of exhaustion—until after approximately one hour he finally believed me that it was not exhaustion. My son was getting sick from the hot dog. As he continued to scream on and off for the remainder of the drive, I shed a few tears, my husband wanted to turn around and go back to New York, and my mother, who really should be the head of an Italian mafia, proceeded to tell us how we should handle it. Finally, we get to the house, we quickly freshen up, and go to this restaurant that was highly recommended (it was already past dinner time), we get there and the line is out the door because their power went out for 2.5 hours, but was finally restored. We had to stand in line for 30 minutes with screaming, crying, hungry children. Our patience was gone- we left that at the ferry dock. Fast forward to the following day, an absolute sh*t storm - no joke. We brought our dog on the trip who must have pooped in the yard, and we did not see it, except for my son. My son literally runs into the home with dog sh*t on his shoes, on his pull up, and all over his hands. My husband is gagging, I am screaming, and my older daughter starts to chase him. If that was not enough, my husband then went outside and stepped in the same sh*t and put it all over the outside deck. Approximately thirty (30) minutes later, my son runs to me with sh*t all over his hands, I start to flip out and asking where is this dog sh*t coming from now, to realize he was pooping and putting his hands in his pull up. Aftering the sh*tty morning we had (literally), we decide to go into town and have lunch. Lunch was nothing short of my children screaming, crying, not wanting to stay in the stroller, and spontaneously trying to run in the street. We felt absolutely defeated. We were trapped and could not go anywhere with these children because they simply would not listen. The 5 year old did not want to share crayons with her younger sister and my son wanted to act like Johnny Knoxville in an episode of Jack*ss. My mother and husband ordered a cocktail while I shed a few tears at the table wondering how my children became such wild animals. I started to rethink my whole way of life "should I not work" "am I not disciplining enough" "how will we save and afford a future if I do not work" "they will have more issues when they are older" The mom spiral was on full effect. We were then back at the house after lunch and just hanging around and letting the kids play. While I was making some snacks, I could not find my son. Eventually, I checked my mother's room, and it was locked. We opened the door and he had sh*t again all over his hands. This time it was all over the doorknob, walls, and the rug. It was almost like he was projectile pooping. To him, it was the funniest thing in the world, to us, we were all gagging, putting him in a bath, scrubbing rugs, doing laundry, and not letting this child out of the house. In the first 24 hours of our trip, we mostly dealt with cries and sh*t. It turns out my son's molars are breaking in. After a day of sh*tty hell and the twins did not want to sleep because of the new environment, they both laughed and kissed me "I love you, Mom." And somehow, all the struggles of the day went away. (My five year old totally gave up on the twins and was snuggling with my mom). I haven't even posted anything on social media. All I can think of is what will I post? My son's sh*tty hands? My screaming daughter because she wants electronics that I refuse to give?" I just cannot post a fake fully happy post when we are drowning here. I need to let the other parents know we had a really tough 24 hours and I am still hopeful the remainder of the trip won't be tough and if it is tough, I just pray to God it is not sh*tty.