Avoiding Crisis

the world’s end

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….or the end of the world depending on how you translate “El fin del mundo.”  

So, according to my daughter we are traveling to where the world ends.  As wrong as that may seem, it’s quite cute coming from a my sassy, know it all, I-speak-better-Spanish-then-mommy 4 year old. 

On Thursday we will travel 4 hours by plane from Buenos Aires to Ushuaia, the world’s southernmost city.  Three days later, we head northwest from Ushuaia to El Calafate.  We will be gone for 8 days and 7 nights.  It will be cold.      

Oh, and did I mention that the “we” going on this trip includes not only my two young children (am I insane?) but my parents too (I must be insane!).  I’m not sure who I’m more stressed about, the kids or my folks. This should be a very interesting experience. 

I’m a lousy vacationer.  Even before I had kids, this was the case.  I’m sure that even at a world-class, all-inclusive resort I could find something to stress about.  If I don’t freak-out at least once it’s just not a vacation.  This time I vow it will be different.  One can only hope.

My parents, otherwise known as grandma and papa in our house, arrive tomorrow morning.  I’m excited that they are coming.  We haven’t seen them since October 2006, when we went back to the United States for the first time in over a year only to arrive at their brand new house 10 minutes after the moving trucks pulled up.  It was an interesting few days to say the least.  Oh, so where was I?  Yes, excited.  But also worried. 

Everyone keeps saying how courageous we are to take a trip like this with two small children.  Two small children aren’t my problem, I’m more concerned about my parents.  

Here’s the thing I’m a bit worried about.  My parents, as great as they are, and I mean it when I say that they are great people, have this ability to drive me very close to the edge of sanity.  Case in point, last time I was on the same plane as my parents I was so angry with my father about something he said he was going to take care of but didn’t, I took my ire out on a flight attendant.  I swear, and I’m not exagerating, she was this close (imagine me showing you a very teeny tiny space between my thumb and pointer finger)  to throwing my big-fat-ass off the plane. 

I consider my mother to be one of my best friends but we are as different as night and day.  If she were a 5 star hotel, I’d be a youth hostel.  If she were a cashmere blend, I’d be plain boring cotton.  Too much time together and we will get on eachother’s nerves.  It’s never a matter of if, just a question of when.  

My dad on the other hand, he’s got quirks and sometimes those quirks really piss me off.  This is a man who, I recently found out, never let his children just win a game. You know, the type of winning that happened when you were 5 years old playing Candy Land and all of a sudden you get that card that puts you at the end of the board.  I bet you never once wondered how that card got there, you just thought that  you were the luckiest kid in the whole world.  Nope, never happened in my house.  Cards didn’t just magically appear when you needed them most.  There was no cheating.  We played the game and we played it fair and square.  It was important that we knew how to lose.  

My father is banned from playing Candy Land.                     

The sun sets at 9:15PM where we are heading.  I could be in for some very long days. 

I’m off to finish packing. 

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Written by nicolemarie

February 6, 2007 at 9:51 pm

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