Hotel Life

I think if we were a young childless couple, hotel life would be incredible.  No need to cook or clean, all manner of restaurants at our disposal, gym and sauna upstairs, massages downstairs.  As I said, incredible.

With children, it is intolerable.  To put it mildly.

Yes, all those perks are still there.  But for some unfathomable reason, my kids are not content to spend their days cooped up in a 10 x 15 ft room while I read and eat Bon bons.  Go figure.

Our days look something like this:

Wake up

Figure out breakfast.  Will it be the hotel buffet (inexpensive and delicious, but difficult to manage if Kevin is at work) or cereal and milk in paper bowl on our hotel towel picnic blanket (messy, to say the least)?

Get OUT of the hotel.  Walk the neighborhood, explore the park across the street, the underground mall and food court, take a taxi to do one of our endless errands, etc.  Whatever it is, it better happen soon after breakfast or meltdown occurs.

Return for lunch.  Will it be peanut butter and jelly or carrots and yogurt?  Let me say this.  I did not plan well when I bought yogurt.  Sure my kids love it.  But there is no way to strap any one of these kids down; so the yogurt, much to my dismay and chagrin, gets carried around and spilled all over.  Today this included behind the toilet and on the control for the bidet.  I kid you not.  I am dying to have a dining room table again. 

Naps.  This usually involves some combination of children crying.  It almost always includes Gabriel and Zeke crying from exhaustion, but often includes Gianna and Aliya crying over their frustration at being locked in their small, well-appointed, 150 square-foot prison.

While the boys nap I keep the girls busy with coloring, card games, books, stories on tape, and yes, the occasional movie.  Whatever it takes, people.  Whatever.  It.  Takes.

Boys wake up.  GET OUT OF THE HOTEL, on the double!  If not, meltdown x 10 will occur.  Doubt me?  I dare you to come and try it.  (Nevermind.  My kids never melt down for other people.  So, please… come and try!)  We usually play some form of tag or racing or anything active enough to tire these squirrely kids out.

Return for dinner.  Try, oh, please try to time it well.  Can’t wait until kids are starving.  But can’t come home too long before Daddy gets there either, otherwise I’ll have a mutiny on my hands.  Send the kids out with Daddy to pick up dinner.  Close my eyes for 15 minutes. 

Bedtime.  Did I mention we’re all sharing 2 twin beds pushed together plus a chaise lounge?  Yup.  Pray bedtime goes well.  Nap for awhile.  Wake up to check email, blog, and then back to bed.  Hope and pray that I don’t get kicked in the head/ribs/back too many times throughout the night.

Middle of the night… we won’t discuss that here.

Morning.  Rinse and repeat.

I see a glimmer of hope at the end of this tunnel, though.  We have an opportunity to stay in a borrowed apartment for a few days.  This will mean a washing machine, a kitchen, space… Ah, it all sounds so luxurious.

Take your room service and your massages and your sauna.  I’ll happily settle for a dining room table.

My angels, on one of our morning adventures.  See, it’s not all terrible.  🙂


  1. Man, oh man…here I’m struggling to get my crew out for a hike! lol! Praying you have more “angel-driven” adventures. Miss you!

  2. Oh Micaela!!!! We can barely stand ONE night in a hotel with only TWO kiddos… I can’t even imagine. We’re praying for a home base for you soon!!!

  3. awww your girls are so beautiful. you should get a massage! hang in’s gonna get better! (lets see if my post works…i usually dont read blogs or post)

  4. Thanks, all! We moved into a borrowed apartment yesterday and things have already gotten much better.


  1. […] bothering me this morning.  And if you’ve been reading me since the beginning, you know that I seriously detest hotel rooms with kids.  (Go ahead, go read that.  It’s from my first couple weeks of blogging, but it still makes […]