“Now it’s over, you bastard!” I screamed over the terrace’

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Are you going on a lovely holiday, do you have to walk military marches all day long, do you want to strangle your daughter’s girlfriend, your sister-in-law is freaking out. grrrr.

Thirza (30), mother of twins Toon and Daan (3).

“Two three-year-olds, that’s pretty tough – to use an understatement. I longed for a vacation. So when my recently divorced friend Sacha suggested going on a surf holiday to northern Spain without the kids last year, I agreed right away. It was a group tour. And everyone was a lot younger than us – not a year or two younger, but really breezer-drinking young.

It was raining, the food was dirty, the nearest restaurant was far away and the surfing was super hard. I turned out not to be a surf babe, but a potato on a floating door, and reluctantly went into the gray, swirling sea. To top it all off, everyone had a barking cough on the bus back and I was still as sick as a dog two weeks after returning home. Sacha and I can laugh about it now, we jokingly call that trip the last convulsion of our youth. This summer we are going away for a few days. To a hotel with a nice wellness.”

The big city

Lena (32), mother of Felix (3).

“Of course you can go to a big city with a toddler, I cheered to surprised friends. “Don’t be so hard, girls.” Excited, I left for New York with my husband and son. And there it was sweltering hot: the heat lingered between the tall buildings and the street stank terribly. My hair stuck to my head, sweat ran down my back in streams. I suddenly understood why wealthy New Yorkers flee the city in the summer.

Felix didn’t like it and whined like crazy. His buggy got stuck in the craters of the poorly maintained sidewalks. The only place we held out a bit was Central Park. Feeding squirrels and watching street performances. And we could just as easily have done that in the Vondelpark.”

Cross the campsite with toilet roll

Jos (38), father of Tobias (7).

“Two years ago I reconnected with an old college friend, who has a son about Tobias’ age. He heard that we had no plans for the summer holidays and spontaneously invited us to go to Saint-Tropez with his family. His family had a villa with a swimming pool there. That seemed like a lot of fun.

As the holidays approached, the villa with pool changed to a penthouse with pool, to an apartment with shared pool, to a luxury house, to… Anyway, it was a Kip caravan in a hamlet twenty kilometers from Saint-Tropez. I had to cross the campsite with a toilet roll. And I remembered why I had ever lost touch with that friend: he was always a scumbag.”

Happy ending

Bianca (39), mother of Dex (9).

“I traveled through Thailand with my boyfriend Onno and my son from a previous relationship. Somewhere in Chiang Mai, Onno said he wanted to try a massage. We were standing in front of such a seedy parlor. The price list hung in the window. ‘Including happy ending‘, I read. I said: ‘Getver, here?’ My friend shrugged and said, “Never mind.”

However, at our next hotel, he went to the massage parlor every day. I didn’t look much into that, because five stars and all that, until one day I studied the ‘menu’ that was in our room. Sure enough, happy endings were offered. When I asked Onno if he used it, he said coolly: ‘Sure.’ Like: what’s your problem? We got into a huge fight, we ignored each other for the rest of the holiday and at Schiphol I wished him a long and unhappy life.”

Non-stop rain

Lina (34), mother of Kees (8), Rosie (6) and Borre (5).

“We went to a German camping site where the internet reviews said it would be great fun for the kids. Lots of friends, nice and friendly, blah blah blah. We rented a mobile home, because I don’t want to be found dead in a tent. The caravan itself was okay. No TV but hey, we had our iPads.

Thank God, because it rained non-stop. We were bored to death. Borre wet the bed and see how to get sheets dry in the rain. My husband was very grumpy, the children were beating each other’s brains, I longed intensely for my own house with a dishwasher, dryer, TV and a private room for the children. I was just about to throw the whole fagot gang in the car to go home when a watery sun appeared. We decided to stay a few more days.

The last day I polished the caravan until it shone, but we were called back at the barrier. It turned out that there was still some candle wax on the table and that had to be scraped off first. When that was done, my husband accelerated and drove home in one go.”

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Elleke (40), mother of Flora (10).

“My sister-in-law is rude, tactless and lazy, but our daughters get along well and that’s worth something. So when my sister-in-law suggested that we all rent a house on Lake Garda during the summer holidays, I decided to give it a chance. Error. In addition to being rude, tactless and lazy, she also turned out to be an incredible curmudgeon. She wanted to save on everything.

She insisted on making a tasteless cardboard pasta every night. She looked disapproving when I bought an ice cream for Flora, because then she had to buy one for her daughters too. Then it turned out that she hadn’t booked a final cleaning to save a few bucks, which meant that on my last day of vacation I had to clean and mop that entire cabin with sweat on my forehead – did I mention she’s lazy? Because of that holiday I was definitely turned off by her.”

Unforeseen expenses

Ralph (34), father of Lola (4) and Daisy (10 months).

“I felt sorry for my friend Rens who was in sackcloth and ashes after his divorce. A short men’s vacation was supposed to help him recover. We decided to go to Iceland, a cool destination par excellence. I’d had some run-ins with him – he didn’t always keep his promises and quickly became the victim – but optimistically thought it would be fun. When he arrived, Rens turned out to have hardly any money: his wages had not been paid, he had had unforeseen costs, and so on. excuses. I had to pay for everything that holiday. Iceland is outrageously expensive, so it wasn’t really great.

One evening Rens wanted to go to a special fish restaurant: 75 euros per person. Then we would drive inland to see the Northern Lights. Unfortunately, the fermented shark did not sit well, I puked completely under the rental car. We got blood bean on a mountain in the middle of nowhere. In the glow of the otherwise beautiful northern lights he managed to say that I had ruined his holiday. I never got my money back. After returning home, Rens blocked my number and his email address.”

Military pace

Katja (33), mother of Lotte (6) and Finn (3).

“I went to London for a long weekend with a friend. Cozy, I thought. Drink a little coffee, shop a little, drink a little, eat a little. Ha, that didn’t quite match her idea of ​​a successful city trip.

We walked at a military pace from one part of the city to another, because she normally always walked ten kilometers a day and now she really didn’t take the bus because I happened to be a chain-smoking slacker who lived on cracottes with cheese spread and bell pepper chips. She didn’t say that out loud, but I saw her think. We also didn’t enjoy drinking beer in a cozy English pub, because that didn’t fit in with her healthy lifestyle, and a bag of chips was not in it anyway. Every night we went to bed at half past nine. What a crappy weekend.”

Friendship cannot be forced

Famke (36), mother of Fien (8) and Moos (2).

“We rented a house in Tuscany with friends who have a daughter of Fien’s age: Emmy. The girls weren’t really friends, but both were fans of certain vloggers, unicorns, and hockey. That’s cool, we thought. But friendship cannot be forced. And that wasn’t so strange, because Emmy turned out to be an obnoxiously catty, jealous girl.

She hid Fien’s iPad, blamed her for a broken bowl that she had knocked over herself and told Fien to steal chips from the kitchen. I saw it all happening right before my eyes, but there was little I could do. In the meantime I noticed that Fien was becoming more and more introverted; that girl ruined her whole vacation.

When I heard Emmy say to Fien that she looked like a fat manatee, I snapped: ‘And now it’s fucking over, son of a bitch!’ I screamed across the terrace. The atmosphere chilled on the spot. My friends didn’t understand my outburst and comforted their sobbing daughter. We are still friends, but the girls ignore each other completely. A joint holiday is no longer possible.”

This article was previously published in Kek Mama.

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