Picture this: We’re in Northern California, staying at a Hampton Inn as we make our way to Disneyland. Five of us crammed into one room with two beds and a rollaway. After an hour of negotiating with my 9-year-old son and 7-year-old daughter about the dangers of jumping from bed to bed, I turn around just in time to catch my 2-year-old joyfully dismantling the hotel refrigerator. She’s squealing with delight and causing chaos at the perfect height for her tiny hands to reach into.
When we booked the room, the website refused our reservation, claiming it couldn’t accommodate more than four people. After a frustrating phone call, they finally relented. But now, after a quick dip in the pool that only seemed to amplify their energy, I longed for the sweet escape of separate rooms. Just the thought of handing them a bag of chips and checking in on them in the morning made me chuckle.
I used to watch vacation movies where kids sat quietly, gazing out the window, then peacefully fell asleep in hotel beds. That fantasy is far from reality when you’re sharing a hotel room with kids. Instead, it involves desperate pleas to visit the hotel pool, even when you’re utterly drained from hours of driving with kids squawking about snacks, asking how much longer, or crying over a dead tablet. The thought of entering a chilly, echoing hotel pool feels like a Herculean task, yet you muster the energy, don your bathing suit, and dive in to avoid the endless whining.
You end up with towels soaked in chlorine strewn across the floor, wet swimsuits everywhere, and kids bouncing from bed to bed, screaming and fighting, until a hotel manager knocks on your door to remind you of the other guests. You apologize profusely while your partner shoots daggers at the manager, silently communicating, “Do you really think we can control these little tornadoes?” You can’t help but wonder about the couple below you, probably childless millennials driving a Subaru, blissfully unaware of the chaos that comes with parenting.
In an effort to keep the peace, you turn on the TV, letting the kids choose whatever they want to watch. Soon, they’re squabbling over My Little Pony and SpongeBob, both airing at once, while you and your partner try to calm the storm, reminding everyone that we’re supposed to be having fun on vacation.
There’s the inevitable whining about the hotel water “tasting funny” and one parent falling asleep with a child, while the others are glued to the screen far past their bedtime. Their eyes glaze over, ready to erupt in tears if anyone suggests turning it off. So, you let it go, preparing for a long night with the blue glow of the TV illuminating the chaos.
When morning comes, you wake to find your partner, hair askew, holding a hyperactive child. Her eyes are bloodshot, and she’s clearly been up for ages while you snoozed through it all, making you feel like the biggest jerk around. You rise before dawn to the sound of the TV blaring again, children tugging at you, pleading for another trip to the pool. Breakfast? Forget about it. You’re stuck with stale donuts and nearly expired yogurt.
After a long night, it’s time to pack up and hit the road again, looking forward to another hotel stay. The lingering question remains: Are these family vacations truly worth it? For a look at more relatable parenting experiences, check out this insightful blog post here. And for those considering their options, this resource offers excellent information on pregnancy and home insemination. Plus, if you’re in the market for at-home insemination kits, this retailer has you covered with their quality products.
Summary
Sharing a hotel room with kids is a chaotic experience that often leaves parents longing for quieter times. From the endless negotiating over snacks and shows to the wild energy that takes over, vacations can feel more like a test of endurance than a blissful getaway. But amid the chaos, these moments become cherished memories, even if they come with a side of exhaustion.