A holiday almost ruined by boomerangs

Normally I’m looking forward to summer.

Summer is appealing. The slight mist of humidity in the air, the sunshine on my skin (vitamin-D benefits), and the days of sitting on a warm Australian beach listening to the sounds of the ocean. However, this appealing scenario is often dependent on whomever else happens to occupy this same space. You see, I’m a parent of a boy. I’m sometimes known as the mum (or breeder) depending on the addressee.

My typical beach day is atypical from nonbreeders beach days. The day involves the repetitive verbiage of “Please just shit still.” “Are you tired?” and “When is nap time?” Following this is usually some other logistical strategy, or the how-to-wear him out. I’ll spare you the final details of feedings, pooping, unloading prams from the car, and finally walking 1km to only realise it was all in jest.

The Australian beach is so very tempting. So tempting, that despite the hurdles outlined above, our family all piled into our car and headed down the coast to meet with our beloved in-laws. These same glorious and egregious in-laws whom would save us from our everyday shenanigans of similarly!

So, where were these boomer souls that may take over and provide some relief to us, the poor peasants? Well, they weren’t really there! not least in the theoretical sense. You see, they have an outstanding ability to be present in the physical sense, but that’s about the extent of it. When queried about such behavior the response usually goes something like this; “Well, no one was there for us!

I/we (husband included) would really appreciate half-an-hour of unhindered wave listening bliss. “Sorry, got a cold!”, “Sorry, have something on.” “Well, we gave you 30 minutes during our spa bath and wine tasting session.” Well, you get the gist of where this is going. Their actions or rather inactions are comparable to fake reporting of grandma’s death to get an extra day off work. And I suppose the point of this is to ultimately ask; Why is it that our boomer parents insist on making things harder for us?

The mini-me tripping into the ocean

Hardship is often cited. “Well, it was hard for us”. My arse! This has nothing to do with “hardship”. Hardship doesn’t necessarily make you a wiser stronger old bird. In fact, hardship likely makes you a grumpy old fart. What you really should be saying is that you are envious or jealous. Parenthood for a large part of my generation is/was a “choice”. And we will continue to nurture, encourage and GIVE to our children, despite what challenges you may throw our way. GIVE not TAKE.

The old are eating their young. Literally. They are consuming resources for future generations. Literally. Despite this, we pick up and we move on and we ship out. Vitamin-D is in short supply.