If I wasn't so afraid of flying, I'd probably hit the airport first thing tomorrow morning and retun to the safety of our little studio until Aug. 4th when we will have to vacate that little bubble of happiness.
The three strikes refers to the number of kid traumas I've gone through in less than 30 hours.
Strike #1: watch helplessly as Jaden slams his head into a waterslide and then disappears from view. (He was okay but rather hysterical, understandably, by the time I went down the stupid waterslide and swam to him and Jeff).
Strike #2: wake up at 2:30 a.m. to the sound of Jaden screaming at the top of his lungs because he fell out of the bed and whacked his head (again), neck, ear and shoulder on either the nightstand or Jeff's computer adaptor. I fell asleep thinking of those stupid British parents who went on vacation and left their kids unattended and then their daughter got kidnapped. So when I woke to Jaden's screams and didn't feel him in the bed, I was totally convinced someone was trying to kidnap him. Then I realized he was hurt on the floor and started frantically trying to find him and pick him up. Meanwhile, Jeff, the good parent, knew right away that he had fallen out of bed and not to move him in case he was seriously injured.
(He is not, but he has a good-sized contusion on his shoulder and sported a red, swollen ear for the majority of the day and complained of neck pain off and on. I had to give him Tylenol for pain in the middle of the night which I realized was necessary when he refused a bite of cookie as our meek attempt to cheer him up before we got him back to sleep).
Strike #3: I spend a perfectly enjoyable day with Jeff's cousins and end it with a fancy dinner out with all the kids. After Jeff's long -ass turn successfuly watching Jaden and Calvin while our incredibly slow server did who-knows-what for 1.5 hours (i.e. NOT bringing our dinners), I take over "watching" and let Jaden and Calvin sit alone near the table to watch the koi fish and then proceed to watch (in slow motion) Calvin roll right into the fucking pond. Instead of diving in, I screamed. Nice. Not. Very not helpful. Luckily his dad is very helpful and very fast and dove right in and got him out.
Calvin is 100 percent okay. He didn't even cry. I couldn't believe it. He just wanted to be held by his mommy and the restaurant staff brought towels for him and his daddy and then soon after that he said, "I want to go to bed."
[Why does the restaurant have towels right there anyway?!]
I will feel horrible guilt for the rest of my life and now have not one, but two, horrifying images to flash back endlessly in my brain. Jaden whacking the waterslide and Calvin tumbling into a koi pond.
Shoot me now, and don't tell me it was an accident and accidents happen because even Jeff told me on the walk back to the hotel that I did fuck up and I was irresponsible (not exact quotes but definitely the exact gist).
So nothing is going to make me feel better about this. I'm just a slow, senseless, retarded-no-reflexes idiot who should not be allowed to be a caregiver of anyone, anymore, ever.