Holidays with Mom

Family vacations are often the subject of amusing stories. There are plenty of jokes about kids and air travel, kids on long-haul road trips and so on. Many a column has been written about the dramas and blessings of travelling with children.

But what about travelling with moms? As we get older, our parents aren't necessarily taking us on holiday anymore – often we are taking them. And having mom along can be equally as fantastic and just as as bizarre as taking a four year old (well, almost).

A family member once (selfishly) invited her widowed mother along on a seaside vacation. She has four kids of her own and assumed that her mom would delight in the opportunity to spend time with her grandchildren. She would then be at liberty to chill out with her husband on a deckchair, cocktail in hand.

Well, as it turned out, grandma met a charming gentleman on the second day and proceeded to disappear for hours on end, presumably taking long walks on the beach. Mom, on the other hand spent a lot of time bonding with her kids at the baby pool while dad played golf.

This story does have a pleasant postscript. Grandma married her holiday fling and they baby-sit regularly. They might even be invited on the next family vacation. That is, if they promise to make themselves useful and watch the kids every once in a while.

Talking about being of use; my mother-in-law has three tough, athletic sons. And on holiday, it's just as well, since she likes to shop. And I'm not talking little trinkets. My in-laws home is gorgeously decorated with paintings, throws, lamps, crockery, sculptures and carpets that have all been lugged around various regions of the Mediterranean and south-east Asia by my reluctant brothers-in-law.

This is, however, a minor inconvenience, since my mom-in-law is terrific to have around on vacation. She is super-organised and does all the booking in advance. She is also enthusiastic and adventurous and genuinely loves spending time with her kids (including me).

I am perfectly aware that this is not the case with all mothers-in-law, and I'm quite sure that horror stories abound. But that's a whole other discussion.

By mother-in-law – son-in-law standards, my mom and my husband get along well. In fact, going on holiday with both of them is quite a pleasure. I have found, however, that we should avoid travelling to or from our destination together.

You see, my husband insists that he and I pack one suitcase in order to save space. My mom packs a suitcase, a vanity case, an overnight bag and a collection of plastic bags. The bags contain an assortment of shoes too big to fit into the suitcase; knitting; 'padkos'; and a year's supply of magazines that she hasn't had the time to read.

This disparity in packing styles leads to endless grumbling on my husband's part, since it's his responsibility to pack the car while my mom instructs him on which plastic bags need to be within reach.

The fun doesn't end there, though. My mom is an amateur botanist. This means that she insists on stopping to peruse every remarkable looking plant by the roadside. If the plant is rare enough, she gets her garden shovel from a conveniently reachable plastic bag and proceeds to dig it up and put it in the car.

I confess that this drives me as crazy as it does my husband, since it can turn a four hour drive into a two day journey. This is worsened by the fact that my mother cannot get used to the idea of someone she gave birth to driving a car.

Every time I reach 100km/h she stiffens, her eyes widen and she surreptitiously tries to grip whichever part of the car she can find. I, in turn, clench my teeth, and tenaciously speed up to just over 120.

Instead of having a nervous breakdown, my mom will turn to me, smile, and ask: "Do you remember the story about the mielies?"

Of course I remember the mielies. When I was two and a half years old, my parents took myself and my three pre-teen brothers on a six month tour of Europe and America. As you can imagine, this was a logistical nightmare. I aggravated the situation by refusing to eat anything but mielies.

All accounts of this vacation confirm that my long-suffering mother not only managed to find me mielies, but also negotiated nappies, temper tantrums and a fear of flying with absolute grace.

You see, for all the carefree holidays of childhood there was inevitably a less carefree mom somewhere in the background, organising mielies or slapping on sunscreen or listening for the lifeguard's whistle.

This is why the ploy inevitably works. I ease my foot off the accelerator, and enjoy the scenery.

Have you had any quirky adventures with your mother. Share you stories with us, mail chatback@w24.co.za.