Holidays From Hell...

When you get back from your jollies, you usually have that period of mourning. When you are saying to each other, 'This time yesterday we were on the beach making sandcastles/drinking cocktails/laying topless' (delete as appropriate to your holiday). Followed by a dreamy look into the distance, a deep contented sigh, and then perhaps a scout in the holiday homes abroad section of the newspaper, looking for your dream property in the area you have just returned from.

Not when you have been on holiday in a group. You come back and say, 'Never again/what a waste of money/how horrendous were so and so's kids' (don't delete any, all apply).
There were warnings by several fellow bloggers who kept sending me good luck messages before I went, as if I was going off to the gallows. They knew, they'd done it, they were smiling with glee that it wasn't them going abroad with too many children under the age of five.

It has taken me two weeks to get over the holiday, I couldn't even face blogging.
I was more exhausted than after both times I gave birth. Mainly due to one family starting their day, everyday on HOLIDAY at 5am!! Surely this isn't normal for anyone other than a milkman? And why is it that kids have dog like hearing? If one child is up, they're all up. Then the tiredness creeps in, the hitting and whinging begins, the not eating due to overtiredness/weird food begins and it's a vicious circle of tired grumpy children and tired grumpy adults. Add to this a daily dose of rain, a bug going around the villa and I was entering our home address into the sat nav, wondering if it was possible and how long it would take to drive home across five countries four days early.

Due to post traumatic holiday disorder, I can say no more on the subject without suffering from horrendous flashbacks...maybe one day I will be able to talk about it fully. But not now. It's just too soon...