I’m pulling my hair out because a planned ski weekend with child-free friends is morphing into a family vacation—and that family is not mine. I had initially declined the invitation because it seemed like a couple’s thing but my friend Anna asked me to reconsider because there was one slot left after Kevin, our bosom buddy, joined the two couples. Last year, Anna and her husband took the Fourteaus and their two toddler daughters, but this year, it looked like a good group of low-key adults with no kids.
As it turned out, our friend Margot and her family were planning to go skiing the same weekend. Anna encouraged Margot to book in the same resort so we can all hang out. I love Margot, but I abhor her children’s father—aka pretentious condescending weasel she calls her husband. THEN there’s her kids ages four, two and one. She thinks they’re angels—amongst my friends’ kids, I find them to be the most misbehaved—and the very sad truth is that it’s partially because their mom, dear Margot, god bless her soul, has no control over them. Margot works long hours and rarely sees her children during the weekdays, and she’s not as in tune with them as their nannies are—resulting in routine meltdowns and tantrums when she’s in charge.
Even though I don’t have kids, I’m the first to criticize this country’s Stone Age environment for working moms. It’s unacceptable that a smart woman like Margot can’t take a high paying job without having to choose between the job and raising kids. We’ve got a LOOOOOOOONG ass way to go, America, but in the meantime, I’m looking at being stuck in a room with Weasel and his screaming brood in less than five days—and that’s not the ski trip I signed up for.
I travel with kids—I did last month with my friend in Europe. It was her five-month-old’s first flight and I told her, “If he screams, it’s my fault for all those times I’ve been the bitch on the plane rolling her eyes at the screaming baby.” (He was an angel going (woohoo! bad attitude karma offset by other good deed karma!) but then he was one bundle of cranky on the flight back…(okay, karma, you didn’t forget…)) But you see, I agreed to traveling with bebe upfront. Here, in skicalypse, no one asked. Not Anna, who really should have asked her company if we would mind, nor Margot, who should have asked if it would be okay with us if the kids came along. But apparently OUTLIER sans over here is the only one freaking out because I’m the only bigot who sees the delineation between friends with kids and those without. God, I feel like an asshole.