“Our men are crazy about cycling. M. and J. are brothers, we live near each other, and together they cycle about 200 kilometers every week. In July they follow the Tour de France always fanatical on TV and online. So a few years ago they thought it would be fun to go on a cycling holiday to France with the four of you: my husband M. and I, brother-in-law J. and his wife O. plus of course their racing bikes.
Barbecue
We booked two nice ones mobile homes at a campsite in Provence and while our men were sinking their teeth into a mountain, O. and I were lying in the shade with a book, we went to a town or went for a run together.
At the end of the afternoon we would all cozy up by the pool and in the evening we threw some meat on the barbecue. Everyone was happy, so the following year we headed to the Pyrenees for another cycling challenge.
Pregnant
But then O. became pregnant and we skipped one (M. and I went to Sweden that summer – without a racing bike), but last year M. and J. wanted to go out together again.
In the meantime my brother-in-law and sister-in-law had twins and that meant that the holiday had to be organized differently. So O. wanted a hotel. I don’t have any children myself (yet), but I understand that you want more comfort with two toddlers.
hypersensitive
However, this holiday disappointed me. I just don’t find a holiday in a hotel as relaxing as on a campsite. In previous years I bought a baguette in the camping shop in the morning and we went to breakfast in our shorts in front of our mobile home. In a hotel you have to shower, dress and show up in the breakfast room…
More important, however, was the ‘transformation’ that O. had undergone. She had gone from a fun, laid-back sister-in-law to an obsessed mother: everything, everything, everything revolved around the kids, all day long.
chickens
At breakfast, almost fifteen to fifteen minutes were spent discussing how one or the other half of the twins had slept (badly, usually) and the conversations were only about bottles, fruit snacks and diaper rash.
During the day, when the men were back on their bicycles, O. was glued to the hotel and so I strolled through the market on my own. And in the evening after dinner my sister-in-law got into a fight with the twins. J. by the way. Cosy, not†
mother hen
Back in the Netherlands I told my husband that I didn’t like it much anymore that way: he cycles almost every day, I was stuck with a mother hen all the time. As much as I also love the twins, the balance was lost. ‘I understand’, said M. I breathed a sigh of relief, because it had been quite difficult to bring this up.
“Next summer vacation we will go together,” he continued. “Then we will also buy you a racing bike. Do you have the time to train in the coming months and we can cycle together in France next year!”
Knee inflammation
I laughed and exclaimed enthusiastically that I thought that was a great idea. But then it dawned on me that I had to conquer those French mountains. And I didn’t like that at all, certainly not together with that well-trained man of mine.
So when M. started talking about buying me a road bike again, I lied about having a knee infection and then fabricated a wrist injury. But of course I can’t keep that up permanently. Then maybe I’d rather go on holiday with my sister-in-law…
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