True Story: I Planned A Family Vacation And Forgot To Invite My Wife

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Probably the thing I miss the most about my youth were the spontaneous road trips and adventures. As long as you kept your bug-out bag in the ride, you could just get up and go anywhere at a moment’s notice. Heck, as long as you knew which gas stations on the way didn’t strictly adhere to the “no shirt, no shoes, no service” rule, you didn’t even need the bag.

I once lived an entire week in nothing but flip flops and a standard city-issued lifeguard bathing suit. If you spend your days outside smelling of sunscreen and chlorine, nobody’s going to really notice the stale alcohol and gooch funk that might be getting mixed in. Besides, it might not be me, the city ain’t come by to fix the bathroom. The one with the locked gate, you know the one.

But now? Oh man, it’s hard to get away, even just for a weekend. I gotta figure out sitters for the dogs, make sure a neighbor can scoop up the mail, or any packages that come. Then the same goes for all my friends as well, maybe one of their kids has a recital, or maybe the pool guy’s coming that weekend. It’s always something. Then there are more dogs that need boarding, and the logistics of getting enough pack-and-plays to the location we want to go hang out at.

A few weeks ago, I finally pulled it off. A buddy of mine and his brother-in-law were all able to get off enough time from their respective places of business, we found a place to stay, and then we all loaded up our respective families like a Clampett Caravan and rolled down to the beach. We get down there and all two wives got out and greeted each oth— wait shouldn’t there be three of you?

Yeah, I forgot to invite the wife. I planned a family vacation with friends and everyone’s kids, and I didn’t invite or bring Mrs. Icehouse.

“Shouldn’t this just be an easy fix? She can just hop in the car with you!” You, an idiot, might interrupt.

No, it’s not quite that simple. Mrs. Icehouse manages a store here in Austin, that of course, as a retail operation, is going to be open on weekends. (Side note: big ups to the intrepid listener of the Dadgum Podcast who DM’d the store and name-dropped me asking for a discount. You guys are weird and I dig it)

Now as the manager, she sets the schedule. During the whole planning process, I guess I just figured that she was on the email chains or was just learning through osmosis or something, because I essentially did all of this and didn’t give her any information. So she scheduled herself to work that Saturday, all of the other employees made plans and couldn’t fill in that time slot, and she couldn’t just close the store. She also has integrity and leads by example, so she wasn’t going to call anyone and force them to work for her.

So what happened next? Needless to say she was displeased. As were the other wives on the trip, since they’re all buddies. So yeah, I got put in the doghouse by several different people, in addition to signing myself up for a weekend’s worth of single parenting. Thoughts of getting Mrs. Icehouse a one-way plane ticket for Saturday night were discussed in earnest, but never finalized.

Everyone had the best time they could, us with the kiddos at the ocean, and the wife trying her best to make it through a hungover day at work before getting a pedicure and cranking the shit up at some random rooftop pool bar. I deserve that.

So lesson learned here everyone: use that CC function on your emails. Nobody is ever going to fault you for over-communicating..

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Icehouse

International sailing champion and friend to most wolves. Except Larry, he knows what he did.

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