We found ourselves at a Hampton Inn in Northern California, en route to Disneyland, packed into a single room with two beds and a roll-away. The atmosphere quickly devolved into chaos as my 9-year-old son and 7-year-old daughter argued about bouncing from bed to bed, while my 2-year-old delighted in dismantling the hotel fridge, squealing with glee as she rummaged through its contents.
When we initially booked the room online, the site wouldn’t allow us to reserve it, claiming it couldn’t accommodate more than four guests. Naturally, we called the hotel and argued until they begrudgingly agreed. But as we returned from the pool—where the kids had seemingly gained a new level of energy—my only fantasy was to whisk them off to their own room with a bag of chips and check back in the morning. Not that I would, but the thought brought a smile.
Gone are the days of idyllic family vacation movies, where the kids sit quietly gazing out the window or peacefully asleep in hotel beds. The reality of sharing a hotel room with kids is a nightly saga of pleading for a dip in the pool, despite the exhaustion from hours on the road with kids whining for snacks, asking how much longer, or losing it because their tablet has run out of battery. The idea of entering a cold, echoing hotel pool felt like torture, but I summoned the last bits of energy, squeezed into a swimsuit, and took the plunge to avoid their incessant complaints.
It involves towels soaked in chlorine strewn across the hotel floor, wet bathing suits everywhere, and my children—naked and wild-haired—leaping from bed to bed, wailing and squabbling until the hotel manager knocks on our door, requesting we keep it down. I apologize over and over, while my wife shoots daggers at the manager from the back of the room, her expression clearly saying, “Really? You think we can control these little terrors?” Meanwhile, we make assumptions about the guests below us, convinced they’re childless millennials driving a Subaru, blissfully ignorant of the realities of parenthood.
It’s turning on the TV to whatever nonsense the kids want, just to keep the peace, while they bicker over whether to watch My Little Pony or SpongeBob—both of which are airing at the same time, naturally. Soon, parents are yelling for everyone to just get along because, hey, we’re on vacation!
Picture kids crying because the hotel water “tastes funny,” or one parent and one child passed out while the other kids are glued to the screen long past bedtime, their eyes glossy from overstimulation. You let them watch, knowing it will lead to a rough night as blue light fills the room.
Sharing a bed with kids may start sweetly, but it quickly devolves into a tangle of limbs, with little feet kicking you in the ribs or worse—waking up to a diapered backside in your face at 2 a.m. You rise to find your partner, hair askew, holding a wide-awake child, her eyes bloodshot and ready to unleash her fury because you slept through the chaos, making you the biggest jerk in the room.
Waking up early to the sound of the TV blaring again while the kids beg for another trip to the pool is the cherry on top. And breakfast? A sad spread of stale donuts and yogurt nearing its expiration date. Once the night is over, bags are packed, and the van is loaded, we hit the road again, pondering whether these family vacations are really worth the chaos.
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Summary
Sharing a hotel room with kids is a chaotic experience filled with noise, mess, and exhaustion. It’s a far cry from the serene family vacations depicted in movies. Instead, parents battle with tired children, pool demands, and endless bickering, all while navigating the challenges of cramped spaces. Despite the trials, these moments remind us of the joys and tribulations of family life.