Our family was divided this weekend covering two swim meets in two cities.

 
I had the option of booking a hotel for Ellie, Chloe and myself or the slam-dunk better idea, staying with friends I don’t see often enough and relaxing in their home rather than in a stuffy hotel.

 
Our visit was great and our friends went out of their way to make us feel welcome, hiding their spelt flour baked goods in the back of the cupboard and even buying milk that comes from an animal rather than a legume which I know is against their food-religion.

 
I knew we had made the right decision. Staying in a home has so many advantages over a hotel. Aside from the personal connection to the hosts, there’s the space, the places to sit and set things, the lack of floral and paisley floor runners.

 
You don’t worry about tearing off the bedspread the second you walk into their guest room the way you do in a hotel. You don’t steal the shampoo (at least not that they’ve discovered).

 
It. Is. Relaxing.

 
Until that is, our 5am wake-up call. Wait, there is no wake-up call, this is someone’s house. What were we thinking?!

 
I guess I should have done a trial run on how to turn my cell phone into an alarm clock (what other features does this thing have? Will it fill my car with wiper fluid?) before going away overnight.

 
The great part is, the cell phone alarm is a real thing and it does work. The bad part is I didn’t believe it would, so I spent the night looking at the blank screen on the phone wondering how this piece of plastic that was powered off would ever be able to wake me up on time. Why did I give this little device so much control over my life’s happiness?

 
Then it was time to officially accept we had to get up. I knew this would happen but had I really thought this part of the day through?

 
In a hotel, after the wake-up call, you thank Pitbull for the phone call and the first thing you do is begin to make noise.

 
You might even turn on a light, close a bathroom door, run some water.

 
You can’t do ANY of those things at your friend’s house at 5am because that would make you a terrible friend so instead, you stand dangerously close to your 8 year old and try to sense the direction they are facing from within a darkened room. Then you whisper just once, “Don’t say a word. Just walk out the door.”

 
Your child shakes in agreement hoping the voice they are hearing is yours and they follow your lead except everything the two of you do seems to echo throughout the house.

 
I brought a container of oatmeal to make myself for breakfast and I couldn’t even reach into the crinkly bag to get it let alone hunt through someone’s pots and pans cupboard for a kettle to boil water.

 
Even though we tiptoed through that place like Ninjas, I have no doubt the tooth brushing was amplified and every opportunity we took to keep a light off meant stumbling that much louder down their stairs and disturbing their slumber.

 
Chloe woke up and asked for a glass of water.

 
I always carry Band-Aids in my pocket because Band-Aids seem to help in just about any emergency situation. Why didn’t I travel with a stack of cups?

Sorry to my hosts.

We didn’t even leave a tip!