Weekend Getaway or Hellfire torture?

Tomorrow I will be on my way to Vegas. Driving. At midday. With my maniac driver husband behind the wheel and my four year old girls in the back.

I'm not quite sure what possessed me to think that all of us tagging along to his business trip would be a good idea. Mid-July. I must have been looking for an excuse to ask for time off from work or something. But now I'm committed. We're going. It's too bad I'm not as enthused as I used to be.

Right now I'm concerned with how I am going to keep the kids entertained without driving myself crazy. Alright, I know there are actually a lot of kid friendly activities in Vegas. And I'm not talking about Circus Circus, because I will have to be seriously desperate and Crazy Crazy to attempt that place. It's like one giant, noisy, screaming, crying, swine flu infested mess over there. With gawdy clowns. But besides Circus Circus, there are certainly other kid sights to visit. My problem is that visiting them will require leaving the air conditioned comfort of my hotel and actually going outside. In Vegas. Mid-July. Have you ever been to the desert in the middle of summer? I swear that it gets so hot that you feel like you can't breathe and that your lungs might actually spontaneously combust. That is, if your skin doesn't catch fire first. And then, when you go back inside the hotels where it is frosty cold, the temperature difference actually makes you feel sick and weak and light-headed. And if you think I'm being dramatic, wait until I start traipsing around with a couple of four year old girls.

My other concern, is exposing my young, impressionable daughters to all the drunkennakedcrazyvulgardirtygrossness of Vegas. You might think to yourself, surely with Kris as their mother, they are accustomed to all of that! But you would be wrong, for I am never drunk.

The Strip is a location, not an invitation.

I'm told that now even the Treasure Island Pirate show is risque. We plan to spend some time at the pool, but even that has me worried. Did you know they have topless pools? How will my self esteem survive when I'm lounging poolside with my flabalanche stuffed into my Momzilla bathing suit, alongside some bodacious breasted babes in bitty bikini bottoms? And how will I answer my girls when they ask why they don't have a top on? "Well, you see honey, those girls didn't have a Mommy or Daddy that gave them enough attention, so they grew up trying to get attention for their looks. And if you ever do that, I will lock you in your room until you're 30. Oh, would you look at the time? Time for a nap!"

Someone please tell me that those pools are all partitioned off so that I don't have boobs in my face all afternoon. I mean, if that's how I wanted to spend my day, I could just hang upside down without a bra.

I'll let you know next week whether it was a fun weekend getaway or a plunge into hell.