I was the mother in Spain snarling, almost, at her 12 year old daughter about not being a spoiled, ungrateful little wretch whilst we were having an impromptu guided tour by the owner... the actual owner... of the city's zoo, all because he'd been enchanted by her 4 year old brother's awe-struck glee at being separated from animals by (very thick) windows. Whilst my son pranced about, listening avidly to every word the lovely man told us (well, my son, really) about the different animals, and their personalities, and actually got to hold a baby Chimpanzee... my daughter flounced and glowered, and literally sulked because it wasn't her getting the attention. It was our first holiday as a single-parent family, and I'd deliberately included her in the planning of it - and she was the one who insisted that we go to the (very animal/visitor friendly, lovely place, totally into conservation of the various species...) zoo, to surprise her little brother. She was stroppy for most of the holiday, though, because I'd borrowed my brother's self-catering time-share and not booked an expensive, 5 star hotel...
And then there was the holiday to Devon a few years later, when she was 17, and not only did she strop about being on the beach, but also about not being on the beach. To this day, I'm still not entirely sure what she wanted to do - maybe stand halfway between the beach and empty fields, all day, every day? Her brother, who was 9 on that holiday, had the worst migraine he's ever had for the first 4 days of our 7.5 day holiday, and I spent a vast portion of the time locked in a dark room with him, worried out of my mind as I was clung to, cried on, and puked over. We also spent a day in the local hospital's A&E department, because at one point the migraine shut my son's ability to not hallucinate/to recognise me as his mum. I got a speeding ticket that day, too, because of getting him to the local hospital...
Oh, and then there was the Disney holiday!!! My son was 8 at this point, my daughter 16, and she stropped because I took a photograph of them both with Mickey Mouse. For three whole days. Oh, and many tantrums were thrown by them both about the length of queues, the people who kept barging into us in the queues, the fact that my mother was there... and she was a nightmare, too, but that's not what this thread is about.
In short, I've refused to go on holiday with any of them since 2014. My daughter's now 22 and has the ability to go on long-haul holidays without me (yay!) - which she then does nothing but complain about to me, whilst she's there, via 'e'mail... and my 13 year old son is happier slumped somewhere at home, with the Wifi and his games console, following long lie-ins that sometimes result in his missing lunch. My mother's tried to entice me into taking both offspring on holiday with her and my father, a few times, but quite honestly? I think I'd end up murdering them all just so that I could get a few moments of peace and solitude... so I've always refused. This way, everyone gets what they want (which for me, is no one complaining about being somewhere that they don't want to be, when I've spent a small fortune paying for them to be there!)
And blimey, but that was cathartic!