Previously, on the “Chick Writes Stuff” blog…
Parent 1: “Hey, let’s take a road trip in our tiny car with two small children and an aging dog!”
Parent 2: “Brilliant!”
Thirty seconds after leaving the driveway…
Parent 1: “This is awful.”
Parent 2: “This is the worst idea we’ve ever had.”
One hour later…
Parent 1: “JUST THROW MORE DORITOS AT THEM!”
Parent 2: “IT’S NOT WORKING! THEY’RE DODGING THEM! OH GOD, WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!”
(Read Part One here)
One week later…
Hello, everyone. How are you? Good. Good. Glad to hear it. …Oh, me? I’m…fine. Everything’s fine. Just sitting here calmly at my computer, typing industriously away. Because everything is fine…now.
Plus the doctors say the constant twitching of my left eye should taper off any day now so there’s that.
Of course, in hindsight, it wasn’t like our trip was ALL bad. There was a swimming pool at our hotel. That was fun. And I was smart enough to bring wine with us. That was REALLY fun. Yup. Really, really fun all the way until…bedtime.
Have you ever been unfortunate enough to sleep in the same bed as your child? What am I saying? Of course you have. You’re a parent. Which means that you already know that when children are small (and sometimes even the not-so-small ones), there is nothing they love more than sleeping with one foot up a parent’s nose and the other shoved in-between some parental ribs. They are also big fans of the game Musical Bed Positions. Because if they don’t move every three minutes while sleeping they die. At least that’s what I’m assuming based on the evidence.
And then there is the 2 a.m. stage whisper of “Momma! Is it morning yet?” Which wakes up their sibling, who also stage whispers “It’s morning! Can we get up? I need juice! And a cookie!” Which makes the other one go “I WANT A COOKIE TOO!” Which results in a dual meltdown after they are both informed by a gruff parent voice that NO ONE is getting a cookie and everyone needs to go back to sleep.
But it’s all worth it when you are forced awake again at 5 a.m. by your child’s creepy ghost face breathing heavily a mere half-inch from your face and then have to immediately deal with the fact they don’t understand live TV.
“Momma! Turn on the TV!”
“(sleepily) mm-kay.”
“What is this?”
“A commercial.”
“Can you fast forward it?”
“No.”
“Can we watch a different episode?”
“No.”
“Can we watch a different show?”
“Only if you want to flip through 40 channels three times to find something else with no guarantee of finding something better.”
“Well, this isn’t fun.”
“You never would have survived the ‘80’s, kid.”
I really shouldn’t complain, though. The end result of all this was that we got to spend a wonderful week with my family in Ohio. Doing exotic things like napping while someone else kept our kids alive and eating homemade food someone else made and thoroughly enjoying those little moments where someone else yelled at our kids.
It was like a Norman Rockwell painting. But with more screaming and hitting.
Except I am going to complain. Because when it was all over…we had to come back.
I was determined though, DETERMINED, to make the best of it this time. Even with the awful snowstorm we drove through for three hours. And the windshield wipers that started malfunctioning. And the unsalted road before us that became a super fun slippery asphalt coil of death!
Hahahahaha! Road trips, man! Such a great American tradition! Right!? RIGHT!? They’re just the best! Hahahahaha!
The good news is that after what seemed like two hours past eternity, we finally arrived to our beloved home, with all our hearts and bladders full to bursting.
Only to find out that we did not currently have a toilet in said beloved home because the bathroom remodel the landlord scheduled while we were gone wasn’t finished yet.
But that, my dear friends, is a story I’m saving for my lawyer when I inevitably snap and start running naked through the streets laughing maniacally.
Chick Writes Stuff 