You would think we’d have learned from our beach trip. But, no, we are gluttons for punishment. So, when invited to visit with family we cheerily agreed to the 3.5 hour drive for a 36-hour stay. After all, it will be fun to change up our routine and there will be extra adults to help if we’re tired upon arrival.
IF?? What were we thinking?! Let’s just say, the ride is supposed to take 3.5 hours but it took us 6. And tired doesn’t begin to describe our state. Exhaustion or a stupor would be better descriptors.
By the morning of departure nothing had been packed yet. There were a variety of reasons, but the end result was the same. I was to pack for the five of us in between school drop-off/pick-up, nursing, naps for the babies, lunch, and picking Spencer up at work on our way out of town. Mind you, the final piece was a 2:30pm pick-up, and my brainchild, so I own that insanity.
The morning unfolded as you might imagine. It was a flurry of diaper changes, feedings, outfit changes from spit-up, haphazard packing, more diaper changes, cajoling with a three year old…the list goes on.
In the end, we were on the road and headed to my Mom’s in daylight. This last piece is key because Twincy hates riding in the car when it’s dark. Aside from that, she seems to like being in the car.
FAMOUS LAST WORDS. At least one of the three kids was crying almost the entire ride. We stopped 8 times (no, that’s not a typo) and actually contemplated turning around at one point. Yet, we pushed on and the two most memorable moments were as follows:
- You know it’s a blowout when…Your husband throws you a hat as the first supply item. Yup, that’s what I said. Twinjay had such a wild explosion that it went through all her clothes right onto the carseat. Since the car was packed full, and the smell surely would have caused an even bigger riot with our less-than-pleased travelers, we had to change her outside. We found an unsuspecting neighborhood and “dropped trou”. Literally, Twinjay was stripped down on the grass (except for said hat) and “bathed” armpit-to-ankle as well as wipes can do. It was insane. The changing pad didn’t survive the experience.
- So, you’ve reached your limit.
Elliana’s nap was cut short due to her sisters’ wailing. Even so, she was managing rather well until I heard a scream from the back seat. I turned to see her with a blanket over her head. Sobs, muffled at first, began pouring out as I asked what the problem was. My error, of course, was that I assumed she had just hit her limit of what she could tolerate for this carride. Instead, I learned what had really happened.
Elliana: “A cheetah just bit my finger and it really hurts!” she cried.
And, like only a three-year-old can, she continued to produce a surplus of tears as she bemoaned the trauma.
By the time we arrived it was pitch black outside. We had family waiting in the driveway to help us instantly eject from the vehicle. Suffice it to say, we have no road trips planned for the near future.