The Trip From Hell

Well, it's summer time - you know, when kids (and I have a gaggle of them, or would it be a passel? Whatever) are not in school, bored and generally suffering from insanity. Bored kids are dangerous (two words - fingernail polish) If you're not careful, an experiement gone wrong could burn your garage down. I remember summer as lazy time, sleeping in, no homework, etc, not as a time to learn what items in the garage are flammable, and which ones blow up. Someone whose name I won't mention (but you know who you are) got the boys some sort of book dedicated to driving a mother crazy, and it included many interesting shop experiments that last summer, my hellions ... improved upon, we'll say. Well, long story short, burn marks on a garage floor stay there pretty much forever. Especially if they're from paint thinner.

So, my mother calls me and asks to keep the kids for some time this summer. "All the kids, or just the oldest three?" I ask her.

"No, all of them, of course! How does a week sound?"

Well, it sounds like a little slice of heaven, that's what it sounds like, Mother! "A week sounds fine, Mom." I explained to her that my children, being bright, precocious, and inquisitive (and with very little verbal filters) might be a bit of a handful, but she brushed off my concerns. "You made it to adulthood just fine. I'm sure I can handle them.". Okaaaaaay, then. I've given my token protest, the consequences of ignoring me are on you then.

I told my honey and he promptly requested vacation for that time. Why vacation when the kids are gone, you ask? If you have more than two kids, you would never ask that, so anyone who questions that either has 1) no kids, 2) one kid, 3) two kids, or 4) no sanity left, and therefore the question is moot. (I find your question invalid *stamp!*) "It's going to be a real vacation," he says, gleefully, "No kids!" Now, I can get behind reasoning like that, so I took a vacation too and mentioned that we might be able to actually get the garage cleaned up since we were both taking vacation. (And he's the one who wants the garage cleaned out, I'm not a total bitch!)

My family all live over an hour away (or two) which is really about the perfect distance, time wise, for me - close enough so the kids don't forget what my family looks like, far enough away to discourage 'pop in visits,' so my step-dad and I made arrangements to meet halfway. Oh, and switch cars, since they don't have a vehicle that holds all my kids, let alone transports them correctly. (We're a staunch seat-belt family, what can I say.)

The V day arrives, and I have a shit-ton of crap to get done. I worked the night before, so I had to schedule sleep. I have my boys to pick up, since this is the beginning my summertime with them and the end of their dad's. I have the girls' packing to complete, with diapers and toys, and I have errands that need run, including a meeting with an attorney. Put gas in the van, get sippy cups and drinks, make coffee. And, my most fervent wish is for world peace! (smile, wave, etc) It almost seems an impossible task to accomplish in a 8 hour window, but I shall overcome! For my kids. Well, and so that I can get rid of them.

Sleep for two hours. Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Ok, ok, I'm awake! Drive half an hour, pick, up boys, drive half an hour back, start packing. "Pumpkin, you don't have to try on every outfit, how can I pack? ... What do you mean these pants don't match this shirt? Of course they do, jean shorts match everything! ...No, you can't wear a princess dress to visit Mamau and Papau, it's a long ride ... Pumpkin, why don't you go pick some toys for you and your baby sister?" Ok, packing done, errands to run. Two hours later, I'm back, And I check my phone. A text from my mom, a text from my step-dad, and a text from my cousin, all saying about the same thing, when is this circus starting, because I am the ringleader. Does it come with a hat? I want the hat, dammit! Ladies and gentleman, let me welcome you to the Event of the Century! The car trip from hell! Cram six hungry kids in a mini-van, drive them for an hour, and then cry because they're gone! Step right up! Get your tickets at the door!

Now, Dad and I are meeting about halfway there, an hour each way. I have finished everything else by then, so I text my cousin, she arranges to drop off her boy, and I send a text to my mom that we're getting ready to leave, and I'll text again when I'm leaving. My cousin drops off her boy (the pony, because he's well-behaved, unlike my brood!) I get a text that my step-dad has already left. Seriously?!? Communications problems, he turns back. Or so I think. I bullshit with my cousin, and finish packing the damn van. (Circus music playing in the background.) Okay, we're ready. No gas, and we all need to eat. I send a text to my mom that we're leaving. She sends one back to not text and drive. (More circus music) GDMF! I am not texting and driving, we are still in the driveway! That was one of the purposes to the pre-driving info! (Da da dadada da da da da da!) Stop nagging me!

And we're off! On the road, hitting the trail, on the move, we are making like trees and getting out of Dodge! We're.... finally out of here. Me and six kids, in tin can, driving. McDonald's here we come, because road trips require Mickey Dee's to quiet the hungry beasts. So, I plan to stop 15 minutes down the road. "No, we're listening to my music, not yours! That's what God made MP3 players for, put in your earphones!" My 4-year old (the giraffe, because she reaches things like nobody's business) wants it louder. That's my girl! Crank it up, watch the teenagers put in their earbuds, trying to escape the 80's. Classic!

15 minutes go by, the exit I want comes up. Shit, no McDonald's. I could have sworn there were golden arches there, but there isn't. "Ok," I tell the kids, especially my slightly-carsick youngest son (the elephant of this circus) "New plan, we'll stop in 20 minutes." He tells me he can make it 20 minutes. We make it to the 15 minute mark, and we get a text from Dad, he's there. Fuck! We're still a half hour away, away, at least, and I'll need to stop and get gas. My 16-year-old-non-cell-phone-using navigator (the lion, he has a long mane) gets designated to send a text to let him know we're still a while away. Halfway through the text, (five minutes later! Jeesh!) I grab the phone, and call Dad. We would have been there before he finished the text. If I've told my son once, I've told him a thousand times, learn to text or I'm revoking his teenager status. Does he listen? Of course not! Sheesh!

Ok, we get to the town where we had planned to stop for food. I see every kind of fast food know to man, no golden arches. We drive around, and my middle son (the alligator, smiling as he lies) says that he wants Taco Bell. I tell him no (shaved lettuce + car + small kids = crazy!) and he gets a chant going: We want food! We want food! Even the baby (we'll go chimpanzee on that one) was in on it, although she had absolutely no idea what she was chanting. "Shut it, peanut gallery," had no effect, so, "Quit that shit! You know, you're going to be gone for a week, and unless you want to come home to an empty bedroom with no electronics, I suggest you be quiet, and quiet the other circus dwellers as well!" My mother always told me you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, and I have to agree. Take that, flies! Now, after searching in vain next to the highway, I pull over and check the phone nav apps. Found it! Less than a mile away, I thought it was around here.

I follow the directions, and come across... a plywood-cutout of a McDonald's, with 'COME SEE US IN SEPT!' Are you fucking shitting me! Well, I'm not waiting until September. No way! The next-closest one is ten minutes away in downtown. Fuck that! We're on a time crunch as it is. We get gas (No, we're not getting drinks, kids... because I said so, that's why!) and drive 20 more minutes (Sorry, son, if you have to spew, spew in this!) and finally get to McDonald's. That hour in the car lasted sixteen, though some Rocky-Horror-Picture-Show-Time-Warp, I'm sure of it. "Bye, kids! Have fun! Love you!" Mommy certainly will! And I'm giving back the damn hat!

Ans, yes, I cried.