Quips and Quirks: Episode One

Who's going to read this? Who's going to want to read this? Well, I don't know. It's hard to say. So if you find yourself reading about my quirky ways, then I guess this blog is for you!

So yesterday, we (that's me, my husband, Hudson, and our two boys, Hayden and Owen) drove home from Minnesota...yep, Minnesota back to Texas. Now you may be wondering what on earth would possess me to take a 1,000 mile trip with the kids in the car. I asked myself this same question several times on the way up there and the way home. It's simple really. We wanted to visit my sister and her family who live there. It was a LOOOOOOONG drive. And I have some general observations about long drives.

First, the car gets smaller and smaller no matter how organized I try to pack things. Oh not the suitcases and stuff that goes in the trunk (or the very back of the SUV in our case)...I'm talking about the toys, the food bag, the books, the map, the bag of surprises for the kids when they need something new to play with, etc. It seems like this stuff all goes in the car in an organized, neat manner but within minutes, it explodes and multiplies and you find yourself digging for toys in the food bag by the time the trip is over. Oh who am I kidding? That happens before we even get out of our neighborhood. And the trash, where does it all come from? Next trip, we'll probably just pull our big blue Fort Worth trash bin behind the car. And why does it all end up in the front of the car next to my feet? I had to resort to sitting crisscross applesauce (for those of us raised in the 70s when sitting "Indian style" wasn't offensive to anyone, that's what crisscross applesauce means) for the majority of the trip to make room for all of our exploding travel goodies. By the time we got to Minnesota, I felt like someone was secretly taping an episode of "Hoarders: Buried Alive" from the inside of our car

Second, kids do not want to go to the bathroom when the adults stop the car for gas or food. Oh they'll go. But they'll be refusing to go all the way until they are actually going. And, everyone at whatever location you've stopped will hear you arguing with your kids about going to the bathroom, and you will learn to do this while smiling and shrugging your shoulders at complete strangers. And really it doesn't matter anyway because even after they go, 30 minutes later they'll need to go again and at this point in the 1,000 mile trip, there will be no place to stop. Well, except that Dairy Queen with the toilet seat that is too small for a public toilet and is made out of that disgusting cushy plastic. (These toilet seats are a travesty in any home but in a public restroom they are just wacky and unexpected and quite possibly the germiest piece of public bathroom equipment one will ever come across. Thank God for antibacterial wipes. And thank God for suppressing the gag reflex while said seat is wiped down.) Oh and did I mention that the kid that needed us to drive 5 miles off the interstate to find this desperately needed bathroom proudly told me while sitting on the toilet that it was "only a toot that was in there, Mom." Great just great.

Third, GPS devices lie. It's a proven fact. Ask anyone who has travelled with one. Now, being raised by a Dad who used a real map (those big fold out ones that you can never fold back correctly), we had a handy atlas with us to guide us on our way. (Please don't tell anyone that we had to buy it at a truck stop after I started second-guessing the printed directions and the GPS lady. However, at this point in the trip though, we still believed her.) I love the big ol' atlas. You can see where you are immediately thanks to mile markers and there's a sense of accomplishment when you watch the mile markers lead you to a point on the map and then you pass through it. It made me feel like Joey in that "Friends" episode when they were in London and he had to actually stand on the map in order to figure out where he was. I can totally relate to that. (I warned you I'm quirky.) Sorry, I digress.

Twenty minutes from my sister's house in Minneapolis and our friendly GPS lady decided to get all confused and turned around. She couldn't figure out what exit we were supposed to take and then when she would decide, we would be passing the exit and unless we wanted to drive head first into a concrete wall, we would have no other choice but to skip the exit all together. Recalculating. Then, she would tell us to take an exit only for her to tell us "stay on the current road" after we had exited. Trying not to curse in this situation was a feat that proved to be impossible. Recalculating. So we had no choice but to turn her off and go back to the printed directions which turned out to be spot on. (Well sort of...it took us on these back roads with a million stop lights but hey...we made it there and that's what matters.)

Fourth, kids have changed the phrase "are we there yet?" to "how many more hours?" TV shows have showed kids that parents are immune to the "are we there yet?" question so they have chosen the latter phrase to annoy the boloney (I know that isn't spelled correctly but bologna is just wrong wrong wrong) out of them. I don't know how many times we answered this question on the trip but I do know that our kids are no longer at the age where you can tell them any number and expect them not to remember what you told them the next time they ask. Shoot.

Fifth and lastly...since you're probably getting sick of my travel tips. McDonald's is a happy, all-American welcome sign while traveling. Oh I know it's not the healthiest thing we could eat while traveling and that I should have packed tofu sandwiches sprinkled with sprouts and hummus but seriously, there is something about long road trips that scream "FRENCH FRIES!" Their food is predictable and tasty and no one will leave there wishing that there was just something on the menu that they liked. Now I will say that the grease and blah feeling will catch up with you at some point and make you regret the day you took the exit with the Golden Arches but in that moment, happiness is had by all. (Until you have to visit a McDonald's bathroom and guesstimate its last scrubbing was in 1996. My advice in this situation, do not look at the floor in the bathroom under any circumstance and allow no part of your skin to touch anything. And also, vow that on your next trip you'll bring Lysol to spray on the soles of your shoes before getting back into the car.) But oh how good the Diet Coke tastes from McDonald's whether you're in Texas or Kansas or Minnesota. And if you're lucky, you may leave with a toy. How great is that?

Until next time...I'm okay with being quirky. :)