Bright and early yesterday morn I jetted off on a week long family adventure with my extended family. Honey and the PCP stayed behind to hold down the fort so the baby and I caught a ride to Tampa with Sister, her Mister and Bird. When I say there wasn’t room for one.more.thing in that car, I’m telling the truth. Tampa or bust – in multiple senses of the phrase.
Any of you that have been hanging about this blog for a while know that my children can really cause a scene (a few of my personal favorites, for lack of a better word – the car dealer, the mittens, the lego and the doctor). I assure you that this trip was no different. When we stopped at Chick fil A for lunch I proclaimed “Cookie isn’t going to be stepping foot on that playground if there are questionable types milling around.” Approximately three minutes later Sister’s Mister doused us with not one but TWO large sweet teas, Bird had taken off his shoe and refused to remove it from the table and Cookie was hanging over our booth dazzling the poor souls on the other side with a mouth chocked full of waffle fries. And, at that very moment, it dawned on me that I was the sketchy person in the roadside restaurant.
At this point, we’re two hours into the trip and the baby uses his Bob the Builder wrench to open his car door while flying down the highway. Nobody falls out and we make note to put the child lock on his door at our next stop. Aaaaaand, that next stop happened approximately twenty minutes later when the baby whispers “I needa poopie.” Let’s just say it’s a darned good thing we heard him over the racket of Bird banging everything in sight with the Bob the Builder hammer, Cars II blaring on the DVD player and rain beating down on the car. While Cookie takes care of some mean business at the first Florida rest stop, Bird soaks his shorts rolling in the freshly rained on grass. So, we continue our trip with fresh squeezed orange juices and the Bird in nothing but a bare diaper.
Just a little ways down the road we stop yet again…this time for Starbucks and an adult potty break. We nearly left the establishment unscathed, but then Sister’s Mister inadvertently got us stuck in the long, non-exitable drive through line when trying to make a quick departure from the parking lot. Shortly thereafter, the babies pass out. Hallelujah!
And I’m left to enjoy my skinny vanilla latte while I laugh-so-hard-I-cry at Bossypants. A glorious yet fleeting few minutes.
When we pull in my Aunt’s driveway, we hop out of the car and I immediately pull down the baby’s shorts to rip off his diaper. I mean, I don’t want my newly potty trained child to get too comfortable in the thing. Much to my regret, said diaper is FULL of more poopies that are now everywhere. On his leg, on his foot, on his shorts. UGH. So I lay him out in the driveway and set to work cleaning him up, stopping only to wave hello to the nice looking neighbors walking down the street and trying not to stare. At long last, we ring the door bell with TWO babies clad in their bare diapers. Talk about country come to town. (I will spare you a picture of this incident.)
Ringing ears and lack of pants aside, in the end we made it safe and sound and full of funny stories of our eight hour adventure. We enjoyed a scrumptious and so-Southern bbq and apple pie supper and caught up with our family over plum wine once the littles were tucked in their beds.
Life is good!