A couple of weekends ago we went away - all of us. And I have still not recovered - for real. The suitcases have at least made their way upstairs at this point, but they are not unpacked. We need something from one of the bags, we go get it. Otherwise, they're all piled up in the baby's room - and tomorrow will be two weeks. Pathetic, I know.
We really never go away - on long trips, on short trips, on any vacations at all. And this, my friends, is why:
Notice, if you will, that the trunk of the van is so packed that we could not close the door without teamwork. I had to push the strollers in and quickly jump out of the way as Josh slammed the door shut before everything toppled out. And that was just the trunk. The inside of the car was so loaded that the boys almost couldn't climb into the back seat, and I couldn't climb back there to get a picture of it.
Was it moving day? No!
Were we taking a cross-country trip? Nope!
Were we fleeing New Jersey for a better life? No, again!
We were going away for the weekend. One night. We would be gone for not more than 30 hours and had any of our neighbors been watching Josh make no fewer than eight trips to the car to pack it up, they might have thought that we had no intention of returning this year, if ever.
And then we drove.
And drove some more.
Then the GPS said to make a left onto, I kid you not, "road".
So we did, and surprisingly, we got there.
In theory, this was a two hour trip. With kids, a three hour drive. We stopped for snacks, we stopped for the bathroom, we stopped to scratch itches, to take socks off, to put socks back on, to wipe noses, to blow noses and only once for a false-alarm-carsick-distress-signal.
So why did we go? Josh's school - teachers, students, everyone - goes away for one weekend each year, and every year since Josh started working there I have avoided this by either being pregnant or having a newborn. And this year, much to my mother's relief, I am neither and so this weekend had my name written all over it.
Our one night away consisted of only four stomachaches, three exploding diapers (it's almost like diapers dont work at a higher altitude), two vomiting episodes, and a partridge in a pear tree. I'm kidding. We looked but we did not see any pear trees at all, and I'll be honest, I'm not really sure what a partridge is.
Will we be going away again in the near future? Most likely not - not because going away would mean I would have to pack again, but more because unpacking and I don't get along. Also because, and I cannot confirm this, but if we ever come back to that hotel, we will most likely find our pictures hanging on the wall. When they recognize us, we will be promptly escorted off the premises. Why, you ask? Because after our time there, our lovely adjoining rooms named 702 and 703 (but more 703) will never be the same. Fruit Loops and brownies were ground into the carpet, furniture was stacked, the plastic covers on the little Hunt's Chocolate Puddings were shoved down radiators and we are not quite sure where the receiver is from the phone in 703. We are not celebrities ransacking a room. This is somewhat normal behavior in a home filled with many young children. However, said behavior is not so normal in a hotel. And that my friends, is the real reason we don't go away. In our house, we have radiator covers and cordless phones so things like this don't happen.
It was an experience, one that I am not looking to repeat again that fast. But in the end, I will admit, fun was had by all.
Are you a Mom?
Of course you are,
your shirt is dirty :)