Monday, October 19, 2009
Let's see. I'm tired. So, I'll just begin at the beginning.
We find ourselves kicking off our family vacation with a health conscious stop at McDonald's. This would just lead to a trip filled with comments like, "So this is what fat people feel like. " and "I'm going on a diet the minute we get back."
So I'm noticing a significant mood in the car. We're already short tempered and irritated. Something tells me that traveling with four sick people is a bad, bad, bad idea. By all means, we should keep going.
Steve notices an annoying clicking in the back of the car -- far out of everyone's reach. Which of course means I have to obsess on it. It's his golf clubs rattling against my golf clubs and that is remarkably unromantic despite all literal appearances. This will continue for at least 8 hours. Thrilled.
Ahhhhhhh, the mountains west of Denver are a flocked wonderland. I'm thinking about breaking into song. Instead, there's some farting from the back. A real mood swindler.
We drive into Eisenhower tunnel. At which time Cooper announces, "I'm not even sweaty!"
Cooper starts to dance like his car seat is a friggin' hot plate. I wonder when he's going to tell us he needs to go to the bathroom.
We stop for gas and liberal bickering. We get lost. Well actually, Steve tells me to take an exit that is the wrong exit and I get illogically infuriated. People, I came undone.
Just as my less than peaceful mood subsides we pass a white flatbed parked in the middle of nowhere. No. Where. Atop the flatbed is a large, homemade (and poorly at that) particle board sign that yells, "JESUS SAVES!" Really? Where does he shop?
We pass a minivan with the bumper sticker, "If you don't love Jesus; Go to Hell!" I'd really like to get out of this part of the country, quickly.
We pass a few makeshift churches. You know the type... something that's a cross between a horse barn and a cable warehouse. Metal siding with a tin roof. Not inspiring and I realize I'm the type of person that cannot find spirituality in an ugly place. Cooper interupts my ponderings:
"Mommy can we sit on the clouds?
"Wouldn't that be so cool? We could look at the Earth."
Oh that's sweet, and rejuvenating, and innocently spiritual. I love him.
Cooper requires a side of the road pit stop. If you're wondering about Mason's bladder. Don't you worry. He has declared that potty training is not for him.
The grown ups make a pit stop. In an actual rest stop. Which I add as an afterthought, in the event that you think I am one of those types of people who can pee on the side of the road. Or on the side of anything. I am not. Clearly.
I back into the driveway of our vacation home. That was just fun to say. Call it a lie, if you must.
Just for the record, no one slept.
PHOTO NOTE: Cooper drew this picture in the car. It's a self portrait. He was very proud -- especially to point out the "private parts" he rendered for himself. Those would be the gigantic spheres drawn directly below his bellybutton on top of stick-thin legs. I think I'll hang onto that. He'll enjoy it so much when he's 23.