Weary Travelers

Friday was the start of a long holiday weekend. It was pouring rain. The drive to SoCal took five and a half hours. Tuesday, once everyone had returned to school or work, was absolutely gorgeous. It took nine hours to get home.

We’re finally home. I’d planned to update you, all my faithful readers, on our trip last night. But our return became a full day’s adventure.

7:15 a.m.: The muppets and I bid adieu to weeping grandparents.

7:30 a.m.: The three of us visited briefly with an old friend, her little munchkin and munchkin-to-be, and enjoyed some nice warm bottles of milk.

9:00 a.m.: We arrived at G.G.’s house to dine on a delicious breakfast of pears and bask in the glow of some last minute doting.

11:00 a.m.: Time to hit the road – the wheels on the car go round and round.

1:00 p.m.: The wheels on the car are not going round and round. Logan begins to express displeasure for this particular journey. The muppets are tired, but not sleeping.

1:30 p.m.: We’re moving forward, but sadly without need for use of the gas pedal. Logan decides this is a problem best solved with food, so I promise them we’ll break for a snack. A green highway sign overhead shares that the next exit is one mile down the road.

2:00 p.m.: We finally approach the exit. I will the traffic ahead to make good use of the accelerator while preparing bottles for the boys. Both muppets protest a return to their carseats.

2:30 p.m.: Arrival in Santa Barbara. (I usually pass the “Big Yellow House” an hour and a half into this journey.)

3:30 p.m.: Caden begins to whine. Logan agrees with Caden. Numerous kamikaze bugs commit hari kari on the windshield.

4:00 p.m.: Pismo Beach looks like an inviting rest stop. I choose a grassy knoll at a Hilton Garden Inn overlooking the Pacific Ocean and set up a family picnic. In a setting fitting a Hollywood movie, we dine on peas under palm trees as we gaze out over the sparkling blue water shimmering in the distance. Logan rolls around in the sunshine, while Caden tries to disassemble his carseat.

5:00 p.m.: Halfway home! (This is the time we thought we’d arrive.)

6:00 p.m.: GrampaStavo starts to panic that we’re not home yet. Caden is wailing in the backseat.

8:00 p.m.: Never such a welcoming house have our eyes ever seen before. The muppets are sound asleep as we pull into our driveway. With sleep filled eyes, Caden curls up into Daddy’s arms.

“I missed you!” Jon cooed over the muppets as he doused them with kisses. I began to unload the car while Jon prepared milk and oatmeal. Caden began to cry again. By the time I got back into the house, we were experiencing our first full-blown tantrum.

Caden was screaming and squealing in his ExerSaucer as he jumped up and down. “I. AM. HUNGRY! I. AM. TIRED! I. AM. NEVER. EVER. NEVER. GETTING IN THAT CARSEAT AGAIN. MY DAY SUCKED!!! MY TEETH HURT!!!” Crocodile tears streamed from his bloodshot red eyes, down his chubby little chipmunk cheeks. His bottom lip jutted out in a full pout.

He didn’t even make through the appetizer course of milk before he passed out in Jon’s arms.

After we put the two of them to bed, where they immediately flipped onto their tummies and embraced the familiarity and comfort of their own beds, I returned downstairs to share the stories of our adventure. I stared at the computer screen, mesmerized by the blinking cursor.

Well, I’ll just leave them anticipating the next installment, I thought. I was sound asleep by 9:00 p.m., dreaming dreams that my butt was no longer molded to the precise shape of my car seat.

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3 responses to “Weary Travelers

  1. they say that a man is a real man only when he can show his true feelings, well…let me tell you after i spent two days with my two wonderfull boys i can honestly say : i must be a SUPERMAN , thank you Tricia for the long trip ciao tutti
    gtavo

  2. I like that Grandpa Stavo is no longer writing under Grandma J’s name. So sorry the trip home was a nightmare! Better that way than the reverse, though. Welcome home. I know everyone was super glad to see all 3 of you. You are one brave woman, Tricia!

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