Growing up as the youngest of seven, I often thought that I missed out on a lot. Though our parents had six kids in nine years, there was another nine years before I came along. At times, some people feel a need to point out that my mother's pregnancy with me was obviously unplanned.
I prefer to think that it was a pregnancy worth waiting for.
Anyway, I often heard stories about family vacations that I was never really a part of. Hiding a child under a blanket in the back seat so they didn't have to pay for an extra person at the camp ground. Fighting to get the seat behind the drivers seat, because our dad's hand couldn't reach back there to hit you while he was driving. Almost losing someone out of the back of the station wagon when the boat she was sitting in almost slid out onto the road.
No, I don't think that last one was a particularly good idea either. But, well, you know...hindsight and all that.
Everyone also does their own impression of our dad saying "If I have to pull this car over, there's going to be (four? five? six?) sorry little bastards in the back seat".
(I'd like to point out that this was many years ago, when threatening your children with physical harm and/or referring to them as little bastards were viewed as completely acceptable, and at times necessary, parenting tools).
By the time I came along, my siblings were old enough that there weren't any vacations with all of us. I never fought for the seat behind my dad, because there usually wasn't anyone for me to fight with. Of course, that also meant that he had no need to try to reach me while he was driving. I guess I should see this as a good thing.
But mostly, I couldn't help but feel that I missed out on something.
Last week, Jimmy and I took the kids on a short vacation. Several hours away. In our car. We drove home today. Several hours. In our car.
I'd just like to say: I no longer feel like I missed out on anything.
Our plan was to visit my cousin Rara in New Jersey (actually Rara is her real name. Well, kind of). Rara is more like my third sister than my cousin, which means that she feels almost as much of an obligation to put up with all of us as Caca and Aunt Lion do. She feeds us, and plays tour guide, and lets us swim in her pool. And then at night, she makes us drink with her. This part is obviously a hardship for Jimmy and I, but we figure it's the least we can do since she's so nice to us.
Since I had also told B that we could go see Elmo once B started using the potty, I figured we could do that on the way to Rara's.
Yeah. So, lesson #1: Nothing is really on the way to anything else. You may think it's on the way. But trust me, it is not on the way. Not really.
The night before we left, I packed our car full of an absolutely ridiculous amount of crap, and in the morning, we only left an hour later than we had planned. This is a record for us. Really.
I drove, though fortunately I had a lot of help. In fact, I had so much help, I don't know how I would have managed by myself. I mean, really, it's a miracle that I drive without help all week, and actually get to our destination and back again all by myself. Without help. You
OK, fine, so it was a little helpful when Jimmy realized we were in Wilmington.
When I would have sworn we were in Philly.
But you know, Delaware and Pennsylvania are really much closer to each other than I realized.
Lesson #2: Don't tell anyone where you think you are until you see a welcome sign.
The important thing is, we made it to Sesame Place.
On what I'm quite sure was the hottest day of the year.
Or maybe the hottest day on earth.
Ever.
It didn't matter though, because we were going to see Elmo. What's a little heat? So what if there are lines? With so many fun things to do, we won't even notice the heat.
Lesson #3: If your four-year-old tells you that he wants to see Elmo, don't assume that means that he gives two craps about rides, games, parades, or shows. Assume that he wants to see Elmo.
And that is all.
And don't assume that you won't care that it's the hottest day on earth. Ever.
You will care.
N, on the other hand, really didn't care. She went on the swings. She went on the big slides. She got her picture taken with Abby. She and I went on the roller coaster, which was bigger and faster than I realized, but did not make me throw up.
But it came damn close.
We all went on the tea cups. (Yes, all of us. Jimmy will deny that he was on the tea cups, but trooper that he is, he was there. And here it is. Documented for future generation to see. I think I even saw him smile. Once). O wasn't sure what to make of being forcefully spun around in circles, but when we asked him if he was having fun, he smiled and said "yeah", and then he went back to making a face that was somewhere between terror and nausea. In fact, Jimmy had the same face. It must be hereditary. B didn't make that face. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself, though it may have been because when you're moving at that speed, it feels like it's only ninety-seven degrees instead of one hundred and twelve). This was going to be our last ride, then we were going to see a show (in the air conditioning) and get on the road to Rara's. But then, as the ride was ending, B caught site of the picture studio nearby, and I knew we weren't quite done yet.
Because there, in the picture studio.....was Elmo.
So we waited in line some more, and as I stood there for what seemed like an hour, looking at Elmo as he greeted kid after kid after kid, and hugged them, and shook their hands, and got his picture taken with them, I realized something:
Elmo is freakin hot.
I mean, he had to have been roasting in that fury red suit.
B and O didn't care how hot he was. They just cared that he was Elmo. Finally, they were excited about something. B called out to him repeatedly while we waited in line, much to the annoyance of the people around us. O joined in, too. He no longer looked nauseous or filled with terror. This was Elmo. I think even N was a little excited, though she tried not to show it much. Finally, it was our turn. They were with Elmo. They shook his hand, and gave him five, and had their picture taken. And actually smiled.
All was right in their world.
Lesson #4: You just never know who you will be grateful to have in your life. This particular day, a hot guy in a fury red suit just happened to be my ticket out of hell.
We had a great few days with Rara. Caca and Uncle Edie were taking care of Bella for us, so we knew she was in good hands. We climbed a lighthouse, and swam in the pool, and visited with cousins. We also locked our keys in the car and spent an hour and a half trying to get the door open. And trying to remember the code to the key pad. Both of which eventually happened. In fact, at the exact moment that Jimmy managed to open the door with a coat hanger, I suddenly yelled out the code, which I have not actually used in five years. I thought this timing was quite amazing. Funny, even. I mean, what are the chances that, after Jimmy had spent an hour and a half trying to open the door, I would remember the code that I haven't used in five years at the exact moment that he got it open?
Lesson #5: Don't assume that your husband will find things as funny as you do. He won't.
Today, we headed home.
This time, though, the trip wasn't broken up by a stop at an amusement park.
This time, we had no leverage. No one could be bribed into behaving.
This time, we somehow got lost even though we have made this trip fifteen times, and it added on an extra hour.
This time, I walked in my father's shoes.
Or maybe I should say I drove in his seat.
Except that I didn't actually drive. Cause we figured I would need too much help.
So I looked out the window. And listened to that obnoxious woman's voice on the GPS. And wondered where the hell we were. And contemplated throwing that GPS woman out the window. And told the kids to be quiet. And to stop fighting. And to please not scream. And to keep their hands to themselves. And their feet, too. And to please stop picking their noses. And not to touch their siblings. Especially after picking their noses. But, no, that doesn't mean you can hit them if you haven't been picking your nose.
And Jimmy drove. I think I may have seen him trying to reach behind him a couple times. But, of course, everyone knows not to sit in that seat anyway. And I think I heard him say, just under his breath, "If I have to turn this car around...."
But he didn't turn the car around, of course. Because that would have taken even longer.
So we came home. And Bella was excited to see us. So, incredibly excited, in fact, that she greeted us in an exceptional way.
By pooping all over the kitchen floor.
So I cleaned up dog poop. And mopped the floor. And realized it was already bed time.
Even though the sun hadn't set yet.
And as I sat down, exhausted, in an eventually silent house, I realized that I didn't miss out after all.
Some people may say that this kind of vacation is obviously not planned.
I prefer to think that it was a vacation worth waiting for.
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