Are We There Yet? How About Now?

Now that we've been home a few weeks, I'm almost over the trauma that comes with taking long car trips with kids. Although mine are pretty well behaved all things considered, here are my top 5 reasons why travelling long distances in a car sucks.

5. The Bickering. You know how your kids fight over stupid shit all the time? (And let's face it, it's usually totally trivial crap that gets them wound up.) When you're at home you can leave the room, the house, the state, whatever helps you cope with those pesky tattling arguements your kids are prone to have.

"Mom, he touched my book!" "Nuh-uh, Mom, she's lying!" "I'm not lying, YOU'RE lying and I'm telling Mom. Mom, he's lying!"

Yes, you might love those kids, but when they start their sibling bickering, you want to knock their heads together, three stooges style. In a car, there's no escaping this. For 18 hours. In a row. (Okay, well technically it was 9 and 9 since we split the driving into 2 days. But still.)

4. Lack of Space. Not only have you crammed your family into a sardine can, but all of your luggage too. Plus the dvd players for the kids. And the snacks. And the cooler with the drinks. And the travel pillows, travel blankets, tissues, iPhones, portable game systems, and the navigation system. By the time you fit all the stuff in, you barely have room for the people. Which isn't great considering you're about to spend 20 hours in this space. It basically turns into Twister: Travel edition.

"Left hand, passenger window!"
"Right foot, back of Dad's head. Oops, sorry Mom."

3. Crumbs, Crumbs, Everywhere. When you're taking a long car trip, eating in the car is inevitable. And because I haven't gotten off my ass and invented the travel bubble that will vacuum suck each crumb out of thin air and away from my precious car floors and seats, there's going to be a mess. Probably a smushed teddy graham or a mashed cheez-it or two. (Oh come on, like I pack healthy snacks for travelling? Not likely. And if you want to know why, see reason 1.)

But the irony in this situation? We clean the car before we leave. Yup, I figure if I'm going to spend a day in my car, it's going to be a clean day dammit. By the time we get to our destination, the poor car has more crumbs and juice in it than the kids do and needs another cleaning. Eh, C'est La Vie, right?

2. Everyone Knows Everyone's Business. Yes, it's kind of hard to have sexy talk with the hubster with all those ears in the backseat. Not that we do anything like that, mind you. Nope, boring old spinster spouses, that's what we are. Move along, nothing to see here.

Lack of sexy talk aside, you can't have any private conversations in a car. You might as well just play The Lorax 12 times, because there's not going to be any juicy gossip for another 16 hours, 27 minutes, and 14 seconds.

"Oh, my, God. I forgot to tell you about Janet and the fact that she's cheat......cheering for her kids to do well on exams next month. Yup, that Janet, she's a pip alright."

"Hey, that mole you found on my ti....ticklish tummy, yeah, turns out it was a piece of dark chocolate. I've got to stop scarfing chocolate over my v-neck tee shirts."

And DRUM ROLL please..........

1. Oh The Wonderful Smells You'll Smell. Or not. Because farts don't smell like roses. Yeah, I'm talking to you my 7 year old son. Do you know how we figured out it was you who "dealt it"? Because you started laughing, completely out of the blue. And when asked if it was you, in between those bursts of laughter, you managed to maintain that it wasn't you because your farts smell like roses. Uh, nope, they don't. Today they smell like roadkill and moldy cheese. Or at least what I imagine these things would smell like if they were combined and fell out of your butt in a noxious smell cloud.

But it's not just farts. Nuh uh. Bad breath, body odor, sweat....all these little smells locked into an airtight canister of family funkiness. Ok, so it's not airtight, but still. Roll a window (or 4) down already. Geez kid, what did you eat last? The ass end of a rhino? GOOD LORD, the smell! My eyes are watering. Don't breathe it in! For the love of all that's holy....oh, that's NASTY. It has a TASTE. I think I'm going to be sick.

Ha ha ha,,,get it?

Navigating the Nap Time Minefield

So you're little bundle of joy is exhausted/sick/cranky/all of the above and you are desperate to get him or her to just TAKE A NAP ALREADY!!! Yet there seems to be some sort of direct correlation between how badly you want them to sleep and how hard they fight against the process. Is it some sort of infant radar? Here's the modern mom mayhem Guide To Dealing With The Nap Time Minefield:

Step one: Gather all the child's favorite nap time paraphernalia. This might include such things as a blankie, a binky, a sippy, a stuffy, a wubby, a nubby, or a bubby. Alright, I don't know what some of those are, I just made them up. After gathering all assorted items, track down the baby (I'm hoping you don't have to search that hard as this would be a little worrisome to me) and gather the cute (STINKY) bundle of joy as well.

Step two: De-stinkify the child. Nobody wants to take a nap with a load in their pants. Ok, well actually, from all my research, babies and toddlers don't really seem to mind this that much. Their parents seem more concerned than the kids sitting with the turd in their britches. You'd think this would be the opposite but maybe after you spend months sitting in your own poopie pants it starts to become a non-issue. Even if said bouncing bundle of joy doesn't have a foul stench emanating from the diaper area, you might still want to change the baby's diaper. I can't imagine it's pleasant to have wet areas on my person whilst trying to nap either, but again, this might just be me as I've seen many a saggy bottomed baby playing with gleeful abandon and complete disregard to their droopy diaper.

Step three: Find a place to lay the baby down. (Or lie the baby down, I forget which is socially and English class accepted.) Hand blankie, stuffy, wubby, nubby, or whatever to your beautious offspring. Pop a cork, ah, I mean binky, into that cute little scream maker of theirs. Tip toe quickly, yet quietly, away from baby with the insane belief that they will immediately settle down and take an excellent 90 minute nap where you will be super productive. Have that belief shattered in thirteen seconds when  your precocious baby is sitting/standing/jumping/screaming. Soothe baby with cooing sounds, laying (lying?) them down again, this time making an even hastier retreat from the room.

Step four: Realize that your sweet cuddle bug needs some mommy-baby bonding time. In mommy's big, cozy bed. Transport baby, binkie, blankie, stuffy and all the other crap along with baby. Settle into a cozy, snuggling embrace with the wriggle worm that has become your child. Subject yourself to eye poking, fingers in your mouth, and nasal cavity exploration. Try to re-direct baby to quiet, sleeping time pose. Cover with blanket. Encourage finding thumb, binky, or blankie even though you just told your husband how you were totally weaning the baby off said object.

Step five: After 45 minutes of trying to get the kid to nap, he's fallen asleep on your arm. Carefully dislodge yourself out from under the baby using minute movements spaced in 20 second intervals so as not to wake the sleeping angel. Hold breath the entire time. Noisily expel breath as soon as you manage to successfully disentangle yourself. Hold your breath again as the kid stirs. Turn on baby monitor. Build fort of pillows, blankets, and bricks to keep sweetheart angel face from rolling off the bed. Tiptoe away from bed like it will explode if your footstep lands too heavily on the floor.

Step six: Hover close enough to the bedroom to hear if baby wakes up. Alternate between that and telling people in your house to "Shut UP!" in an angry whisper. Consider tackling neighbor kids who are making too much noise in the yard right outside your bedroom window. How dare they whoop it up? Can't they see they might wake the precious sleeping bundle? Don't they know how badly that precious bundle needed this nap?

Step seven: Waste entire 90 minute nap time worrying that something is going to wake your baby from their well deserved and much needed nap. End up waking baby when the weight of your worry crushes them and they wake up anyway. Realize that the last two hours were not productive in any way, shape, or form. Sigh and realize you're exhausted and could use a nap yourself. Right about the time that bouncing bundle is recharged and ready to wear you out again.