Well, since you asked, let me give you our manifest. Clothes for seven people for 2 weeks. This must include outfits for daytime, PJs, and swimsuits for everyone. Beach towels, regular towels and linens (per the not extra money we are not paying for linens), rags, dish towels. Some snacks, plastic bowls (the last time we went to the beach there were only glass bowls. Glass bowls. For children. My children.). Toys and sleeping arrangements for the boys. The baby is in the playpen, and the older two boys will sleep on an airbed.
And all of this, plus all 7 of us have to fit in the van, comfortably, for 12+ hours. There is a special seat in heaven for everyone who doesn't cut me off, hold me back, and keeps traffic moving. Okay, maybe not. I'm not really THAT important. But also, move over.
Every big trip we have the "same thing that happened the last time we packed". My husband wants me to pack less, I try, and we still end up with a crap-ton of stuff. There's not really a better way to carry everything. Though the totes were a nice idea. And of course we have a bajillion chargers. What did we do when we were kids? Car bingo? Fun "Scavenger Hunts".
No way. When I was a kid there were two games we played. "STOP IT" and "Keep Dad Awake". Stop it was my sister's favorite game. "Stop looking at me. Stop looking out my window. Stop breathing on me. Stop copying me. Stop eating your snack. Stop asking mom. Stop it. Stop it." She loved to play this game until my dad had had enough. "Keep Dad Awake" was much more entertaining. My dad worked the night shift. So my parents decided that on our annual trips to Florida, we would drive at night. So we would get our PJs on, my dad would swing through the drive thru at Hardees and get a bag of burgers, and we'd be off. Once we were on the interstate and had eaten the burgers, my mom's job was to go to sleep. Oh yeah. Kick the seat back and she was OUT. Now, my sister and were supposed to go to sleep too. But I never did. Why? Because someone had to play "Keep Dad Awake". There's a stretch of 1-95 that is BO-RING. I mean trees and NOTHING for about a million miles. My dad, despite working night shift, was always exhausted. Because he'd been up all day. Because he'd worked the night before. Because he'd packed the car. Because it was dark o'clock and everyone else in the car was sleeping and it was so boring. So my job was to kick the back of his seat when he started nodding off. This was before those loud bumpy things were on the shoulder of the interstate. I always won the game. :)
But we don't drive at night. We split the trip up. During the day. And the kids plug into the interwebs. They have Leapsters, DSes (what is the plural of DS?) and Nook and Tablet and Evo and and and and and ... They have so much to do they can't even imagine. But I guarantee that after about 2 hours they will start fighting, crying, and say that phrase every parent dreads: "How much longer?" That's why we split it. Because 13 hours of "how much longer" and crying and hitting is not fun. For anyone. Ever.
Because sometimes you just want quiet. Even in the car.
No comments:
Post a Comment