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One for the road — finally

Submitted by on Sunday, 1 June 2008 No Comment

Originally published July 16, 2007, thehive.modbee.com   

Of all the things I missed about my carefree, single days – and there aren’t many, except maybe eight hours’ sleep a night – what I miss most is the ability to just walk out the door and go.

It used to be so simple – get dressed, grab tiny purse, hit the road. All in about 10 minutes.

This weekend, a trip to the Bay Area morphed into a 110-minute launch. Granted, it was an extreme case, but not by much.

 10 a.m.:  OK, guys, time to get dressed!

 10:05 a.m.:  How do toddlers suddenly sprout all those extra limbs? I understand that, having had his diaper changed roughly 6,000 times in his life, Little Guy is bored with the process and just wants to have a little fun. However, having changed roughly 10,000 diapers in the past four years, I’m bored with the process and just want to get it done. A little less octopus, please!

 10:15 a.m.:   Big Guy develops amnesia about where we keep his clothes. I point him in the right direction while Little Guy walks around muttering, “Ready to go. Ready to go.”

 10:30 a.m.:  Big Guy’s smug now, thinking he won a “getting dressed” race because his shoes were on before mine. “Ha! I beat you! I beat you!” I bite back the impulse to say, “Yeah, if I hadn’t spent 10 minutes haranguing you, my shoes would be on.”

 10:35 a.m.  Where the heck is the diaper bag? No, not that one. It’s too little. The huge one, the one that barely qualifies as carry-on luggage?

 10:40 a.m.:  Oh, there it is, but it’s missing the Epi-Pen and low on snacks. I stop to reload.

 10:45 a.m.:  “Ready to goooooooo!!!!” Little Guy wails. “All right, let’s go.” We head for the car, where Little Guy insists “I do seat belt.” Meanwhile, Big Guy, who is  capable of putting on his seat belt, refuses.

 10: 50 a.m.:  Dad remembers he has to go to the ATM. The guys are snotterfalls this weekend, so I ask him to get a box of tissues while he’s in the store.

 11 a.m.:  Dad forgets the tissues. Another trip inside the store.

 11:10 a.m.:  A “spirited discussion” about where to gas up. Dad thinks it’s a waste of time to drive two blocks out of the way to a station where it’s 5 cents a gallon cheaper. I respond that I have more time than money. We drive two blocks.

 11:15 a.m.:  The line is roughly 10 blocks long at the cheaper gas station. Dad gets frustrated and drives to another 5-cents-cheaper station, this one an additional 10 minutes out of the way.

 11:27 a.m.:  The fill-up commences as Dad goes into the convenience store for juice and snacks. Big Guy starts doing the pee-pee squirm. “Mommy, I have to go potty.” I bite back the impulse to ask, “Why didn’t you go before we left,” because I remember we’d left almost an hour ago.

 11:37 a.m.:  I get a visual on Dad leaving the convenience store and unfasten Big Guy’s seat belt. Little Guy begins to wail at the unfairness.

 11:40 a.m.:  Big Guy stops to gawk at a horse trailer at an adjoining pump. Granted, it’s an interesting trailer – the horses are saddled up with parade blankets and ribbons – but as he gawks, two people get to the restroom line ahead of us.

 11:50 a.m.:  Big Guy’s back to the car and strapped in. Little Guy’s level of offendness plummets when I pull out a pack of Rolos from my emergency stash.

 11:52 a.m.:  We’re on the freeway. I’m exhausted already.

 Copyright 2007 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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