Back to the grindstone

I spent yesterday cleaning my car, vacuuming up remnants of mulch we had left while hauling some home a couple of months ago. I even scrubbed all the bug guts off the grill and gave it a waxing.

I grocery shopped.

I actually cooked dinner.

The kids are back to tormenting each other to see who screams the loudest. (Smella always wins.)

I did piles and piles of laundry. (Did you know it breeds and multiplies like rabbits when you leave the house?)

I head back to work tonight, while the husband headed off this morning.

Someone needs to clean a toilet around here.

I miss vacation.

Listy McListerson (Vacation Edition)

1. Always call and check ahead at your hotel. They may only have shower stalls instead of bathtubs, and so you may have to a) shower with a slippery, screamy one-year-old or b) bathe a slippery, screamy one-year-old in the tiny sink. Neither is very fun.

2. It is motherfucking HOT as a motherfucker in Arkansas. I lost five pounds by sweating profusely.

3. At a gas station in Marion, Arkansas, there were a half-dozen redneck men, gassing up their huge trucks for a huntin' or fishin' trip. They were smoking. As they pumped gas. It was some awe-inspiring brilliance.

4. Despite all the warnings that it would be a suck-ass experience, Little Rock Zoo was pretty damn neat. And we were there early enough that we didn't melt as we walked around, and all the animals were out to greet us. Also? Camel rides.




5. Even after eleven or so years, Blackwood's Gyros and Grill is still delicious. The husband recommends The Blackwood, while I'll go ahead and vouch for anything that isn't nailed down. Yum.

6. We got to hang out with my 15-year-old niece and 11-year-old nephew. They're really tall now and make me feel really old.

7. The in-laws managed to not make us too crazy. They were actually very hospitable and friendly, and I wasn't called any names. The mother-in-law also loaded us up with bags and bags of cack. Like toothbrushes from dentist visits, an animated Santa, and bibles. We never visit them and leave with fewer than four bibles. Is she trying to tell me something?

8. Speaking of the godless heathen that I am, would you like to see the biggest, holiest cross this side of the Mississippi?

It makes you feel like screaming amen. Or snickering wildly. Whatever. And huh, there's a freaking website about it.

9. All in all, we had fun. The kids got to see gorillas and where the husband grew up. I got to feel completely out of place with my very northern accent. The husband got to visit with his parents, siblings, and friends he hasn't seen in a few years. The kids mostly behaved, but I don't plan on driving more than 20 minutes with them any time soon. And ohmigawd, people, I MISSED MY BED.

10. One last one. Perhaps the most unfortunate place on Earth to live.


(Many apologies to the fine folks of Cooter, Missouri. I'm sure I'll be able to pass by one day without guffawing immaturely.)

And we're off

I hope to make it back in one, sane piece to regale everyone with tales of the in-laws. Because hoo-boy, there are always good tales after a visit with them. Yup.

Happy 4th and all that jazz too.

Ready, set, shop!

I loaded the kids up and headed to Target this afternoon. I needed a few last-minute things for AR. And new shoes for Big D. And a new shirt for myself. And they make travel-size packages of Clorox wipes! I can clean a whole hotel room with a Clorox wipe! Oooh, and three new board books for Boobers for the car ride!

So I can't leave a Target for less than $50. I'VE TRIED.

What's really impressive is that I took all three kids with me shopping, something I try never, never to do. But I'm an expert Targeter (I've been training for years) and can manage to rack up $50 in under ten minutes. I could kick ASS at one of those five-minute shopping sprees.

Because my children? Not so much into shopping. Okay, Boobers doesn't mind, but give him a few months, and he'll be just as irritating. Unfortunately, Big D is too long-legged to shove into a cart, so he bounces and runs around like he's JUST smoked crack in the backseat of the car. Smella rides in the basket, continuously whining that's she's thirsty. Or she wants that hat. Or ohmigawd, I know you just didn't put something in this shopping cart where I'm trying to lay back and get my whine on.

Boobers sits quietly in the front of the cart. He occasionally points at something that catches his eye and grunts. I try to interact with him, but between reigning in Big D and loudly whispering to Smella to SHUT IT, I tend to forget about him. He's fine with that, because it gives him ample opportunity to suck on the disease-infested cart handle, his favorite shopping past time. And when he's gotten his fill of Target germs and virus, he likes to dig through my purse, eating stray morsels he finds and dialing Cambodia on my cell phone.

A shopping excursion usually ends with a couple of kids crying, a white-knuckled drive home with lots of deep breathing, and nap time as soon as we hit the front door.

But in theory, taking the kids with me saves money. Do you know what kind of damage I could do by myself in an hour? Whoo. I think I just heard the husband pass out.

Preparing to vacate

I have a list a mile long of shit to do before we leave for Arkansas on Friday. I know I'm going to forget something. I keep referring to my five or six lists, but I still feel panicky. And the funniest part of the whole thing? The kids are most excited about the fact that the hotel we're staying at has a pool.

I've reminded the husband several times of the money would could save if we just stayed in an Indianapolis Super 8 or something. We wouldn't even use that much gas! No ten-hour car rides! I could afford the digital SLR I've always wanted! And the best part? His parents wouldn't be there!

He isn't amused.

I'm in love with a city

The husband surprised me with a trip to New York for our sixth wedding anniversary about four years ago. It was the best surprise anyone's ever given me, and I'm sure I'll never be able to trump it.

It also was the best vacation of my life, and I'm also pretty sure it will never be trumped either.

We were there only about four days, and we tried to pack in as much as we could. The Empire State Building at night, the Staten Island Ferry to pass by the Statue of Liberty, the Museum of Natural History. It was all breathtaking and inspiring. We walked miles and miles through that city, occasionally hopping on the subway. But while the subway was entertaining and quick, you missed so much by not treading the streets.

By the time we left, I was in love. Madly, deeply in love with a truly alive city. If it weren't for the fact that we had left my Big D back home, I would've stayed. I could've pitched a tent in the middle of Times Square and lived harmoniously with the Naked Cowboy and been completely happy. As the plane touched down back home in Indy, I was literally homesick for a city I'd only visited for a handful of days.

As I plan and research this upcoming trip we're taking, I can't help but veer my searches to New York occasionally, browsing flights and hotels, just counting down the days until we can go back sometime. I miss the honking and then the "no honking" signs on 5th Avenue, central park, the hotdog carts, the little lapdogs in Saks. I yearn for all of it.

I know we'll go back sometime, and I know Arkansas in a few weeks will be fun for us and the kids, but I wish my chest wouldn't tighten and my eyes get teary every time I think of it.

Planning

In about a month, the husband, my three kids, and I will embark on a little roadtrip. We're heading down south to Arkansas to visit the husband's family. It's about a ten-hour trip, and I've already developed an eye-twitch every time I think about it. Ten hours. In one vehicle. Three children. Woooo, there it goes again.

I've already begun making lists. I've never packed for this many people for as long as we'll be gone. Five people, five days, a newly potty trained Smella, a one-year-old. It's quite possible I'll need a u-Haul.

And there's another issue. I drive a Suzuki XL-7. That thing adores gas like a drunken frat girl adores a kegger. We're estimating $400 in gas for the trip. (I try not to remember back when the husband and I were first dating and gas was only 99¢ a gallon.) We've considered renting a smaller (but still big enough to squish two car seats and a seven-year-old in the backseat) car. It looks like with a higher mpg plus the cost of rental, it'd be about the same.

So I'm stressing. Adding things to my four or five lists and stressing. I'm looking forward to the vacation, but I swear the work it takes to get ready for one is unbelievable. I need a vacation from planning the vacation.

Anyone have any tips or advice? Any good ideas on keeping the kids occupied? Anyone have a script for an anti-anxiety med they'd like to share? I could use alllll the help I can get.

74 Days. I can DO this.

1. First day off of school. I've broken up fourteen fights, said "please quit yelling" nine hundred times, and already cracked open that bottle of tequila I was saving for something special. I type surprisingly well drunk off my ass, no?

2. C and I are making the road trip to K's new house tomorrow. 54 miles. A little over an hour. I told her I'd drive if she'd bring yummy road trip snacks. What? No one wants their blood sugar to drop on such. a. long. drive.

3. My mom will be keeping the kids while I go tomorrow. I feel for her a little. Just a little.

4. Big D lost a lens to his glasses sometime in a bouncehouse last night. And since he didn't tell anyone until this morning, it's gonzo. Ossip would be pleased to replace it for $76. Isn't that swell of them?

5. 74 days left until school starts. About an hour until nap time. Five hours until I get to leave for work. Hey, everyone needs a coping mechanism.