Road Trip!

It wasn't unusual for my mother to call me up, at work, from her job, and say "I'm bored. You have the next few days off; I have the next few days off. Let's take the kids on a road trip." OK. Now, I'm not against spontaneity. But in order to take two kids anywhere, you have to make sure of several things. Like are you sure that you can stand them for prolonged periods of time in a car. There have been times that this particular question has been in doubt.

OK, so we decide to go on a road trip. Now the particular road trip that I have in mind to tell you about, happened when I was a stay at home mom, and Mom was working, so the conversation went something like this... "Let's go on a road trip, it's a long weekend..." "Why, sure Mom. We can leave on Friday, because the kids have school tomorrow..." "Oh... they do? Can't you just write them a note?" "No, Mom. And besides, it gives me a chance to do a little laundry and make sure that everyone has clean socks and underwear. Do you need a load done?" "No... We'll just stop at K-Mart and I'll get what I need..."

Now, sadly, this was a typical conversation with my mother before a road trip. I swear, she was as bad as the kids...

We didn't tell the kids what was planned. I spent the next day doing what laundry needed to be done, packing, getting the "nibbly" things for the car ready and making sure that my husband was going to survive without us for awhile. Mom and I discussed which car to take, her Jetta or my Daytona. Her Jetta won.

The following morning we began to pack up. A couple of backpacks for me and the kids, virtually no luggage for Mom, she was being true to her word about K-Mart, the road nibbles, some car games and things for the kids to do while we drove and off we went. I drove, Mom navigated.

I don't know if you have ever been on a road trip with someone who can't read a map... but my son, who was twelve at the time, could read one better than my mother.

I swear, we were less than 20 miles down the road and my daughter says... "I gotta pee..." I don't think I even made it out of town. "I gotta pee..." OK... pull into the nearest gas station. I look at everyone point to the bathrooms and say... "EVERYONE GETS OUT AND GOES PEE! NOW!" We all troop back into the car; Mom consults the map and says... "Let's not take the Interstate... let's take the scenic route..."

Now, anyone who has travelled with children knows that the scenic route is a death sentence to any trip. "Mom... exactly what is our destination?" "St. Augustine. Didn't I tell you?" WHAT?

St. Augustine is about a 5 hour drive on the Interstate from our home, near Tampa. That I can handle, with two kids in the car. Very little squabbling, between Mom and the kids (because by now, I'm convinced that Mom is one of the kids) and then we are there. Exploring the oldest city in the US. One of the most beautiful cities in the US was only five hours away. And she wants to take the "scenic route".

Don't get me wrong. Highway 301 through the heart of Florida is lovely. It takes you through the back of beyond of Florida. Through the small towns where many of the circus folk of Florida legend retired to get away from the crowds. And it will take more than eight hours to get to St Augustine with no guarantee of gas stations, places to eat (where the kids will eat) and rest stops. Great.

Hour one: We turn onto Hwy 301 and the traffic is outrageous. I can't get the car out of third gear. We are moving at a snail's pace through Palmetto, as they are doing construction (a favorite Florida pastime).

Hour two: We finally get out of Palmetto, which means we have made it thirty miles from home. Speed limit is forty-five; there is no air conditioning in the car, so we roll down the windows. Now Florida gets warm. But Florida in the springtime has one other lovely aspect to it, it is humid. And I don't mean the northern version of humidity, where when it reached a hundred percent humidity, it rains. No... in Florida, it must be a minimum of three hundred percent humidity to rain. So, windows down, so humid that you can't breathe, and going forty five miles an hour down the road and THEY start to get restless.

Hour three: The restlessness gets worse. Driving through small towns means stop lights, speed limits of thirty to forty miles per hour and tedium. The Florida countryside is... scrub; swamp and... more scrub and swap. Sara is kicking the back of my seat. And I'm thinking of kicking her back. Mom is oblivious, telling the kids how wonderful it will be when we get to St Augustine and they get to see the Atlantic Ocean. They've never seen a "real" ocean before, only the Gulf.

Hour four: Even my mom is starting to get restless, now. Every time a car gets within two hundred yards of the car she makes that hiss noise. You know the one... from the back seat you hear. "Mom... I'm hot." "Mom... I'm sweating." "Mom... Ricky's touching me." "Mom... Sara's bag is on my side of the seat." Sweat is pouring off me. I'm thinking about sticking both kids into the trunk. No... wait... I'll stick MOM into the truck, let Ricky do the navigating and get onto the Interstate.

Hour five: the snacks are gone. The kids are claiming they are starving and thirsty. No restaurants, no fast food joints, no gas stations in sight. Things are getting desperate. Ricky is eyeing his sister, asking if she would taste good with BBQ sauce. I look at Mom... "Find me the fastest way to the Interstate."

Hour six: Mom has gotten us lost. The kids are fighting openly in the backseat and Mom is egging them on. My eye is twitching visibly. There is a dead alligator in the road. Yuck. Ricky suggests that it might do as dinner. Double yuck.

Hour seven: Mom has taken us in a circle. We have passed the dead alligator twice. I pull over and snatch the map out of her hands and make her get into the backseat with Sara, and have Ricky get into the front seat with me. This way it cuts down on the fighting, the name calling between the three of them (I hope) and Ricky reads a map better than Mom.

Hour eight: I am hot, sweaty and miserable. This "five or six hour scenic drive" has turned into a nightmare. I'm ready to commit matricide. I'm ready to leave the kids in the swamp. And then turn myself in. Ricky finally finds where Mom went wrong. Aha! Civilization, at last! We pull into the gas station, since the gas situation was getting horribly dangerously low. Then to the Golden Arches, since it's one place that I can be positive that Sara can find something that she will eat (chicken nuggets... she was on a chicken kick at the time... don't ask... I didn't get it either.)

Wahoo! We are two hours away by the Interstate! These people may survive this trip! We get something to eat. I get a much needed very large coffee. And off we go. We pulled into St Augustine by ten that night and fell into bed in a sweet little hotel by the sea. I swore as I drifted off to sleep that I was never going to do this again... until the next time....