To Grandmother's House We Go

So we traveled for Christmas this year. No. Stop it, you. I know, I know you know what's coming. You know how it is, being trapped in the moving metal carcass that is your minivan that also feels like it will be your tomb because how on Earth can we possibly survive a 13 hour cross-country road trip with three small beings, two big ones, one that is unborn but perhaps the wiggliest of the bunch and enough stuff to delight a small third world country and we haven't even had the holiday yet.

But anyway, we made the trip and now I will describe to you how it went. Wipe the tears of mirth from your eyes and enjoy.

It began innocently enough, with seven straight viewings of The Ultimate Collection of Bugs Bunny Classics and some conversations about road signs. Number One proudly sees the yellow diamond and announces, "That says elk must live here." I ask him how he knew that was an elk (we don't see many; we live in the middle of the desert) and he ponders this for a moment before answering honestly, "I don't know. I guess I'm an expert." Seems about right for a six year old from 45 miles outside the US-Mexico border.

The fun continues (you knew this was inevitable) with an emergency I-have-to-pee-right-now-and-no-I-can't-hold-it-yes-I'm-willing-to-go-on-the-side-of-the-road-yes-I-promise-I-really-will-go-not-like-last-time potty stop. We pick the best location we can find in the middle of nowhere, an innocent-looking exit, and let the troops out. It isn't until Number Three is 30 yards away and shin-deep in mud that we begin to discover that the entire place is a swampy pit. But at this point, Number One is barefoot because he can't find his shoes, so he's peeing perched on a pokey rock but not far enough away from the car, as we now realize because his rather impressive puddle is adding to the general murkiness of the ground we're trying to navigate only now it's super gross because in addition to being made with melting snow, it's also made with Jud's pee and he's upset because his feet hurt and "I keep peeing all on my pants!" and he can't get back in the car by himself and Number Three is now trying to climb the wildlife fence she's found and is getting dirtier by the second so Josh goes to chase her while I help Number Two use the facilities. I lift her out (she's also barefoot because apparently NO ONE can find their shoes) and take her to the opposite side of the car, hoping conditions will be better over there. But overhearing us talking about the mud, she's refusing to put her feet down and is clinging to my arm like a spider monkey while I help her pull her pants off and encourage her to pee while dangling precariously from my limbs. This might have worked but then we realized that the empty exit wasn't quite so abandoned as we thought and so many cars are still driving past and Josh is hollering to put her pants back on while he wrangles Swamp Thing. Two is so distressed by the audience and the nakedness that she never can relieve herself and Josh gets back to the car with Three, in the process nearly tripping over the dead deer corpse rotting not five feet away that in all the hullabaloo we didn't notice but now it's filling our car with a horrible stench and as Josh stuffs Three in her car seat he tries to escape the deer and stink and mud he does end up bashing his already-broken-from-a-previous-adventure-but-that's-another-story toe and falls into the driver's seat howling and trying to wipe away mud. I'm pretty much in the same state, except that pregnancy is insane so I also start giggling deliriously and chalk it up to the worst rest stop ever.

How about lunch? 

Not in a state of mind to make any sort of impressive impression, we opt for fast food with a play place. Two eats her food miraculously well and goes off on greater brightly-colored plastic adventures. One makes it about halfway through his lunch before moaning, "Mooooomm, my heart is really tired of nachos. And my heart has never let me down." How can you argue with that as a parent? By all means, don't let me be the one to wreck your hopes and dreams. Go. Play. So Three (who is a growing almost-two-year-old) decides to scavenge the remains of her brother's cheesy chips, after polishing off her own quesadilla. All is going well until I steal one of her many remaining nachos and she freaks out. "Hey!! No!! I want one!!" You have one, Jay. "Hey! No!" In her tirade, she knocks more chips to the ground so we scoop them up and throw them away, but this just incenses her further. She scrambles under the table and attempts to climb into the trash can to rescue her poor babies. While she's distracted, Josh also eats one, but she is a woman on a mission and will not tolerate anyone sharing what she's rightfully stolen. So she pulls herself up on the bench and begins yanking Josh's jaws open in an attempt to fish out the chip he's just swallowed, all the while protesting the injustice of the world against a helpless lady. Oh boy.

After that there are only a handful more minor incidents, like when we're driving through a local polygamist colony - one of the remaining few in the United States - and Two, motivated by only the cows around us know what, begins announcing determinedly and happily, "This is my town!! This is MY town!" Um, Felic, perhaps you might wanna choose a new town. "Nope! THIS is my town! I wanna live here." Oh man. Thankfully for us she is far too spirited for her application for citizenship to ever be taken seriously, so we distract her and the rest with a few more rounds of Bugs Bunny, and finally we make it to Grandma's house. Hooray!
Because we are us and entering and just sitting and chatting would be out of the question, Two attempts to ride a TV box down the stairs, knocking her sister bloody in the process, Three shoots off the back of the treadmill at full speed, thus further bludgeoning her poor face only one day before her birthday and three days before Christmas. Because who doesn't want their two year old to look like they've survived 10 rounds with the world heavyweight champ? Yikes. One regales Grandma with the whole litany of weapons and warriors he knows about and she, being the ever-impressive woman she is, remains interested, all while making peanut butter sandwiches for the whole clan.

And now it's bedtime, let's go have a bath, and Two and Three literally begin climbing the walls of the bathtub (if I step on this soap ledge and this shampoo bottle, I can almost make it), despite my insistence that it's not a good idea, so we now decide that throwing cups of water around the bathroom shouting happily, "Let it snow!!" would be a good replacement activity. One is upstairs still, now reading The Little Mermaid to Grandma, which leads to an in-depth discussion of eels and the pros and cons of each different species. Grandma, loving to the end, compliments him on his reading and encourages him to come to bed and Grandpa says good night and show me in the morning all the awesome wrestling moves you know.

Whew. But at least we're here, with the opportunity to celebrate a beautiful holiday with the people we love most. And that's something worth even a drive like the one we just (barely) survived and will attempt to do again in a couple weeks. Wish us luck.

Merry Christmas!