Sending Out an SOS

I'm posting from the road. I'm on a road trip. A 1600-mile road trip. With my kids and my parents. For the past few weeks, some shady things have been going on in the apartments where we lived, and although I never felt imminently in danger, it gave me the creeps. My parents happened to have a visit scheduled for this week. I asked Joe, whose training is getting harder and more stressful, what he thought about the idea of the kids and I going back home to Virginia until he's done in early March. His face lit up and he started asking me how soon we could leave and how fast could we get our bags packed.

So my top notch parents, who always have been and always will be too good to me, flew out, and here we are driving through an apparent hurricane in Alabama. They're adorable travellers, my parents (Cookie and Pops).

Cookie, always the epitome of class, dresses for car travel in her Talbots outfits and coordinating ballet flats like she's going to one of her Republican Women's Club meetings. She has cheerfully taken on the toughest job--sitting in between the children and keeping them happy. This has included, but has not been limited to, singing countless rounds of "Old McDonald", changing Luke's DVD every five minutes every time he gets a new whim, suffering jabbing kicks in the knee from time to time as she talks over his movie, and watching him like a hawk as he eats a Ring Pop in the event she should need to perform the Heimlich Maneuver.

Pops, as a traveller, gives new meaning to the phrase "Sandwich Generation". He's the lean protein between the bread of old school and new school, having gone to AAA for a Trip Tik, and having brought his new Garmin. I can't tell which one he prefers, but I know this to be true--we will not be getting lost on this trip.

The kids are handling this trip much better than I had expected. George was still smiling after twelve hours on the road yesterday. Although, in the middle of the night, I decided he was probably laughing to himself as he was plotting my destruction. He took one look at the industrial bed provided by the hotel and thought, "I don't think so!" Instead of sleeping in it, he laid in bed next to me, practicing gymnastics.

Luke has been uncharacteristically easygoing, aside from an unfortunate incident this morning. I made a grievous error, kissing him on the cheek. He screamed, "NO!" at me and attempted to brush the kiss off with his hand. Brushing was deemed an ineffective means of removing my kiss, and gave way to slapping. He slapped himself so hard that he started crying, and pitifully asked me if I could kiss it and make it better. Although I was tempted to cross my arms and tell him that maybe I didn't want to give him a kiss, I kissed his cheek and taught him the word of the day: irony.

All in all, we're having a great trip, and aside from wanting a privacy filter on my speedometer (strategically positioning my hands on the steering wheel so my mom can't see is getting tricky, AND making me feel 16 years old again), and missing my husband, I've been very content on our little journey. Virginia or bust!