Weekend Road Trip

"Why aren't we flying? Because getting there is half the fun. You know that."

-Clark Griswold

Last weekend marked our first official road trip of the season, which according to me, runs from Easter through Halloween (everything else falls into the, we'll come if the roads are good, category). My husband wasn't able to accompany us due to work, so it was just the three kids and me. The destination was four hours away, not too long if the kids are being good, terribly awful if they aren't.

Here's how it goes. You plan the trip, gas up the minivan (mighty frightening these days), pack the suitcases, throw some snacks and water bottles into the back, and load the kids up. Easy, right? Not so much.

These are my prerequisites for travel. Believe me, they aren't things that I plan for. They just seem to happen.

* It never fails that whenever I'm packing the suitcases, one of the kids will come down with the flu, a seasonal allergy attack, or a virus (because everything unidentifiable is deemed a virus).
Are you packing? Are we going somewhere? Ok. Let me just throw up on your bed.

* Whenever I've planned a trip, I come to find out that my husband has to work or will be away on TDY. This leaves me without a copilot as I brave the interstate system with three kids and a barking shih tzu.
I didn't know you were going to Montana, in June. I have to attend a mandatory class in Oahu that week. Yes, I'm taking my golf clubs because you never know, we might get out early one day.

* No matter the destination, I always go all Bill Cosby, while en route. You three have no idea what is was like to travel when I was a kid. No CD or DVD player. We had to listen to whatever was on the radio and sometimes there was nothing on but oldies. How else do you think the license plate game was invented? I don't care if she crossed the invisible line in the backseat, you'd better quit fighting or I'll turn off Kung Fu Panda and make you do what I did when I was your age. That's right. I'll make you look out the window and stare at the scenery. Yes, I'm serious, and I won't even pay you a quarter for the first deer you see.