Roadtrip Survival 101

At the airport the morning of the big NYC trip
just before the flight was cancelled and they had
to scramble to find another. Clearly the travel
gods do not love us!

Here's how I know my teenager is prepared for her travels to the Big Apple: I've set a splendid example. Sort of.

It is one of the summer days when I sleep in too long and wake in a panic. I have a ton of stuff to do. No time for a shower, I shellack the hair, throw on a bit of make-up and run out the door. By noon, I have successfully completed the errands, put out at least 2 figurative fires, and avoided 3 future problems! I am a woman on a mission. In fact, I am a woman done with her mission and who desperately needs a shower after running around, unbathed in the already 90 degree weather.

But fate has other plans. As I pull in, Sophie is pulling out. She is headed to Oklahoma City (about 2 1/2 hours away) for a master voice lesson. Suddenly, I have one of the Roaring Mom gut feelings that she should not go alone. So I jump in her dad's SUV with her, which is already gassed up and ready to go, and we head out.

It is a lovely mother/daughter bonding trip until...it isn't! On the way out of town we decide to grab a bite. However, according to Dirty Shirley (the technological witch referred to in the February 18, 2012 post Tech Trouble), there is nothing available other than Asian food. No offense to the Chinese, but Asian food is the only food I really, really do not like. Finally, after 45 minutes of rush hour driving while my stomach attempts to eat itself, the Hunger Anger sets in and yelling starts.

"Fine!" Sophie yells back, "It says there's a Grandy's up ahead. Turn right." Only Dirty Shirley did not signify on her deceptive little Garmin screen that this is the dirtiest Grandy's in America! Hunger wins out and we order. We ignore the bugs and spider webs and sticky substances on the tables and try to eat. But it can't happen. My hand will not let itself bring that "food" to my lips. So we leave.

An hour later, the SUV crawls to a stop on the highway. Of course, it happens as I am passing a semi, so we barely make it to the left side of the road. Vehicles whizz by, 6 inches from the passenger side. A lot of the honk. None of them stop to help.

So we help ourselves. After 45 minutes of sitting in the 100 degree heat, making numerous phone calls home and to AAA and to the tow truck place, we decide to forge the 1/2 mile walk down the nearby exit ramp to the Conoco--correction, the Dirtiest Conoco in America. I decide to make the best of it, find the humor. That's what I do, right? I grab my bag and an umbrella for sun protection, lock the car and start our journey through the tall prickly grass that lines the exit ramp.

I'm thirsty. I'm hungry. I'm ruining my pedicure and my overpriced Grazies. I open the umbrella. At least I won't be sunburned, too. But the umbrella is no help. The spokes were broken and it won't hold it's shape. The wind turns it inside out.

Suddenly, a tortured laugh escapes my parched throat. "Sophie, this just goes to show you that you should always travel with sensible shoes and water. Just in case."

She stops, unamused, turns to me, and says in all seriousness,"Mom, I'm wearing tennis shoes. I have a liter of water in my bag, three oranges, a long sleeved light weight jacket and a fully charged cell phone. You are wearing blingy flip-flops, carrying a broken umbrella, a dead cell phone, and a bag of make up. I think I got this."

"Well...at least I'll look good!" Only I don't. Nor do I smell good. That extra hour of sleep was really not worth it.

An hour later, cramped in the cab of a tow truck with a mute driver who apparently doesn't believe in radios, I'm starving to death with no connection to the outside world. Sophie is still hoarding her oranges and cell phone. I hope she knows that if we are ever on Survivor, I'm voting her off and stealing her supplies!  Wait! Strike that! I'm voting myself off so I can take a hot shower in a cushy hotel. She'll be fine with her Mary Poppins backpack. And she'll be fine travelling to and from NYC, too.

What can I say? If you can't be a shining example of the right way to do it, be a memorable model of how to do it wrong. And pray your kids run in the other direction.

It Was a Dud!

I refuse to spend one penny on stuff to blow up! Call me an Independence Day Scrooge, but I just won't do it. It makes absolutely no sense to spend money on something that has the potential to blow my child's hand off, turns my alien beast dog into a crazed barking machine, and raises my blood pressure. So this year I set out to have a Quiet Independence Day.

It started out as just the most lovely day. Our neighborhood hosted its annual parade. It was a fun little five minutes. The parade is filled with big kids on riding lawn mowers, small kids on bicycles, toddlers in wagons and puppies on leashes. Everything is decked out in patriotic ribbons, banners, and balloons. The highlight of the parade--Popsicles!! They are distributed at the end to all the participants, which makes the paraders ride even faster, so, yeah, the parade lasts about 5 minutes. I missed it one year because I went into the garage to find a lawn chair. By the time I emerged, the only things I saw on the street outside my house were few overlooked Tootsie Rolls thrown from a John Deer and some Shih Tzu droppings.

So far, so good. I had smiled through the first few minutes of my Quiet Independence Day! Then I watched some war movies, enjoyed the televised musical 1776 and...that's it.

Huh. Wow. I had set out to have a quiet celebration and I had succeeded. It was a Roaring Mom first! Not much of what I set out to do ever goes as planned, especially celebrations! Immediately I thought of Sophie's 10th birthday party at the park that had ended up with little girls covered in sticker burrs, being chased by bees. Then there was Frank's party with the Pirates of the Caribbean treasure chest pinata. It was pouring down rain, so the chest was placed on the family room for and all the little "pirates" took turns pounding it with their plastic swords. There was the time I burned my fingertips off cooking a Christmas ham and the Easter we found a few of last year's eggs in the back yard. And those were just the tip of the iceberg disasters!

This year had gone just as planned and you know what...it was boring! Where was the excitement, the noise, the celebration? Without fireworks, July 4th was just another insignificant, boring, lazy day! As a proud American, I failed! Our forefathers deserve more! America deserves more! I deserve more! By sitting on my butt and refusing to participate, my July 4th was a far worse disaster than a soggy pinata or bumble bee-infested birthday cake.

Fireworks don't make America great, but our traditions do. Wrecked plans make memories and quiet is dull. Never again will I miss out on the Crash! Bam! Boom! (or even the 5 minute parade) of celebrating our independence and our great nation! In fact, our Independence should be celebrated every day. It's true that freedom isn't free. Independence isn't accidental. So light a firework, fly a flag, raise a glass...vote! Even if it raises your blood pressure!

How did you spend your Independence Day? I hope you made a great big, loud, messy memory!

From last year's parade when I wasn't sitting on my butt doing nothing.

Perseverence

Yes, it's been a while since my last post. That's because I've been busy...swimming in my pool! Can you believe it? It's finally up and filled and has stayed that way...so far anyway.

How did we do it? Two Steps: Determination and Perseverance.

Of course, while Frank and I shovelled more rock in the 100 degree, scorching sun, we both complained and whined and griped and wondered if the work was even worth it. Like a good mom, I encouraged him and said the pool would be even more fun because of what we had to go through to set it up. Not sure he bought it. Even after splashing around in our little oasis and repeatedly dunking his sister, I'm still not sure he bought it.

While I was floating on my back, enjoying the beautiful summer sky two nights ago, I wondered if (like over achieving) determination and perseverance is passed down through our genes. If so, my quiet and calculating daughter received and overabundance of them. Once, when she was about 5 or 6, we were swimming at the Y. She wanted to go down the indoor slide.

Lifeguard: "I'm sorry. You have to be able to swim all the way across the deep end and back to be able to go down the slide."

QC: "I can."

Lifeguard: Smiling sweetly. "I don't think so. I'm sorry."

So my daughter, who had never swum more than about 5 feet on her own jumped in the deep end and swam all the way across and back. She pulls herself out of the pool, plants her hands on her hips and glares at the lifeguard. "Can I go down the slide now?"

The same daughter loves to help me bake. When she was a toddler, I put her in charge of dumping. Whenever an ingredient needed to be added, it was her job to dump it in. We made a good team in the kitchen and it was usually a lot of fun. Except when it came to making chocolate chip cookies. She wouldn't "dump" the chips. She added them to the dough one by one. It made me nuts! But she liked the single chip method and no amount of cajoling, coercing, threatening, or begging would change her way of doing things.

It's makes us crazy, doesn't it, when kids set out to get what they want? It's funny when Family Guy's Stewie starts his "Mom. Mama. Mom. Mommy. Mom..." It's funny because we've ALL heard it. Or how about the Simspons "Are we there yet? No. Are we there yet? No. Are we there yet? No." The kids KNOW they are driving us crazy and yet the persevere because they also know that eventually they will get what they want, right?

So what happens? Why, as adult women, is it so hard for some of us to ask for what we want? And to persevere until we get it? Studies show that women are less likely to ask for raises or promotions. We're less likely to enter a job interview and ask for the pay we really want right from the beginning.Why is it so difficult for some adult women to open their mouths and say, "This is what I want and I'm going to get it. I hope you support me, but if you don't I'm doing it anyway?" Is it because we don't feel we deserve it? Are we afraid we will seem pushy?

Even though it wasn't easy and it took a whole lot longer than 15 minutes, with determination and perseverance, I finally got my pool. Because I wanted it. I thought we deserved it. And I didn't want to disappoint my kids. But somehow, nearly passing out from blowing up the inflatable top, shoveling rocks for days in the blazing sun, dealing with the odorous swampy bog, filling and re-filling the water was a whole lot easier than finding that same determination outside the confines of my backyard. Hmmm...Maybe the lesson here wasn't for my son, but for me.

While we're enjoying the last days of summer, take some time to find your inner child. It might require you to spontaneously jump in the deep end. Or shovel some rock in the blazing sun. Or open your mouth and ask for what you really want. True, you might drive someone crazy. But in the end, when you are floating, peacefully gazing at the stars with a smile on your face, it will all be worth it! I promise!

The Rest of the Story

I'm so glad I waited to blog about the pool set-up, otherwise you wouldn't know...the rest of the story.

The next day, after church, we bring home our 80 pound box containing our pool. We get it to the backyard and start the 15 minute set-up. Good thing we didn't set the timer, too. It would still be ticking.

Here are the few, easy steps included in setting up our pool:

Day 1: Dump out the contents of the 80 pound box that we managed to drag from the car to the backyard. All parts accounted for. Even a few extras. That's a good thing, right? Next, roll out the ground tarp. Roll out the 15 ft. pool. Must inflate the top ring that goes all the way around the pool (air pump not included). In 100 degree blazing sun. Hmmm...Go buy pump. Return 30 minutes later and revive daughter who has passed out from trying to blow up the top ring w/o pump. Find extension cord. Hook up pump, turn it on. Smoke spews from the back. Nothing spews from the nozzle. Curse the stupid generic brand pump makers and my stupid decision to buy generic brand pump. Take turns blowing up top. Nearly pass out. FINALLY...fill up pool. Sort of.

Lessons of the day so far--#1. Don't buy generic brand air pumps. #2. If you want to know how drastically sloped your yard is, fill up a 15 ft. inflatable pool on it.

Day 1 (cont'd.): Hours later--Half-full pool is already flowing over one side. Shut off water. Curse the Gods! Throw a fit. Call Manly Man Dad Friend who advises me to shovel rocks from under the swing set area to level the ground under pool. Laugh hysterically at the idea of draining water, moving pool, shoveling rocks, replacing pool in 100 degree blazing sun...in order to complete the easy, 15 minute set-up. (Like that's gonna happen. I'd rather use it only half-full.)

That night, drain the pool.

Day 2: Shovel rocks. Sweat profusely. Shovel more rocks. Replace pool. Fill pool.
Pool fills enough for me to see we clearly have not fixed the slope problem. Then drains just enough to flood the yard and remind me that I forgot to plug the drain.

Lesson of the Day--#1 Plug the Drain.

Day 3: Shovel more rocks and try desperately to shove them under the still partially-filled pool. Sweat more profusely. Curse everything.

Day 4: Aaaaarrrrrrrgggggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!

Day 5: It's just too hot.

Day 6: Renewed determination. Try to flip pool by myself to move the rocks and fix the slope. Try again. And again. And once more. Too much water left in the bottom for one person to lift.

Day 7: Frank helps me flip the pool! Fifteen foot circle of rotting grass under pool sends sewer-like emissions wafting through the neighborhood. We run for the house. My two stupid dogs run for the nasty bog and roll their bodies in the sludge. Then run back in the house.

Day 8: Wonder if the generic brand of odor-eliminating air freshener would be just as good as the name-brand odor eliminating air freshener.

Day 9: Consider calling Boxman for one of those bigger boxes to load up the remnants of our 15 minutes set-up.

Day 10: Frank: "Mom, when are we gonna build that tree house you promised me?"

15 Minute Set Up...But Ya Gotta Buy It First

So I'm at the grocery store (yes, again!). It's about 1:00 am and my quiet yet calculating daughter is with me. Don't even ask how and why that occurred. It's a blog in itself. But it's an emergency run for milk and tortilla chips.

The kids have been wanting to buy a pool. You know, the cheap, above ground kind that will only last one season. They even had a garage sale to raise the money.And since my garage is still full of the crap we couldn't sell, while I'm at the store, I snatch up a bunch of discarded produce boxes to use to pack up all the garage sale leftovers.

So the quiet and calculating daughter (hereafter referred to as QC) sees this new display of pools discounted by about $100 with your Dillon's Card. Having scoured the city the previous weekend for a pool in their price range, she decides we have to buy it NOW. They'll be sold out by morning.

At this time of night, only the self-serve check-outs are open. And tonight, of course, they are all malfunctioning. So we and about six other patrons wait for the one and only clerk who is on another register checking out some off-clock employee. Which takes FOREVER. At least it seems like that when you are holding five flattened produce boxes. You know, there's just no easy way to hold on to those things.

Guy behind us: "Hey, you need some boxes?"

Me: "Nope. I got some boxes."

Guy: "I've got some more. Their bigger. I'd be glad to let you have them."

Me: "Thanks but if they are too big I won't be able to lift them when they're full."

Guy: "Are you sure? I could get you those boxes. They're about this high (gestures to his waist) and they held..."

Me: (Stopped listening).

FINALLY the one and only clerk tells us we have to go back over to the self-check-out. We explain the situation. Flustered, she scurries over to fix the problem. Which takes FOREVER. At least it seems like that when you're holding 5 flattened produce boxes. We tell her we want to get a pool and she freezes.

Clerk: "I don't know how to do that. Hold on. I have to call someone."

Then she proceeds to help Box Guy, who, as he's leaving assures me he can bring by those boxes if I want him to. Keep walkin', Mr Box Man. Then she helps a couple other people. THEN, she makes the call.

Clerk: "Okay, I think I know how to do that. But you'll have to pick it up tomorrow. There's no one here to get it from the back."

Fine. In the mean time, High-as-a-Kite-Dreadlock-kid comes into buy sweet cigars. Which the clerk doesn't know how to do. So she has to call someone. Which takes FOREVER, especially when you're holding...oh, nevermind.

It's our turn, at last. We scan the Dillon's card, but something is amuck. We scan again. And again.

In the meantime, Dreadlocks is back and he's brought Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum with him. Only I would never call them that to their faces, because I think they have both killed for lesser offenses. It seems Dreadlocks got the wrong flavor cigar. Tweedle Dee crosses his arms over his barrel chest and scowls at Clerk and me and QC. I shiver. Creepy. Tweedle Dum paces back and forth like he's gonna freakin' explode if he's doesn't get his freakin' cigar in like the next 10 seconds.

Clerk: "I don't know how to do a return or an exchange. I'm gonna have to call someone." Imagine that!

Me: (Loud throat Clearing)

Clerk: "It would probably be easier if I finish up with you, first, huh?"

Probably so, Einstien.

FINALLY, four cards scans later, we are the proud owners of a pool. Which we will pick up tomorrow. Tweedle Dum is about to blow and Tweedle Dee won't quit staring at us. Dreadlocks is nervously sweating. Sorry dudes, you are NOT getting invited to the Pool Party.

I adjust my grip on my produce boxes. QC grabs the chips and milk. I shove her out the door. There's a get-away car. Seriously, some even scarier looking thug is leaning out the window of his beat-up sedan with the motor running, smoking a cigarette. We practically run to the van.

QC: "Those guys were creepy, Mom."

Me: "Yes they were. A lesson to you. Nothing is so important that you need to go to the grocery store at 1 in the morning."

She looked a little freaked out.

Me: (trying to lighten things up) "But we did get our pool! And it says it only takes 15 minutes to set up and be ready for water."

QC: "But, mom, the guy who wrote that doesn't know our family!"

A sinking feeling told me she was right. After all, it only took us 60 minutes to purchase it.

And just wait until you hear what happened when we got it home and set it up. Or tried to anyway!