Olympic Car Travels

An Olympic gold medal would be nice. I’m expecting to be recognized by the medal committee in the next few weeks. I plan to take home the gold from London and nothing less for surviving what many parents would never attempt. I strongly feel after nearly 60 hours in a minivan with my six family members, I deserve to be recognized. At the very least, my patience with five children ages’ 4-16 and my creativity to keep them from killing each other in a confined space for over 3200 miles deserves something.

With hopes set entirely too high on my part, my family recently traveled to southern California for a vacation. I’m still recovering and now need to be coerced into my minivan for even a five-minute jaunt across town. I’m either really claustrophobic now or I’ve crossed over the crazy line and can’t find my way back. I’m sure in the near future I’ll think this is a good idea again; kind of like natural childbirth.

Stuffing seven people into a seven-passenger van (who knew the following year’s Honda Odyssey would have eight seats) was a bit cramped. The older three children rotated sitting in the back row between two car seats. It’s not comfortable for anyone, even my daughter who resembles a string bean. With a large cooler, snacks galore, pillows and blankets, it’s a miracle we even fit. Our bags totaled eleven! One of my daughters brought three, with one entirely stuffed with just shoes. I think I need to teach this one the definition of packing lightly and leave out the fact that I once did the same thing.

On our way back from California, I became convinced that the state of New Mexico doubled in size. I thought I’d never see the Texas border again. After stopping at what felt like hundreds of bathrooms, there are several I can now recommend avoiding at all costs. I never thought the side of a highway could look so appealing. I opted out though for fear someone would see me on a Google Earth phone app.

As we entered Oklahoma, my allergies kicked in almost immediately. Apparently they grow the same plants and grasses as Kansas. And my hair that air- dried into wavy curls in California, went back to frizz head of the Midwest (Hello flat iron.)

The longer I road in the van coming home, the tighter my seatbelt felt and I couldn’t get comfortable. I clearly didn’t exercise enough when I was away to burn off all the Mexican food I consumed. It’s simply not fair a woman’s metabolism slows down the older she gets.

I think driving to the destination is always more exciting and seems to go faster than the return trip. I guess it might be the closer one gets to home, the more a person thinks about all that needs to get done once they arrive. I’m still doing laundry and I swear it’s multiplying like bunnies overnight. I can’t seem to make any headway. And my house looks like it hasn’t been dusted in years. There are cobwebs everywhere! That means there’s spiders lurking somewhere too. Now I’m completely freaked out.

Hopefully the next time I think a road trip this long is a good idea, a friend will knock me out and drop me at the nearest airport. My husband and children can drive in the minivan and meet me there. In the meantime, I’m holding out for my gold medal.

Compliments of the Atchison Globe