Travel

Traveling is a craft in my book. There are many different styles of traveling: hitch-hiking (against the law in most of the U.S., but a part of life in many other countries), backpacking, scheduled, not scheduled, destination, seat-of-your-pants, and so on. With children, I personally believe it is a combination of all of the above.

These small creatures essentially hitch-hike in the hopes that their way is paid, food will appear when they are hungry, and it doesn’t matter if they wet their pants along the way (if you are currently wondering the parallel between a hitch hiker and a diapered child, have you ever met a hitch hiker in a third world country? Exactly).

We just returned home from a six hour trip each way to my grandparents house in Nowhereville, North Carolina, and like most trips with children I am more exhausted from the trip than if I had just stayed home.

But! Many memories were created and a sound system was installed in my grandparents little country church, so mission accomplished.

What is it with a new sleeping location that causes children to sleep less? Ryder, Rory and I slept in the same room and let me tell you, there is a reason I do not sleep in the same room with my children. Many moments throughout the night Rory would scratch jail code in her sleep on the Pack ‘n Play wall; the hope of morning on her sharp-nailed finger tips. I am positive she was dreaming that they would become lasers that would incinerate the webbed walls of her crib and she could army-crawl her way to the kitchen for a third dinner. Sweet potatoes anyone? An entire Alaskan white fish? You betcha.

And what’s better than sleeping with your two year old son? Not much, let me tell you! I love size seven feety-pajamas being pressed against my temple in the morning just daring me to move. A small raspy voice, spewing a foreign language, coming from the crib cell to my left describing what my duties of the day will be. I lie there paralyzed on my wedge of the bed that is less a mattress and more a pebble in the ocean, with the potential of waking my captors and another grueling day beginning.

Truly, I have wonderful  children and I love them very much. But any seasoned, twitching-eyed, sleepless parent will tell you that thoughts of a jail cell are appealing. The idea of solitude, an eerie quiet, is something equally perplexing as potentially fantastic. I realize it is just a fantasy, an unrealistic perception, and yet it brings hope and possibility.

Did I mention that Ryder is potty training? Did I mention we started a mere two weeks ago? I like a challenge! What better than a five day trip away from home to keep one humble in such an adventure. Quite simply there are two rules 1. every 45 minutes we try regardless of his input 2. train those with you and assume nothing (sorry mom, I now understand that all parents block these memories from their consciousness and I should have never assumed that you knew the drill. Let’s just say, that country church needed a double blessing and they got it).

Ryder did great, but I have room for improvement. We had some accidents but that’s just collateral damage. If nothing else, some raccoon in Denton, NC is now properly outfitted with a stylish pair of race car underpants that he stole in the night. You’re welcome.

As the American humorist, Robert Benchley, said, “In America, there are two classes of travel: First class, and with children.” I have never wanted to pay for first class travel anyways. I was bumped one time on a flight and then received first class. It was nice, it was clean, it was spacious, it was boring. I like sitting on a pile of half-eaten gold fish crackers, finding jellybeans in my shoes, and the constant aroma of farts. Life is exciting and even more so when traveling with children.