All I can say is, when the husband sauntered out of the petrol station after our last pitstop with bread and milk, I nearly kissed his genius feet.
We were smashing it.
This road tripping traveling with kids malarkey was a cinch. We were on the home stretch. Sydney; HERE WE COME!
That was possibly the last time I smiled for two days.
It was about here that shit went south.
“Just smile and wave, boys, smile and wave,” was starting to wear thin from the back seat ‘cinema’ and it’s initial Madagascar cool was no longer even remotely funny. The natives were getting restless. Granted, it is a bloody long drive up the Hume and they had been incredible for the last 750km’s or so.
Whilst everyone bows down to the driver and awards them hero status, I would like to take this opportunity to acknowledge the true value of the shot-gun Queen (and please note; this Queen had already done a stint of driving, too, thanks very much). Because who needs Pilates, right? I was stretching and twisting like a master from one child to the next…tissue, drink, toy, “(s)he’s not looking at you,” and repeat…. Next I was watching the cars fly past as I sat sideways to ‘pat’ the daughter, who was now screaming that we were all too noisy and she wanted to sleep, just as the Sydney signs began appearing. The other child had developed toy repellent hands and everything I threw at him to buy five minutes of peace would slip to the floor. I was forced to perform incredible manoeuvres only fit for the circus simply to retrieve them….all whilst pat, pat, patting, shhh, shhh, shhh’ing…
Of course, after ten minutes of contortion twists, apparently she wasn’t tired after all, she was HUNGRY!!! Yes, the whole state of NSW. Surely you all heard her scream that…again, and again, and again….?
Loads of room…nice and snug.
Previously, when we had sang, played eye spy and rationed the travel treats, the kilometres just slid by. Now we were all stuck in some joke of a time warp, where the minutes continued to drag along, but the km’s didn’t. Now I was throwing lollies and tiny teddies over my shoulder at force, as I begged them to have more screen time.
“Please, kids, Madagascar is even funnier the fourth time around.”
Yes, we had armed ourselves with a whole plethora of DVD’s, but this one seemed to be the only one they wanted, and of course, it now featured a tiny, yet hugely annoying scratch somewhere. But it seems now even this nugget wouldn’t satisfy them.
“WWWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
For the love of Christmas, we just stopped half an hour ago.
Was she playing us?
Were we prepared to run the risk and call her bluff?
“PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
She won.
The weather was hot and those roadside loos stink. I gagged whilst she giggled.
A couple of forced drops and no poo later, we were back on the road. Maybe the stop was a circuit breaker? Maybe we would be OK? Surely we were inside the hour now? I needed a shower and I was fantasising about how long I would stand in that watery silence for, and exactly which fresh, non-holiday clothes I would put on straight out of my cupboard.
We hit traffic.
I groaned and swallowed…and…it hurt. I swallowed again to double check…actually, it really hurt. My neck felt a bit stiff and I was sweating despite the air conditioning.
You.must.be.joking!
Not today, tonsillitis; there is nothing here for you to see, you wretched stalker. I cannot deal with you, too.
Maybe it would go away….I tried to ignore it.
My fantasy was now swapping between pain medication, a shower and soft pillows.
We inched along through the traffic as the minutes raced away from us.
And then the neighbourhood ran alongside us. The kids started laughing and pointing at familiar sights. We all perked up a little and talked about how we would head straight down to the beach, do a quick shop for a steak and shiraz night (geeze we needed a crisp, fresh salad) and how we wouldn’t unpack a thing until tomorrow. (NB#: husband was due back at work the next day; his suggestions, obviously).
In reality, once we pulled into our car park, blocked the lift for a solid 10 minutes as we loaded it with our gear, and threw ourselves on to the couch, that all dissolved in an instant. But of course, the kids bums still needed wiping, drink bottles and fave teddies needed locating and they apparently still required entertaining, despite 2 solid weeks of holidays. We ate toast for dinner and the husband boldly faced an unidentified casserole thingy out of the freezer.
The pain killers gently touched the sides as I bravely confronted the pile of ‘stuff’…simply because it was blocking the way to the bedroom. I pushed it aside and walked around it.
I was in bed at 7pm.
Happy holidays.
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