Life on the Road

Last night, we arrived home after a 2-day, seemingly endless road trip from the mountains of North Carolina to South Florida. In the car were 5 kids, a dog, an intermittently cranky husband and yours truly, and behind us, we were towing a U-Haul trailer filled with furniture and whatnot.

It was a good thing we had the trailer, because I don't know how we could have fit all of our stuff in the car otherwise. On the way up, we had one less kid, since my son had gone a week early with his grandparents as a way of giving us extra room and reducing friction between him and his four sisters. Now we had him, plus all of his stuff.

We have an Expedition, so there are two back seats, and we were constantly doing a shell game, trying to rearrange the children to avoid fighting and minimize car sickness, as much as possible. On several occasions, the iPhone was our savior. When the little one was in tears because someone was mean to her, she stopped crying once she was offered the phone to play with. Other arguing was avoided by keeping the kids busy playing games or listening to music on the phone (a headphone splitter also came in handy). Of course, then we had fighting about who's turn it was to have the phone, but what can you do? Overall, it was a win.

Some of the car sickness complaints were successfully dealt with by putting a couple of drops of peppermint essential oil on a napkin and giving it to the girls to smell. I've found that having some key essential oils is a big help on a trip (and at home). Lavender helps minor cuts and scrapes heal quicker and relaxes the kids for bedtime. Tea tree, eucalyptus and lemon essential oils fight viruses and infections. It worked to help get rid of a nasty flu-like virus I had and that my daughter Mia was just starting to feel the effects of too. If you use essential oils, make sure you dilute them in another oil like almond or jojoba; otherwise, they can burn the skin.

Anyway, the good news is that we made it home safely. We will be returning the trailer tomorrow, which will be fantastic because I can't use my truck with that thing on the back since I don't know how to back up with it. When we got home, our pool was a swamp-like green color, but it is getting better since we added a bunch of shock. All in all, we're settling back in to normal life, with the exception of five kids rattling around with nothing much to do for the rest of the summer.

Anyone want to rent a kid or two?

The Hotel Mentality

My husband, Tony travels. A lot. In a typical month, he spends about 2 and a half weeks out of town, much of which spans over weekends since he travels internationally and coming home for weekends just isn’t an option. All this traveling means that he spends a lot of time in hotels. When he is not traveling, he works from home since his company’s office is in Maryland and we live in Florida (which also means he needs to fly up there whenever he needs to meet face to face with anyone in the company).

Despite the fact that he misses me and the kids and calls often, there is one ray of sunshine in the traveling life for him. It’s the hotels. Hotels are always clean, with daily maid service. No one else’s stuff has been left around, so he can arrange his stuff as he likes. There are no little curious hands to snatch his IPhone and leave it on the floor near the bed or to spray his shaving cream on the bathroom mirror. There is no refrigerator that can be left open or cartons of orange juice that are spilled on the ground and left to dry to a tacky mess. There are no little scientists trying to grow penicillin in dishes of neglected food smuggled into their rooms. There is also a certain silence, one without earsplitting screams of “So and so hurt me!” or a sullen, “Why do I have to do it?”

Here’s the problem. Tony comes home from his travels and brings the hotel mentality with him. He starts out eager to see us and hugs and kisses everyone. Once the excitement wears off, he looks around and oftentimes, that is when the hotel mentality kicks in. Total bewilderment at the backpacks carelessly tossed by the front door. Consternation at the sloppily done chores. Disbelief at the baskets of clean laundry waiting to be folded and put away. Shock at the decibel level of kids playing or fighting. “Where is my ordered, quiet world, where some invisible angel turns down my sheet and leaves a small chocolate?” he must wonder.

After a long trip, it takes him about two or three days to adjust to the real reality. Life is messy. Kids are loud. We don’t have a full time maid (or any maid, for that matter). And it’s all OK.

"Now, for heaven's sake," I tell him, "take some vacation time and take me to a hotel!"