I'm on day three of being a travel widow and phsaw, this sucks ass.
On Monday, in route to going to my chiropractor (a 40-minute drive without construction and holy shit, was there ever an ass-load of construction that day) Darwin decided it was a perfect time to get motion sickness and spew all over the van one mile away from our exit.
Of course I had no towels, no clean clothes. Hell, I didn't even have a clean diaper.
I'm awesome like that.
So I pull into the driveway of the local crunchy grocery store and strip him down to his underpants and shoes (both were luckily spared). I took him in the store, wiped him down and bought lollipops and and paper towels.
Again with the awesomeness.
Then we went to the chiropractor. Dude, my back was killing me. I wasn't about to go through all that shit to not still go the chiropractor. Have some priorities people.
Then we got home and I got the lovely pleasure of cleaning out the van.
Nothing says Hi! Welcome to my home! quite like a porch that needs to be sweeped and clothes covered in vomit. Two days later and they are still there.
Awesome, awesome, awesome.
Yesterday was another crazy day with a three-hour play date (three! hour! play! date!) and an insane trip to Whole Foods, where I spent more time standing in line than getting food.
Last night after dinner I played video games with the children.
Griffin and I have reached a new level of our relationship from the video games. We've both learned how to calm the fuck down because we both can't get the all the points. There's some give and take, you get that diamond, I'll get the banana. You know, it's not like we're going to compete in the International Bubble Bobble World Series here.
So, anyway, we are playing. Every thing's fine. Griffin get stuck, no big deal, it's common: you get stuck a lot. So I get all the bad guys so we're getting ready to move to the next level. A big cake comes floating down the screen. Griffin goes ape shit.
One minute, he's sitting here - a normal boy, playing video games, having fun. The next minute, he's throwing a shit fit, screaming, trashing around the room, turning into a puddle of tears.
Never mind the fact that he was stuck. Never mind the fact the cake was motherfuckin' mine (I killed the bad guys! The cake was TOTALLY MINE). But the fact that I got the Big Awesome Cake and he didn't sends Griffin so far over the edge that I wished I had a children's straight jacket laying around.
I'm sure there's a point somewhere in here. Some infinite level of Life Wisdom. But I forgot what it was. You know, other than the fact of being a travel widow sucks ass.