Joe has this little term he likes to use when we are in one of those “dear God, I might just lose my mind if I have to do ____(insert parental chore here) any more with these screaming kids”
Making memories Meghan, making memories.
Like somehow I will look back on this moment in the distant future with a halcyon haze and think to myself “those were the BEST days of my life”. Although the idea of both kids crying, a husband who is long past his personal limits for patience and another 1 ½ in the car as the golden standard for “good times” doesn’t quite resonate with me. But I am getting ahead of myself.
The “Making Memories” phrase normally gets muttered more than one (two dozen plus) times on any sort of road trip. It almost becomes our mantra. And I should explain our road trips rarely take in excess of 3-4 hours as that is as far as we have dared go with both kids in tow.
Until this weekend.
Understand that this weekend should NOT have broken the 4 hour rule. Should not have. Famous last words.
But it was Memorial Day.
It was a LONG weekend.
It was a chance to get out of town and do something different.
In a nutshell, we were invited down to Joe’s best friends family weekend celebration. We were going to camp. And no, the camping isn’t what makes this story. THAT part, went pretty well. This coming from a girl whose idea of camping is renting a cabin. That is rustic to me. But I went along with it. Joe doesn’t get to see Jesse very often and frankly, we needed a change of pace, even a 48 hour one. So we headed south. To the town where Joe went to college. Somewhere in small town Missouri. And we had a great weekend. All things considered, the kids were great. We drank too much, there were bonfires, sprinklers, frogs, bugs, bare feet and kids running totally amok and falling asleep in a tangle of arms and legs because they had run themselves to exhausted. Basically, some sort of all-American camping weekend. At least what I would imagine that to be.
So we said our goodbyes and got into the stuffed car – whole other post on traveling with 2 small kids in a sedan – to head north. I should explain first and foremost, the trip down was uneventful. 2 lane state highway all the way. Actually a nice drive. So we get on the road and as we are headed out of town, Joe says we should swing through this little town, Lexington. There was a Civil War battle there and you can still see the cannonballs in the county courthouse in the town square.
See, wasn’t joking about small town Missouri. Town squares. Civil War. And we passed through like 3 dozen of them like that on the way down. And the populations on any one of them was never more than like, 1500 people.
So being a history dork, I think sure… we have no agenda. The kids had already fallen asleep and it was only going to add like 30 minutes to our drive. As we were right at about 3.5 hours for the drive home, seemed like a nice way to end the weekend.
So we made the turn. And took the short detour. And we made it to Lexington. And low and behold, there they were, 150 year old cannon balls still in the courthouse columns. Drove along the town main road that looks over the Missouri river. Actually, quite nice. And then we missed the other turn we needed to make.
Now for those of you that have spent any time driving state highways, there is always a town every 20 miles or so, tons of signs telling you what road you are on. And normally, taking one in the direction you are heading will result in you finding your way back to the route you had wanted. These were all facts that we were banking on. So it was novel at first. Sorta scenic and the kids were still asleep. And then we started seeing signs for Kansas City. And Joe didn’t want to mess with traffic around KC. And he says “we will go this way, I will just head north and we will figure it out”. And took a right onto some road.
Making memories.
Keep in mind one small, teeny little detail that we had overlooked in our we-will-just-head-north idea. We didn’t have a map in the car. So the well marked 2 lane highway soon turns into a road. Dangerously close to a dirt road but still paved. We are on the GPS on our phones, but it keeps jumping all over the place. My sense of novelty is starting to wear off. With that is a growing sense that we have entered Deliverance country and at any time this whole thing is going to go HORRIBLY south. Figuratively that is, not literally. Not that we would have known if we were going south. This is made all the worse when after rounding another corner of deep foliage and not a sign of humanity, Joe says to be “are you starting to wonder if at some point some militia is going to stop us and demand to know what us ‘northerners’ are doing in some goddamn foreign car driving around their land”. The answer to that was a nervous laugh and us ending up at an intersection where 3 of the options were met with a “Dead End” sign. The ONLY signs we had seen for about 20 minutes. It is at this point that Joe effectively looses it. Now, I married my husband for a number of reasons. He makes me laugh, is a great dad, has a kind heart and a devil may care smile that will charm your pants off (see my two kids) – one of the reasons that I did NOT marry my husband was for his patience. Or decided lack thereof. So between me trying to get a read on the GPS while he keeps making twists and turns, rather than just stopping to get our bearings, the string of expletives starts. Along with the throwing of the cell phone (his not mine), and a rather abrupt stop in the middle of nowhere but close to somewhere. After a rant of a few minutes in which Finn woke up – learning some new words I am sure – we got back on the road. Started seeing signs of civilization and a sign for Sugar Creek, MO. And through nothing short of total and pure luck, found our way to a marked highway that had us in North KC and looking for I-35. And another 2.5 hours to get home.
Making memories.
So in short (and according to Google maps and a rough guess of where we actually were…)
Marshall, MO to Lexington, MO – roughly 40 miles
Lexington, MO to Sugar Creek, MO – roughly 35 miles
Sugar Creek, MO to Liberty, MO - roughly 20 miles.
Making memories.
And one would think that would be the end to the drama. But no. At this point, we get gas – I was getting nervous that not only would we be stuck on the two lane back road hell forever, but at some point we would run out of gas and we would have to use some moonshine from some home still to get the car moving. So gas up. Kids awake. Turn on a DVD for Finn and I take over driving. Joe is thinking that he will get some sleep. Kids it seemed had another idea. Faolan isn’t one to be shy when it comes to letting you know what she thinks. And keep in mind, at 11 months there are only so many ways to communicate. Key among them ….crying. So about an hour into our now interstate drive, she starts getting fussy. Joe is annoyed. Fuse is all but gone at this point. Trys to calm her down. Works a few times for about 10 minutes each. But nothing is really making her happy. Pull over once and change her. Pull over again and get a bottle for her. Both times it creates a temporary reprieve. And of course, the whole time Finn is watching his movie and alternately providing a soundtrack of “Oh NO…what happen Mama??” and “LIGHTENING MCQUEEN” at the top of his voice. Add to that cacophony of toddler narration, a cranky crying 11 month old, the radio that I was trying to listen to and patience levels left somewhere with the Civil War cannonballs and you see how darn enjoyable the car ride was at this point. So Joe decides he has had it. He looks at me and says “We are not stopping this car until we get home” and then proceeds to squeeze his 300 plus pound frame into the seat –and I use that term very loosely – between the two car seats in the back of the car to keep Faolan entertained for the rest of the ride. His feet sticking out on the arm rest between the front seats.
Making memories.
I am pleased to let you know that we did in fact, make it home. In one piece. No one that much worse for the wear. And hell, we may even go camping again. But we put the kids to bed, had a drink (or two) and promptly fell asleep on the couch without saying much of anything to each other.
Making.
Memories.
Now Listening: God Willing And The Creek Don’t Rise by Ray LaMontagne and the Pariah Dogs
