Holy Crap I'm 40: Road Trip Edition

The wise Ferris Bueller once said, "Life goes by pretty fast, if you don't take the time to look around once in a while, you might miss it." This becomes more and more true as you get older. If you are blessed to have children, you really want them to like you, because you want them to spend time with you. Yes, this is bad parenting, but when you turn 40 you realize not to sweat the small stuff. Be the best parent you can, or face the consequences-a really stinky nursing home. This is why, for 8 summers, I, along with husband #1(still the only husband) piled in the car with our three male heirs and drove across country to see baseball stadiums. And because I am so practical, and learned from shlepping suitcases on our first road trip, we now pack in garbage bags. Why? Because then they become laundry bags. (Don't knock it until you've tried it!)

Hey Bueller, you don't miss a lot when you are sitting in a car with your family. And here is how one of those summers came to be...

Summer of Banji Not Meant to Be

So I thought that I was going to have two months to myself this summer. Son #1 was going off to a foreign land. For several days he is going to be sleeping in a forest with no cell reception or working toilets, but I rationalized that if my forefathers could survive 40 years in the desert, my son could survive four nights in the forest. And what I don't know won't hurt me. My other two boys will be enjoying summer camp. Again, I thought I was going to be off mommy-duty for almost eight whole weeks.

Why are they not staying for two months? Well, husband #1(yes, still my husband) and I gave them a choice. Two months and no baseball trip or one month and a baseball trip. And as I stood in front of my beautiful boys, with my eyes closed tightly, fingers and toes crossed, praying, "Dear lord, let them choose camp, let them choose camp I don't care how many kidneys I have to sell to be able to pay for it, please choose camp,"

They Chose Me! (Well, Baseball... )

They chose the baseball trip. Really? I am the bitchiest, crankiest, moodiest mom... and these boys chose to spend 50 hours of driving with me. (Well, and their dad, who is the opposite of me). Are my packing/laundry/cooking abilities really that wonderful? Are they that afraid of going to a Minnesota Twins game in their pajamas because I am not there to give them their clothes? That's right, I said Minnesota. Minne-freakin-sota. And Kansas City. And St. Louis.

Have you seen The Wizard of Oz? I am convinced our minivan, fuzzy dice and all, are going to get swept up in a tornado. I am even thinking of buying all of us matching ruby slippers. But, they chose me. (And their father, again, the opposite of me). So I should just shut up, pack our set of matching garbage bag luggage, and appreciate the time I have with them because life does move pretty fast, and before I know it, they will not won't to spend anytime with me. (Or their father, who is the opposite of me, still).