Responsible parenting and leadership are a start. In between reaching for the sky (Toy Story rocks).

Screw the darkness. I prefer the lightness of Pop.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Ah, more dumbstick and the sacrificial soles

The irony wasn't lost on me. The fact that the only exercise we're getting on our family vacation is keeping time the B-hive and sleep deprivation.

And then I lost my running shoes. Gone. Vanished. Somewhere between playing in the fountains at Jamison Square in Portland with a good friend and his family, our motel and the Oregon Zoo, I lost them.

How? Who the heck knows. The point is they're gone. Vanished. Never to be run or walked in again. I brought them as walking shoes in case I got a chance to run, which I didn't, as mentioned above.

The fairy godmother dumbstick strikes again.

It was worth the sacrificial soles, though. I think. Running and working out just wasn't in the family vacation plan anyway. My God, just keeping up with and managing the B-hive temperament was stressful and strenuous enough.

When we first got to Jamison Square, I rolled over dog poop with the stroller and then stepped in it, right as Mama was saying, "Watch out for the dog poop!" Great. Then I chased Bea around the park fountain and I couldn't get her out. But once she got surprise splashed by a little boy, I couldn't get her back in. After lunch with our friends, it was time for the B-hive to nap and so we went to our motel, getting lost along the way (why are the Northwest roads and byways like the confusing Northeast?). However, once there, naps were out of the question, so we packed the girls back up and took them to the zoo. Bea loves animals and Bryce is starting to as well, but the Portland summer heat wilted us all after an hour or so, and then back to the car we went.

That's when the real unhappy shrieks began.

We were driving to our same friend's house for dinner and highway construction slowed us to a crawl.

And that's when the unhappy shrieks escalated.

Five minutes with a crying baby is a long, long time. Like 4-6 weeks in parent time. Really, you know what I mean if you have kids.

So 20 minutes of crying on a crowded highway is excruciating for all parties including the toddler sister. Enough to make you want to head to the airport and go home, which of course would've been even more insane.

This is why we always try to align the car travel time with baby naps and the toddler afternoon nap. Sometimes we get it right, but otherwise I'm better off making string theory a reality.

We survived though and had a great pizza party with our friends while the girls played with their children. Bubbles were being blown everywhere, from a Buzz Lightyear bubble blower to manual ones, the kids were digging it. And so were we!

All I had to wear most of the day were flip flops and dress shoes, and of course the flip flops won out, although I really could've used my sacrificial running shoes. My cheap sunglasses and my decent everyday watch became part of the sacrifices for the day as well because both broke that same day.

That night in the hotel was a little sketchy -- sharing with two little ones isn't the travel glamour of our past lore. We did manage to get some sleep and then we were off to see Nana and Papa down the Oregon coast.

And that was only the first 24 hours. Good times. Really. Next up -- Nana and Papa time.


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