“No
I didn’t!” “Yes you did!”
“Stop
it! I’m telling!”
“You
aren’t my mother/boss/brother/sister/family!”
“I
hate you!”
“Are
we there yet?”
“The
next time we stop I’m leaving you all on the side of the road and you can
figure out how to get home on your own!
Oh yes I can do that. I have a job. I have all the money and I can do
whatever I want.”
That
last one was said by me. Because, after 8 hours in a car listening to my family
scream and fight I tend to become irrational. Because, well, they are
irrational.
My
name is Margo and I am one of the parental units in a blended family. Between
us we have six kids. Three boys and three girls. Like The Brady Bunch from
hell. Want to know what the worst part is? It isn’t the yelling, or the hitting,
or the forced togetherness. It is the fact that this family of mine didn’t come
with an Alice. We really need an Alice.
Before
you go getting the wrong idea, I love my family. We have been a big old (sometimes)
happy family for five years now. The oldest two will be leaving for college in
a few weeks. So, my husband and I decided we should take a family vacation
across the country. Together. In a car. With six teenagers. Apparently that
wedding came with a handy lobotomy. Did I manage to forget that I have kids? Oh
no, just that traveling with them is hell.
Did
I mention that I am making this trip alone? My wonderful, extremely lucky,
rotten louse of a husband couldn’t get off work for three more days. So he will be flying in to meet us at the
final destination. Final destination….wasn’t that a horror movie? Oh how
appropriate.
I
think I officially lost my mind 500 miles ago. I am crazy. Not in a fun Bugs
Bunny kind of way. More like in a Hannibal Lecter meets Freddie Krueger kind of
way. When we get to our camping spot (yes camping no comfy beds for us) I am
going to lock myself in the car and eat all the S’mores fixings.
Oh
good we are finally here. The older 3 argue and fight while setting up the
tents. The younger three and I stumble around looking for firewood. No fancy RV
parks for us. Our campsites are all in the middle of nowhere. That way we can
lean back and watch the satellites blink in the sky. Just like in the frontier
days. Once we get the fire started, thanks to lighter fluid and Bic, the
evening growling and barking starts. No we aren’t surrounded by wild dogs. I’m
traveling with hungry male teenagers remember? Out come the hot dogs, chips,
and all the fixings. A gourmet dinner fit for a king. Then there are the S’mores.
I sigh as I watch them slurp up all the chocolate I had planned to horde for
myself.
We
decided to hop into the nearby lake to cool and clean off. The squeals of anger
and frustration turn to squeals of fun and laughter as the kids dove into the
chilly lake. Soon the kids were playing a game of “catch the fish.” It appeared
to me that the fish were winning. I stretched out on the bank and allowed the
setting rays of sun to warm up and soothe my tired muscles.
When
the kids were good and worn out we huddled up in our sleeping bags around the
campfire. One by one the kids told stories. Funny stories about our lives
together over the last five years. Scary ghost stories that made us shiver with
fear. Plans for future family get togethers.
One
by one they drifted off to sleep there on the ground. Tents had been completely
forgotten. I lay back with a smile on my face. I pitied my poor husband for
missing this wonderful trip.
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