Road Tripping

Today we took the girls on a weekend road trip and with the four of us in the car, I started thinking about the trips my family took when I was a kid. We could never get away with packing seven people in a car like we did back in the carefree seventies.

In the summer of 1976, just before I turned eight, my family took a road trip from our home in Rhode Island, down to Disney World in Florida. It was the bicentennial for the U.S. and down at Disney, they were building Epcot. I barely remember Disney but I have very vivid memories from the road trip. We were all crammed into the family station wagon. Two parents up front, my little brother (who was just three) either sat in the "way back" with me, on the hump between the front seats or in my mother's lap. I usually rode in the "way back" where we had made a nest out of sleeping bags next to our tan, hard-sided, American Tourister luggage (and where my entire box of Crayola crayons melted into the pleather sides of the back of the car). My teenaged older brothers were too big to fit back there and my sister who was 12 probably split her time between the "way back" and the back seat where she would have to sit between my brothers. We sang "100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" and did MadLibs. We identified the cabs of various 18 wheelers by their hood ornaments and logos. We played the alphabet game with license plates and road signs. We are not a quiet bunch, it's a wonder my father didn't drive off the road into a tree.

We spent three days on the road, driving to Florida. My older brothers were 16 and almost 15 and one of their hobbies was collecting beer cans. My dad always says he drank a lot of gross beer on that trip so that my brothers could get rare beer cans from southern states. Besides drinking the beer, there was another way to find cans from regional brews. Every time the sun would glint off of something on the side of the highway, my brothers would call for my dad to pull the car over. They filled the car with used beer cans during this trip (although I have no memory of where they put them). In retrospect, it's really amazing how many people must have been just driving around, drinking beer and pitching the cans out of the windows. America the Beautiful, my ass!

I remember at one point during the trip, my dad, who was a two-pack-a-day smoker (Tareytons - do they even exist anymore?), coughed up this big phlegm ball and just hocked it out the open window. Well, since it was a hot summer day and we didn't have air conditioning in the old station wagon, the back windows were open too. I will never forget my oldest brother crying out in disgust when that glutinous projectile came right back in the window and hit him in the face.

Ahh, summer road trips. They just make me so nostalgic. That was the summer I learned how babies were made too. More on that another time...

A Rest Room?

Note: This post contains references to bodily functions. If you are squeamish, don't read it...

The bathroom is supposed to be a place for privacy, right? You get to go in, close the door and be alone with your thoughts and bodily functions. WRONG! Not in my house. With two small daughters, I am almost never alone in the bathroom. I cherish the ugly salmon-colored stalls at work where I can actually do my business alone. I make frequent trips to the bathroom when I'm there just so I don't forget what it's like to pee in private.

This morning I was home with the girls - one of them is recovering from a random summer fever and the other has just come down with it. When I went into the bathroom to use the toilet, this was the scene: the baby was sitting on the floor, pulling at the small bits of toilet paper that are always stuck to the empty roll. My pre-schooler is standing next to me as I sit on the toilet, holding onto my left arm, as she often does when she needs comfort or a snuggle. Needless to say this is not the easiest way to get your body to produce its waste. It appeared that this would be an unproductive trip so I stood up to finish my business and discovered that today was the day that my period decided to make its reappearance - after 2 lovely years without it (yes, that's what happens when pregnant and then nursing). What a kick in the pants! Of course the only pad that I can find is leftover from just after the baby was born. It resembles an inflatable mattress. The pre-schooler wants to know, "What's that, mama? What are you doing?"

Even as I write this post, the baby has her head in my lap and the pre-schooler is jumping up and down and singsonging that she needs to poop and can I please come sit outside the bathroom door while she does that? Sigh. There are certainly worse problems in the world than having two lovely little girls who want their mama!

Nursery School

Some of my fondest memories from early childhood come from the nursery school I went to before I started kindergarten. I was the only kid in my family to go to pre-school and I'm convinced that my mother did it because I was driving her nuts.

It all started because I wanted to be just like my big sister. Everyday she got to leave our house and go to school - totally not fair! I wanted to go to school too, even though I was only 3 1/2 or 4 years old. I stood at the door every morning as my sister left; I watched her go and I cried and cried. My mother had another baby at home to take care of and I'm sure that I was really annoying her. So, she sent me off to preschool.

I don't remember how often I went. I just know that I loved it. I wanted to go to school all the time. We did so many fun things there. I loved my teacher. We called her Mrs. Van. She had a very long, Nordic sounding name and I have no idea what it really was.

For years, my mother kept on her dresser a picture that I made for her while I was in nursery school. It was a cheap plastic frame that we had covered in glue and then dipped into little bits of colored gravel - like the kind you would find at the bottom of a fish tank. Inside the frame was a picture of me washing up in a vat of soapy water. I was smiling like crazy.

I remember taking naps there and I have a clear memory of this thought I had that it was really weird to have to lie down on a mat next to other kids to take a nap. I know I said that I wasn't going to sleep and Mrs. Van asked me to take a little rest - I'm sure I fell asleep - they always trick you with the, "just close your eyes and rest" thing.

I also remember that I learned how to put my coat on while I was at nursery school. They used the same technique that I now use to teach my daughter to put on her coat - we call it "the flip." You put the coat, arms spread open, on the floor. Then you stand at the top by the collar and stick your arms in the sleeves. You flip the coat over your head and voilà, your coat is on - or if you are an exuberant child like my daughter, your coat is on the floor, halfway across the room.

Just thinking about my time in nursery school makes me smile. It was a special place. Even if I did have my first experience with getting stitches while there. More on that later...