The Vomit Comet

Went on the most awesome family vacation to California, compliments of my parents. Took the whole clan except for one brother and his wife as they are currently quite occupied with the whole gestating process. And, bar none, it was the most awesome vacation ever. Thirteen of us began the trip together and as we had three cars to keep a safe distance between all of us, thirteen of us returned, albeit one of us with only one good arm when she started with two perfectly fine ones. The vacation was so big and taught us so many exciting and unusual things that I will have to outline it for our remembrance over the next couple of weeks.

One of the important things we learned was that our little clan seemed to have a humongous Mercury Marquis to ourselves all the time even though we offered to switch it up as we drove somewhere around half the distance to the moon and back over eight days. Offered to spend some quality car time with the siblings in their car. Made an exciting offer for others to experience our children’s wonder of the experience while also thinking of new and creative answers to the “are we there yet?” question. Heck, the vehicle had enough room for the four of us and approximately 27 circus clowns. As long as they were the short kind. And, one elephant that wasn’t quite full grown.

Obviously, the perfect car for me to be driving around the mountainous roads. Could get it to bank in the turns which provided a good forum for the Peruvian to show his courage to the kids. He appreciates me giving him those opportunities as often as I can. Can just see it in his eyes. What a learning experience the driving was for them. It was just like driving on the open ocean – lean to the right, lean to the left, lean to the right and so on.

But, there was some unfortunate 40-year old karma at work here. Seems I made the same trip, same road with my folks when I was four. Rental car then too. And, I was such a considerate child. After all, I cared enough not to vomit in the car we owned. At least not on this trip. Nope, saved my vomiting violently for the rental car my father needed to use to drive his business associates around in the next day. Sort of recall that he wasn’t too happy about it. But, heck, if it was the 60’s, should have been easy enough to hose off the vinyl seats.

Now, cars have changed over the years but some things stay the same. Yosemite National Park has some pretty curvy roads to drive a barge around. And this can make folks feel a bit funny. Which is somewhat how Aidan explained to us that perhaps he was feeling a tad odd. Sort of went like him vomiting and then stating the obvious and with great surprise, “Hey, I just threw up” causing me to look in the rear view mirror just in time to see the second explosion coming right at my head. Dead aim. Have to admit I’ve never seen anything quite like it with the exception of that Exorcist scene. I expertly ducked while keeping the car on the road and then pulled over to discover that yes, he had indeed exploded and yes, there may have been some validity to suggestions that perhaps my insistence that the son drink large quantities of water so he didn’t get dehydrated might somewhat have caused the explosion. Mia thought it was rather awesome. You could see the respect in her eyes as she realized that her brother apparently has some kind of fountain built in. Way cooler than that one you run in at the park. She gave him some hearty applause.

Well, cars no longer come with vinyl seats to easily hose off. At this point, I’m thinking that is a retro fad we need to bring back along with those vinyl couch covers that your legs stuck too. But, I digress.

Ever resourceful, we stopped at the next completely out of the way gas station to begin the process of clean up. Don’t know how much they appreciated me washing the floor mat in their windshield washing bucket but since they didn’t stop me, I figured what the heck, I’ll do it and then accidentally kick it over which worked swimmingly. Fortunately, it was a dive of a place. We bought an $8 roll of paper towels; a $10 box of Clorox wipes, and then locked ourselves in a bathroom with a utility sink – especially designed for hosing down children of all sizes and apparently emptying mop buckets or who knows what.

All while we were using their store as a kid wash; the operators stood behind the counter and watched the activity which somehow made it a bit more sick fun. Would have taken bets they would have at least asked what the heck we were doing but, nope, we walked back and forth in front of the counter on the way to the utility sink, carrying wet clothes, a wet car seat, and a wet kid. Guess they figured it was a bit more info than they wanted.

Finally finished up and considerately suggested to the kids that they could finish the ride in the trunk. They were game until I explained that little problem me might have with Eric Estrada or whomever has replaced him on the California Highway Patrol. So it was back into the barge to continue our tour.

And those people are...

Yep, we're those people who think that trading our personal dignity for a free chicken sandwich is a fabulous idea. Had the kids perfect their "moos" before the first run which happened to be lunch. Of they went with the husband who wore just a hat. Didn't qualify for a combo. Just for clarity's sake, he did also have a shirt, shoes and pants, they just weren't bovine friendly. Would have qualified for something else without them, I'm sure. Unfortunately, I hadn't been available to quality control the bovine wear as I was kept away by this pesky thing called work.

But, I returned in time for dinner. Ramped up the costuming by stringing some advertising around everyone's neck. Explained the concept of "totally dressed like cows", quality controlled and then headed out. We wanted those combos, by gosh, and there was no stopping us. The fries were ours.

Cow Appreciation Day

So it apparently Cow Appreciation day this Friday and the crowd just can't wait. The Peruvian does appear to be trying to catch sick to be exempted but what kind of family would we be if we allowed that to happen? Not wanting him to miss the excitement, we will roll him in, if necessary.
Monday, while still apparently on California time, I just got all caught up in the excitement at the local Chick-filet. Couldn't avoid it what with the balloons, cow hats and the promise of free food for all cows on Friday. Got the kids jazzed up when I informed them that we were going to dress up like cows on Friday and then venture out into our nearest Chick-Filet for FREE dinner. One even called me at work the next day to see if I could just take all of Friday off so we could exploit the free food deal by taking our three meals at three different stores all while dressed like cows. Apparently, he is beginning to think like his mother which seems to be of concern to his father. Some muttering about not being able to handle "your mother" in stereo. Of course, that will not be necessary as the son and I will quickly bring Mia into the fold so their father can hear with BOSE type clarity- sound from all direction.

Chick-filet suggests that their cows are white with black spots. Of course, that may be true but as the son pointed out, they may also be black cows with really, really big white spots which is good because the husband somehow has managed to misplace every single piece of white clothing in the house since my annnouncement of this family celebration Monday evening. We'll give him the good news 2 minutes before departure when we start sticky taping white spots on him. Of course, if Mia is responsible for this task, all of the spots will be at 24" or less but we can always tell the Chick-filet folks that he is a mutant. Wouldn't want him to go hungry after all. May even get him a happy balloon.

It's not 10:00 pm in China

We're going to Yosemite next week, all 12 of us in my family. Of course with any trip, careful and thoughful planning ahead is the ticket. Not a ticket that I would normally have punched but there is some tent camping, bear lockering and the issue of what animal cry I will be trying to pass Mia's yelling off as to consider.

So I begin. Checked out the Yosemite tent cabins we will be residing in. Find that they have the folllowing posted policy:

Quiet Hours : Because of the nature of the tent cabins, it is imperative that everyone respect the quiet hours which are posted from 10:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. Failure to comply may result in disrespectful guests being asked to vacate the camp.

So, I am envisioning the rangers dragging us off as I explain to them that it clearly isn't between 10:00 p.m. and 6:00 a.m. everywhere in the world and hey, they didn't specify a time zone on their sign. That should do it.

And, there is also Chickie the Miscreant and the issue of bears to consider. I'm sleeping on that one.

Nuns explained

So, as a good Catholic girl, it is of utmost importance to make sure that I inoculate the kids with a good dose of nun respect. Due to the paucity of nuns in full habits in my local schools, raising the kids with the preferred dose of nun fear is, unfortunately, not possible so settling for the lesser nun respect has to do. Granted, the kids will never understand the evils of singing Meatloaf’s Paradise by the Dashboard Light at the top of their lungs in the school lunch room which is clearly a shame. As was made clear to me, such singing paves the road to hell. That is, except for the folks who have to listen to such warbling which is clearly considered an act of penance. I learned that those folks get to go to the front of the line while I’ll still be working on sleeping on it and praying for the end of time, oh, I’ll be praying for the end of time.

But, as usual, I digress. Due to my thoughtful parenting philosophy, I know it is not good to confuse eager young minds even if I have no clue how not to do so. I know that the nun life lesson should wait until the son is at least out of the severe nightmare phase before I thoughtfully and respectfully explain in my clear manner how women wearing robes, veils and clanking chains of rosaries and who may be inclined to come after you with a stick significantly differ from the ghost of Christmas past with all of his accoutrements. For the good of all, I put this little life lesson on the shelf.

However, the nun explanation task is taken off the shelf by my lovely mother, she of daily Mass attendance. Lo, she provides the son with the Catholic Readers Digest version of convent life and the religious vocation with a visual aid. Having been a teacher and all, it is clear she recognizes that the multi media approach to explaining Catholicism is the way to go. She pulls out and demonstrates Nunzilla, a windup walking nun dressed in a full habit that spits sparks out of her mouth as she goes. And, the mother further demonstrates to the son just how cool it is that nuns walk along just spitting fire until they somehow fall off a cliff as represented by the living room table. Apparently, a demonstration of their selflessness. Quite the education.

So, we are sitting in our designated pew in the church, the one which is the second from the front. As it is my policy that we need to sit close enough to the front that the kids think the priest or Jesus can just reach out and wop them if they misbehave, we are firmly planted in our seats when it happens. A nun appears in full habit and walks right in front of us to receive communion. And, as she prayerfully pauses in front of us, the son uses his yelling inside the church voice to ask, “Is that a nunny?” Upon confirmation of the same, he then gets really excited and asks if “THAT IS A REAL NUNNY????”

I quickly let the son know in my inside church, “you’d better watch it” voice that yes, it is a nun, not a nunny as nunnies only come out at Halloween with their cousins the mummies and, if she hears him, it is likely she will turn toward him and sparks will fly from her mouth. Sounded like a perfectly reasonable thing to tell him at the time as all good Catholic school kids know that sparks flying from a nun’s mouth is generally fair warning that she might be a tad bent out of shape and, as a result, might do some general nun damage and the kid would therefore take it as a cue to shut up and exit stage left. And, had he been a good Catholic school kid, it may have worked. One of those little, annoying details. As it was, he publicly communicated his desire to “SEE THE SPARKS COMING OUT OF HER MOUTH.” Although I also thought that would be pretty darn cool, I knew I must react quickly and decisively and I did. I put my hands on my hips, turned toward the husband and gave him my best "I can NOT believe what you have taught our son" look until the said nun was far enough away not to wop me with a stick. Better safe than sorry.

Working Vacation

Took the kids on vacation.

Had a nice place all picked out when it rained and I had to make alternative plans. After some thought, I figured that I could turbo charge their experience and turn it into working fun and it would be way, way better than just petting and feeding animals at a park. Not like the poor deer with three legs is going anywhere in the near future anyway. At least not very quickly.

I’ve read these articles about folks who are using their vacation time to go try out a new career and they sound like it makes them happy, happy, happy. Not that I get it, mind you, but there is apparently something to it to it in an entitled yuppie sort of way. You go play Chef for a week. Try out being a Park Ranger. Or wash cats. Whatever floats your boat. Apparently, the sky is the limit. Fun, fun, fun.

So I decided that denying the kids this right would be tragic. After all, we all know just how competitive today’s economy is. And, of course, they will have me and their father to support so there is no time like the present. So it was off to work.

I made sure they were well fortified for the day ahead and made sure to get them the breakfast of champions at the local gas station. Mia liked the corn dogs and Aidan liked the drink I got him in the little free-sample cup. After all, wouldn’t want to actually buy him the barrel-o-coke. That was for me. Robert passed on the six-pack of beer which I thought was probably ill advised. Just a glutton for punishment, I guess.

Took them to a kid’s museum where I had Mia try out shoe sales. She got the hang of it and demonstrated her product all around. Only problem was that she wouldn’t hand the shoes over to the customer. Her love of shoes just shined too bright and caused some work place conflicts.

So, we moved on to putting her to work in the general store where we had sent Aidan. Put him on cashier duties after we had him unload the truck. Assigned Mia to stock girl. Both seemed to greatly enjoy their duties although Mia did seem to have a bit of an attitude about her brother being the boss which she eloquently expressed by throwing a tomato at him, one at me and then one at a former shoe customer. Fortunately, she does throw like a girl. Then, it was on to fishing and heavy equipment operations........

And Save us from Polar Bears

Educating the little ones about the environment is a big part of fulfilling my responsibility as a certifiable "green" mom. Certified as what I'm not sure, but as it is part of my mom duties, I've been fulfilling it with gusto, most recently at 10:30 pm when the son asks some question about polar bears that I didn't quite hear. But as a top notch mom, I didn't need to actually hear it to know what the question was. My heart fills with joy as it dawns on me that he has again made the mistake of giving me the perfect lead for my informative discussion on all things socially responsible.

So, its off to the races as I regale him with all the fine details and facts he needs to consider when formulating an accurate answer to the polar bear question. Including, but not limited to, the melting glaciers in Peru, the polar ice caps, why polar bears don't eat penguins but do like to eat, eat and eat, the Amazon rain forests and all the wild animals of the world. I show him the whole world in my hands. And on and on. I do such a fabulous job that he actually suggests I stop talking so he can go to sleep. I know that is a clear sign that he thinks I have described the facts so perfectly and so clearly, no further erudition is necessary. As I give him a good night bear hug, he mentions something like he still doesn't get why the polar bears' mom lets them drink soda whereas his mother doesn't and where in the world is the justice in that.

Next day, it's church where we do our weekly lighting of a candle for any special intentions. The son carefully considers what he has learned over the past week and what his concerns are and then asks "Dear God, please do not let the polar bears eat us this week." Pretty sure we got a "yes" on that one. Four days into the week and we are all still good.

Next time, probably shouldn't cap my earth day talk off by telling him, as I left the room, that I had just heard that Coca Cola cut those disobedient bears off when they found out they didn't have their mom's permission to drink the brew and the bears were now a tad bit hungry and cranky as a result of coming off the stuff, especially since they had been out of penguins at the north pole for a while which is why they had turned to a high fructose caffeinated beverage in the first place and were now in time out for their crankiness, each on their own ice floe, floating around.