Monday, July 01, 2019

Travel notes: Day 3

Well, we did it! I didn't think it could be done, but we did it! We pulled into Atlanta around 11:00 last night after a very long day of driving.

I tried so hard to include interesting stops on this trip, to break of the drive and make some memories, but unfortunately things didn't work out as planned and the trip ended up being rather boring despite my best efforts. We missed the Oz museum on Saturday and then as we were going through St. Louis we got a notification that the roads leading to the arch were closed due to the river flooding (floods have been rather terrible and widespread in that part of the country this year), so we missed that as well. And then because we decided to just power on through the rest of the way to Georgia we drove through Chattanooga (where we were going to stop to see some Civil War things) just as the sun was setting (and the parks were closed). So we really struck out.

But now we know that Chattanooga looks like a very pretty area and that it's less than two hours from our house so we can plan a day trip there sometime, to enjoy the fall colours of the Appalachians, perhaps.

Here are a few stories from our day yesterday:

In the morning before leaving the hotel in Concordia, Rachel was following me around whining while I was trying to get ready to go. She had a bit of a short fuse and after she snipped at Miriam (again), I asked her to cool her jets.

"It's just that she cries about everything!" Rachel...cried.

"Which is exactly what you're doing now!" I pointed out.

"I'm not crying! I'm just whining!" Rachel argued.

"Which is the same thing as crying...only drier!" I said.

Rachel collapsed onto the bed and moaned, "MOOOOOOM!"

Because there's nothing like a good mom joke when you're in the middle of an adolescent rage.


I spent a lot of time reaching for things yesterday. Toys, snacks, dropped items, and so forth. I felt like I was constantly reaching. After reaching so far to pick up a toy that Zoë had dropped, she asked how I as able to do that when she couldn't.

"Mommy's just so tall!" Andrew told her, which set Zoë off on a stream of questions.

"How did you grow so fast? And how did Mommy grow so fast? And why am I just growing so slow? Because I’m four and you’re four and she’s four, but you two are big and I’m still small!"

We have explained—many times—that we have 30 years on her but she remains convinced that we’re all of us plain ol’ four years old. This may also explain why she figures she’s pretty much as in charge of things as anybody around here.


In Nashville, I opened up the changing table in the restroom and put Alexander down on it without really checking out our environment. He was ridiculously poopy and I wanted to change him quick. But he would not stop squirming.

"Ummm...Mommy?" he said. "Mommy! No! No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!"

He pointed to the hand dryer that was located right above his head. I hadn't even noticed it! But he's terrified of them, so of course he noticed. So I helped him swivel around so that his head was on the far end of the changing table, which he felt better—but still nervous—about.

It was lucky that I took him in to change him in the women's side because Andrew said the men's side had a changing table flanked by hand dryers. Alexander really would have been in a pickle then!


We were treated to another beautiful sunset in Chattanooga and my kids were missing it because they were too busy whining about stuff, so I said, "Look at the river and the sunset! It's so pretty!"

"Why is it so pretty?" Zoë snipped.

"Because I said so," I said back, a little snootily.

"No! Tell me the truth!" she screamed. "'I said so' isn't a truth!"

"I don't know what you want me to tell you," I said. "It's pretty because I like it. That's the reason."

"That doesn't sound like the truth!" she huffed.

"Well, it is," I assured her.

"Mommy, you need to always tell the truth," she said.

And we left the conversation at that. Because, that's true! We should always tell the truth!

Boy, were we ever glad to pull into the parking lot of our hotel (or is it a motel?) so we could put our grumpy children to bed. Alexander fell asleep, but Zoë was doing everything she could think of to stay awake. She was gurgling water, making weird noises with her mouth, singing songs, slapping her legs, and generally making a ruckus in the back seat (while Benjamin just sat glued to his screen).

She was often very sweet to Alexander, though, singing him made up songs to help soothe him, and reassuring him that he had no need to cry. At one point she decided he might stop crying if only he understood why we had to move, so she explained our motivations to him.

"Alex, don’t cry. We are moving but you can make new baby friends," she told him.

"I don’t think that’s why he’s crying..." Andrew said.

"Okay, Alex. Let me explain," Zoë said. "We have to move because our old house got too old and so we HAD to move so we could get a new house. So stop crying!"

When I explained to her that our new house is older than our old house, her head just about exploded (because how illogical is that?! Moving to an old-new house, indeed!).

1 comment:

  1. Ha! So many memories! Are you in your old-new house yet? :)