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We ARE the Griswolds

Now that I’m finally feeling as if I’ve had a good night’s sleep – that is, one spent in a bed by myself, with minimal interruptions, and a reasonable bedtime and wake-up time – I’m ready to tackle the insanity that has characterized this trip so far.

Even though Kyle’s the one with a degree in Logistics Management, I’m the logistician in our family. You can take the girl out of project management, but you can’t take the project manager out of the girl.

Before the trip, I made checklists. I even checked items off the checklists. I downloaded directions for every move we’d make, and printed them out. I researched hotels and rest stops and gas stops. I set out clothing for all five family members and packed very carefully – carry-on items for the flights to and from Dayton, big suitcases for the drives to San Francisco and Portland, and appropriately-sized toiletries for each. I pared down my selection of shoes to only six pairs. And ever ambitious in my triathlon training, I packed workout clothes, a swimsuit, and goggles.

Ha. Ha ha ha ha ha.

On the upside, our flights were uneventful. CJ flailed and whined and had to poop in the airplane lavatory, but to her credit, she actually WALKS on the moving walkway in the airport (unlike far too many adults who just lean against the railing and riiiiide).

The weekend in Dayton was wonderful. We had the entire upstairs to ourselves at my aunt’s house (formerly my grandparents’ house), and Herman Anne had decorated it beautifully – complete with strings of white lights around the windows, a Pack-n-Play for Oliver, and a TV in the girls’ bedroom. We saw family and friends whom we hadn’t seen in years, and we ate tons of Marion’s Pizza (yes, my favorite pizza in the world – second only to Kyle’s – comes from Dayton, Ohio).

The trouble started shortly after we got on the road in Denver.

When Kyle had filled the rooftop car carrier with our luggage – back at home, before we even headed to the airport – he discovered that the lock had broken. He closed the top, left it unlocked, and didn’t tell me. He figured the latch would hold just fine.

And it did, until we were on Rt 287 in Wyoming, just south of Laramie, where the cross winds got to be too much for the unsecured latch – and the top of the carrier blew right off, spewing luggage and jumper cables and Kyle’s racquetball racquet across the highway.

We pulled over, gathered our stuff, shoved it ALL inside the car – Tacy and CJ had suitcases on their laps – and carefully made our way up the highway to a ramshackle general store that was straight out of an old western. They gave us some twine, and Kyle re-packed the carrier and tied it down as best he could. Then we drove even more carefully to Laramie and located the nearest hardware store, where Kyle bought up every last bungee cable they had.

After gassing up at the Kum and Go, we got back on the road. And other than CJ’s penchant for unlatching her car door (at least five times) and the twenty-minute tandem meltdowns of Tacy and Oliver (while CJ remained uncharacteristically placid), the rest of that day’s trip was quiet. We made it to Salt Lake City in time for Kyle and the girls go swimming while I put Oliver to bed and sipped a well-deserved glass of wine.

The next day went surprisingly well for quite a while too. CJ opened her door a few more times, and the girls fought over the borrowed DVD player, and I even took over driving once we hit the Nevada state line.

And then we hit a bump.

Literally, there was a sign that said BUMP, so I took it down from 80mph to just under 70mph, but it wasn’t enough. Two of the bungee cords snapped, the top flew off, and another suitcase was airborne.

So again, we pulled over, gathered our stuff, and got out the spare bungee cords to re-secure the carrier lid. Both girls peed by the side of the highway while I nursed Oliver, and Kyle got everything back in place.

We made it to San Francisco without any further catastrophes. We even managed to find street parking in the Haight and didn’t get any tickets. But when Kyle retrieved the car on Thursday morning to pack it up for his trip up the coast with the girls, he discovered it had a flat tire.

Oliver and I are flying to Portland tomorrow morning to meet back up with Kyle and the girls, and we’ll be heading home a couple days later. I’m guessing that CJ will open her door a few more times, and I’m certain that the fighting over the DVD player will continue, but I’m desperately hoping that our bad car karma has run out and that the tires and the car carrier will hold up on the way back.

Oh, and that Kyle will agree to my suggestion that we take three days (instead of two) to drive home.

Published by mothergoosemouse on July 19th, 2008 tagged Bwahahaha!, Look at me, look at me!, Miss Goosie, Miss Mousie, Olliepop, The king of beers, Who me?