I am in Pennsylvania, I'm alive, and I have internet access. I'll be updating the blog much more frequently. So much has happened since our family left MA. I vowed to keep notes so that I wouldn't forget the tiny details that would communicate the humor, sadness, and struggles we've had experienced since then, but of course life got in the way, time was far too scarce, and things will be forgotten.
I cried after we said goodbye to Jen and Marley and on the 495 on-ramp, but the trek down actually went quite well. Much better than I had ever dreamed. It was just over 9 hours, with 2 stops. The first stop, at a McDonald's in southern Connecticut clocked in at well over an hour long. The place was a mob scene, basically taken over by a group that I could only imagine was some sort of "Mother's Club" bullshit or something like that. For mothers, they were pretty rude and oblivious to our situation. Sitting there, all sprawled out AFTER they were finished eating while we're huddled around our tiny pedestal table meant for one or two with our 2 high chairs, 3 kids and 3 Happy Meals. All the while within earshot of these bitches complaining about how long they were in labor for. Seriously, I don't think I saw a kid under 4 there. Can you get over it already? At any rate, we were able to let our kids exhaust themselves at the germ infested play area before we continued on our journey.
It wasn't until after our second stop (Toys R Us on the NJ/PA border where, of course, Ben pooped his pants) about an hour from our destination when the shit hit the fan. Lots of tears, complaints, the whole cornucopia of bratty behavior. Everyone was tired, sick of being in the car, and I for one nearly had a panic attack. So, Brett, being the more calm one of us at that point let me drive for the remainder of the trip while he played "Smell My Feet". It's really incredible how funny kids think kicking you in the face while you dry heave is.
We finally got to our house, a 1950's era Cape set at the top of a huge hill. The house is nothing special, but the views of the farms and farmland are beautiful. However, Brett and I did realize pretty soon after arriving that we were going to need to do some pretty heavy duty cleaning. You can typically gague the level of a house's cleanliness based on what your socks look like after walking around for a while. Suffice to say, no amount of bleach will ever get those socks white again. We immediately set to work unpacking and cleaning the house Friday night and Saturday morning. Brett definitely did the lion's share of the cleaning. I am by no means a princess,but it's been over 7 years since we have lived without a cleaning lady. I feel like I don't even know how to clean anymore. While Brett was scrubbing away in the bathroom, Will found something very special in the tub, and even wrote a song about it, "A curly hair, a curly hair, I found a curly hair". I almost vomited and peed my pants laughing simultaneously. Cleaning your house is sucky work, cleaning someone else's dirty house is simply disgusting. But you know what? Our socks are now clean when we walk around.
I cried after we said goodbye to Jen and Marley and on the 495 on-ramp, but the trek down actually went quite well. Much better than I had ever dreamed. It was just over 9 hours, with 2 stops. The first stop, at a McDonald's in southern Connecticut clocked in at well over an hour long. The place was a mob scene, basically taken over by a group that I could only imagine was some sort of "Mother's Club" bullshit or something like that. For mothers, they were pretty rude and oblivious to our situation. Sitting there, all sprawled out AFTER they were finished eating while we're huddled around our tiny pedestal table meant for one or two with our 2 high chairs, 3 kids and 3 Happy Meals. All the while within earshot of these bitches complaining about how long they were in labor for. Seriously, I don't think I saw a kid under 4 there. Can you get over it already? At any rate, we were able to let our kids exhaust themselves at the germ infested play area before we continued on our journey.
It wasn't until after our second stop (Toys R Us on the NJ/PA border where, of course, Ben pooped his pants) about an hour from our destination when the shit hit the fan. Lots of tears, complaints, the whole cornucopia of bratty behavior. Everyone was tired, sick of being in the car, and I for one nearly had a panic attack. So, Brett, being the more calm one of us at that point let me drive for the remainder of the trip while he played "Smell My Feet". It's really incredible how funny kids think kicking you in the face while you dry heave is.
We finally got to our house, a 1950's era Cape set at the top of a huge hill. The house is nothing special, but the views of the farms and farmland are beautiful. However, Brett and I did realize pretty soon after arriving that we were going to need to do some pretty heavy duty cleaning. You can typically gague the level of a house's cleanliness based on what your socks look like after walking around for a while. Suffice to say, no amount of bleach will ever get those socks white again. We immediately set to work unpacking and cleaning the house Friday night and Saturday morning. Brett definitely did the lion's share of the cleaning. I am by no means a princess,but it's been over 7 years since we have lived without a cleaning lady. I feel like I don't even know how to clean anymore. While Brett was scrubbing away in the bathroom, Will found something very special in the tub, and even wrote a song about it, "A curly hair, a curly hair, I found a curly hair". I almost vomited and peed my pants laughing simultaneously. Cleaning your house is sucky work, cleaning someone else's dirty house is simply disgusting. But you know what? Our socks are now clean when we walk around.
1 comment:
I am so screwed! Dirty socks abound on Electric Railway...oops! Miss you guys! Love, Jill
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