Suburban Warrior

I know...I know...I'm a pathetic blogger.

Anyhoo...we've been busy this summer...We have done our annual trips to Emerald Isle, NC, Ocean City, MD and Rehoboth Beach, DE. I'm exhausted from simply packing the darn minivan for those trips...I had forgotten how much baby crappola is necessary when travelling. Portable cribs, portable swings, portable bouncy seats, portable highchairs, portable playmats, etc. Well, you know what I discovered about myself? I ain't that "portable" at forty years old! God, just let me stay home! And you know what else? Once you have children and you let them come with you on vacation...there really is no vacation.

HOWEVER, the MOST stressful part of the trip is merely surviving the car ride down there. No the girls are well behaved, it's the husband thinking he's a NASCAR driver on Interstate 95. There is probably no reason to go in depth about his weaving, not letting people merge, speeding, and overall lack of patience with all other drivers, etc. because it seems (through consultation with my sisters-in-law) that this is a common practice among males. Even my senior citizen, Buick LeSabre driving father is guilty of this behavior(speaking of Buick LeSabres, I challenge anyone to spot someone under the age of seventy driving a LeSabre! It can't be done! I've been looking for years...). I've learned to simply grit my teeth, say Hail Marys, and hope for the best. When I can't control myself and point out his aggressive driving, he usually responds with his patented answer, "Well, it would have been his/her fault".

Yeah...ok...remind me of that when I'm being fed through a tube!!. Fool.