We made it back safely from our trip with minimal problems. The kids seem to be old enough now where they really get the point of the “road trip” and sit back in their seats and relax. We stopped halfway through at a Carl’s Jr. for a little food to carry us through to home and I definitely felt like we were a bunch of hillbillies, but luckily we fit in with the crowd that had amassed at this nowhere town USA fast food joint. The little kids were still wearing their white onesies from bedtime the previous night, except they were filthy with the plethora of snacks they had eaten the first 4 hours of the trip. There hair was a disaster and two of the three had pretty full diapers. The only reason Ava looked descent was because she can dress herself, and she did so before we left. Her hair was a rat’s nest though, which just added to our white trash family appearance. We really topped it off at the end when I walked them outside and in the little area between the outside and the inside where a line had formed to order food, all the kids (who were now covered head to toe in ketchup) had made a sport of running from one glass wall to the next, ricocheting off of it like a cartoon character and laughing hysterically. I quickly moved my party of dirty gremlins to the sweltering out-of-doors and coerced them into the car.
All said and done, a successful trip to the South of California. I would like the hereby thank my wonderful nieces Briana and Sophia – the best, most patient and loving cousins and role models to my kids. I would also like to thank the domestics who helped out tons (it isn’t easy having the Woolsey 6 invade your home for a week) and enabled us to go have a fun-filled day at Disneyland.
In other news, lets talk balls. The big, round bouncy kind (that’s what she said, The Office). The kind that my kids spot in the big metal cage and insist on having. Yes, I caved in Target and allowed my kids to each hold a big bouncy ball half their size as we cruised the aisles. These balls caused me many a problem at Target that day. First of all, Preston and Violet used them as weapons against each other as they sat in their seats in the cart. Then there was the fun game of throw the ball and watch mommy run like a fool all around the store getting it for them game. At one point, even with their very close proximity, they weren’t allowing each other to touch their balls that they had so quickly laid claim to and formed a close bond with. I had finally made it through Target and to the car with all my loot piled up in my shopping cart, two spry red heads in the passenger seats clutching huge balls. Then Violet decided to throw her ball out into the parking lot as far as she could, at which point a very kind teenager ran to retrieve it and hand it off to me when I noticed the ball had rolled in a big wad of gum. “Oh JESUS!” I screamed in disgust at the ball and resentment toward my daughter for this last unkind act. The teenager, alarmed at my over-reaction to the gum smeared across this sacred ball, offered to run into Target to wipe my ball off for me. What kind of teenager is this, I was thinking. She was a teenager from another planet far far away. I collected myself and told her I will utilize my stash of anti-bacterial wet wipes in the car to fix the situation. And I did.
The good news is that the balls were a HUGE hit in our house. While making dinner that night I heard belly laughter in the playroom from Preston and Violet (Chris had the other two running errands somewhere else). I grabbed my video camera in case I would see something precious. The two little people were rolling themselves over the ball and flying onto the ground. What was causing the true belly laugh was when the one flying off the ball hit the other kid on the way down. It was dangerous and full of potential for injury, but I stood with my video camera and taped because it was too cute to stop. In the end, the problems the balls had caused me in Target that day were worth it. The next day I was back buying a ball for Elsa and Ava. Everybody needed their own big ball.
I will put our slideshow of the trip up next time when I’m not so tired.
Until next time, the mothership is signing off.
Woolsey Family Chronicles 