An 8 hour car trip sounds like a long time, especially when it's 8 hours by yourself.
But I am a firm believer that this does not apply to the stay at home parent. To me, 8 hours alone in the car is just one step removed from a spa, complete with a mud facial and something with hot stones. I don't know what because I have never been to a spa but I have heard that they do something with hot stones. Sounds very hippie, therefore I like it.
Won't you get lonely? 8 hours is a long time, who are you going to talk to?
I am not going to talk to anyone. Do you know what it is like for someone who is constantly asked questions about why we can't watch anymore Nemo? I am almost to the point of telling my kids that Nemo didn't escape the fisherman's net and we had him for dinner last night. I am one tantrum away from throwing in Old yeller and letting them watch every gory detail. And then when they ask me why the poor old puppy had to take one in the head I'll say because he didn't listen to dad.
So it's probably a good idea that I get this 8 hour break from the chaos and anarchy that rules my home. This is my fantasy football draft weekend, or as I like to call it: Christmas in September.
Each year I drive 8 hours each way to attend my fake draft to get my fake team in my fake league. It's quite a production that I have done for 17 years now and this year I'm looking more forward to it than normal.
So it's 8 hours in the car without anyone jumping on my crotch or trying to pull my pants down. Don't get me wrong, I think that pantsing someone is as funny as the next guy. However getting pantsed in the middle of the pl aground is not helping the pedophile image that stay at home dads are trying to kick. How do you explain to a bunch of moms that your child pulled down your pants while your little pecker is playing peek a bo with a bunch of kids. You might get to "I'm sorry, it's my kids" before you are handcuffed by your neighborhood peace officer.
8 hours in the care of listening to my music at maximum ear splitting levels. 8 hours of saying "Fuck" or "Shit" instead of "fudge" and "ship in the ocean." This usually sounds like "That stupid fudge is about to get the ship in the ocean kicked out of him if he cuts me off one more fudging time."
2 hours into the trip and I pass by a sign that says Bushwhacker Museum--next right. An hour passed that one I see another billboard that screams EXTREME CAVES, EXIT NOW! Another hour away and I enter the town of Carhridge. I know this town but I can' immediately figure out why. Then it hits me. There was a big civil war battle here. and that means a big battlefield, some cannon balls lodged in trees and a rusty surgeon's saw somewhere.
You know who would dig this? My kids.
And there you go. I am now thinking about how my 2 minions would love something called a Bushwhacker Museum although I'm not even sure what that might entail. But anything that involves whacking is something that they would love.
And extreme caving, well that's right in our wheelhouse. It's immediately more appealing when I imagine them trying to cause a rock slide or a cave in. And they would do it without pants on because right now they are on a very anti-pants kick which explains what they have been trying to do to me.
But the battlefield, that's just our style and I have found one 3 hours away that we haven't seen yet.
4 hours into my car trip and I already miss my kids. That's jacked up. So for the rest of the trip I'll be singing all 4 stanzas of Clementine (yes, there are 4) and answering random questions by myself like why it stopped raining or where did the cows go.
I should be wondering if Tony Romo's breakup with Jessica Simpson will improve his performance, not if Hossmom would consider grabbing the little ones and meeting me at a hiking trail near the Ozarks. But I'm not. Tony has taken a back seat to this:
"Oh how I missed her, how I missed her, How I missed my Clementine. Until I kissed her little sister and forgot my Clementine." Scandalous, isn't it?