When my husband travels, he is the epitome of Type-A. There is always a well-thought out schedule and anything that deviates is a PROBLEM. However, since we now have a baby, I think Mike has to get used to the fact that there's somebody who could care less if we stick to the plan. Mike begs to differ— he says the plan becomes that much more important. This past weekend's road trip to DC was the perfect case study.
THE PLAN: Mike wants us out the door at 1:30pm. This is not an arbitrary thing. This is because we will miss any sort of lunchtime or rush hour traffic getting out of the city, because the baby naps at around 2pm, and because it will get us into DC at around 6:30pm which will be just in time for dinner. As I said, Mike thinks these things through. Note— Mike really wants to leave at 2pm. He always tells me a half hour earlier because, well, he knows me.
THE EXECUTION: We are dressed, packed and ready to go at 1:30pm when Mike brings the car around. Then Mike asks if I packed something for myself to eat for lunch. Nope. I need a sandwich and go to the deli across the street. There is a line. This means we don't leave till 2pm. He is always right. It is infuriating.
THE TRIP BROKEN DOWN IN MIKE FASHION:
1:30pm: We're ready
1:35: Sandwich detour debacle
2:00: Actual departure
2:20: My suspicion that the baby hates tunnels is confirmed by our less than pleasant ride thru the Holland Tunnel
2:25: Baby goes down for nap upon entry into New Jersey (the girl is a true New Yorker)
2:30: I fall asleep (my signature travel style)
3:07: Baby wakes up
3:07:01: I wake in a panic, quickly reach around to readminster pacifier and adjust blankie
3:12: Baby back down
3:18: I wolf down sandwich from aforementioned deli debacle
3:30: I fall back asleep
4:30: I wake up, realize the baby is still sleeping and foolishly utter the words, "How long has the baby been sleeping?"
4:30:05: Baby wakes up, begins to cry
4:32: I make switch to backseat which involves removal of coat, rearrangment of numerous bags, and a squashed banana
4:33-5:00: Feed baby (food and bottle is prepped and ready thank god because the baby freaks as soon as she sees them)
5:00: Commence Project: DISTRACT THE BABY WITH SONG, which is made more difficult by the baby's second…
5:05: Tunnel Freak Out
5:10: Make several attempts to stop the baby from crying but cannot seem to shake the impact of the Tunnel Freak Out. Especially since I can't pick her up. Ask husband to pull-over to change diaper.
5:10:01: Husband informs me that we are stuck in traffic and it might be a while before we can pull over.
5:10:20: Where is Thumbkin? Where is Thumbkin? Here I am! Here I am!
5:12: The Itsy Bitsy Spider went up the water spout…
5:15: Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb…
5:18: The more we get together together together, The more we (OH NO)
5:20: Are we close to a rest stop yet? (ME) Can't you see we are not moving? (HIM)
5:21: Ten little monkeys jumping on the bed…
5:25: A-B-C-D-E-F-G…
5:27-5:40: If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands… (I have a really long version which involves snapping, nose touching, belly rubbing, knee slapping— it's really very impressive)
5:40: If you're happy and you know it pull your ear— The traffic is moving again, do you still need to stop? (That's from my husband). I look at the baby, she seems ok. I think we're good— POWER THROUGH.
5:41-6:30: POWERING THROUGH
6:30: Arrival at destination.
Exactly as Mike planned. Which is great. And also— infuriating.
Editor's Note: If only the ride home went as smoothly.
I love this post!
Of course you do.
I would have also chosen to “power through!” 🙂
Car rides are rough. We did an 8 hour each way trip a few times during our oldest’s first year of life, and that third time coming home solidified that we’d never do it again.
At least if the baby cries in the car it is just for your and your husband to hear… try to picture that in a 7 hours flight with everybody giving you the ‘look of love’…priceless
Good thing is when you’re flying with baby it almost always garantees you an empty seat next to you as everybody would rather take the middle seat in the middle row than next to the apple of your eyes. Go figure.
See, I’m your husband in this case. I mean, not REALLY, because he’s your husband and I’m not, but…anyway. I like to have the departure time planned, the rest stops mapped out, etc. My husband prefers to roll out of bed, blink three times to make the suitcases pack themselves, and then tell me to “Reeeeelaaaax, Kate” if Aura gets antsy.
I then take offense and begin to argue. Having a roaring fight really does pass the time, though. Threats of divorce? Very time-consuming.
Glad you survived. If it’s any consolation, I found road trips became much, much easier after age two. Front-facing and all…
Yeah- it’s not happening again for a very long time. I will be detailing my return trip tomorrow…
The only thing I think is better about the plane is that you can hold them if they get upset. In the car, they don’t get why you just won’t pick them up.
I cannot WAIT for front-facing.
I avoid the divorce threats by being cute and acting dumb. And using the baby as leverage if necessary.
bless you for attempting the dreaded at least in my book!) road trip. we do them so infrequently well, because of all of that that you wrote! so much stress, so much to undo, redo and clean up from the day before. i think i’m getting stressed just thinking about it! 🙂 great post and so glad things went exactly as planned! 🙂
My husband gets car sick so he drives and I try throwing myself out the moving car every time someone asks me to turn around and look at their toy…or retrieve said toy off the floor. OH.MY.GOD.KILL.ME.NOW
Love your playlist!! I bet you’re hoarse from all that singing/pleading.
My facebook status in August read: “how to describe this ninth hour in the car with an hour more ahead? it feels like there is a crazed monkey, dressed up like a manic clown, trying to brush my hair with razor blades.” This summer was filled with such horrible car rides, we were scarred. Hence, turning to Amtrak two weeks ago to go to DC. It’s not ideal, but at least you don’t have to stop a million times to feed the baby. Still, no Amtrak for us on Thanksgiving and Christmas…it’s the car again and I’m scared.
Nine hours! It’s like inviting yourself into hell. On a related note- Mazzy scratched the crap out of my face today so I can relate to the razor blades as well. Seriously- are baby fingertips actually really tiny swiss army knives?
Glad to know it just gets more fun as the kids get older.
Our car looked like the floor of a Chucky Cheese when we were done with it. I DO NOT look forward to a repeat performance.
Oh dear, so this is what you were up to after shopping? I had a fancypants lunch at the Market Table that disagreed with me for the next 3 DAYS. Don’t eat there.
The rest of the trip was awesome (if you don’t count the constant desire to throw up. Never mention Fontina cheese to me.) I am now the proud owner of pearl earrings, a diamond ring, and a deed to a very good man (to be paid in December.) I call that success!
Oh, and having met you, I’m gonna have to go back and alter my poll vote. Mazzy looks JUST LIKE YOU.
So sorry you had a bad meal! But so happy you still ended up with a diamond ring— Congratulations!
And in regards to “Mazzy looks JUST LIKE YOU”— you have now just sealed the deal as my best blogging buddy. Great to have met you!
Well she does! 😀
[…] and I drove down to DC once when Mazzy was about 9 months. That was a harrowing experience, where Mike’s only job was to drive the car while I played waitress, lady servant, one woman […]
[…] is fearless. The only time I’ve ever seen Mazzy scared is when we go through long tunnels in the car. Which is kind of understandable considering she’s doing it backwards at 55mph. Otherwise, […]