Today was absolutely incredible!  We were contaminated until about one so I used the morning to catch up on laundry while the kids vegged out on Papa’s Disney movies.  An entire month without television and after the first movie, three of the four were done.  Bek and Nate went back to the toy tub while Drew tackled a puzzle. 

I felt like Cinderella waiting for the clock to strike twelve.  The appointed time finally came making us officially “clean” and ready to visit.  Grandma Toni called and invited us to my favorite burger joint of all time.  Moving across the country was difficult in a number of ways but I was surprised how much I missed our regular eating establishments.  It has become a fun tradition to squeeze as many of them into our California visits, without upsetting little tummies and budgets!

As I sat in five lanes of traffic going nowhere fast, I had time to reflect.  During introductions, the first question always is why we moved from California to West Virginia.  The next is usually when we are going back.  In Chad’s mind, we aren’t ever returning.  California is too crowded, too busy, too expensive.  I always have to hesitate on that last question.  There are lots of things I really miss about California.  Even as Drew was intimidated by all the cars, “I’m glad you seem to know where we are going, Mommy, because I don’t think I would want to be your navigator here!” I was feeling quite comfortable with the familiar. As we sat there I began mulling the thought of returning to California.

A friend once said that it takes three years to really settle into a new area.  At the time, I thought that was a really long time but since we just celebrated our 3^rd anniversary as East Coast citizens I think her assessment isn’t far from the mark.  During last year’s visit, I would have given anything to move back “home”.  Even with all the craziness and stress of the trip itself, I felt like I left a piece of my heart back in California when it was time to fly back to Chad.  This year is different.  When we loaded up the car to start the trip, I felt like I was leaving a piece of my heart there.  We have made lifelong friends, found our niche at an incredible church, and have finally found our rhythm.  This year, I am calling friends back home to hear about first days of school, baby check ups, and lama farms.  As much as I would love to be back near family, I think I have finally come to the place where I would choose to remain where God has put me.  I would have to agree with Drew though.  It would be really cool if He dropped a summer beach house into our future!

We finally arrived at our off ramp and the car wasn’t off before the kids were scrambling over each other to get out.  I laughed outloud at the noisy parking lot reunion.  Scotty's is just a hole in the wall place whose lunch rush caters to blue collar workers and we were about to upset the balance.  After a very loud parking lot reunion, we moved inside and took up two of their eight booths.  It was delightful to watch the kids argue over rights on sitting next to my sister.  Grandma and Papa got caught up on Nate’s signs while Drew attempted to cram the details of our entire trip between mouthfuls of grilled cheese.  It was wonderful to be sitting smushed together with family.

After lunch we returned to Grandma Toni’s house for a short visit.  They had just returned from vacation so we got to look over photos, see Holly’s new teenage room, and visit while the kids jumped on the trampoline.  There is something magical about a grandparent’s house that keeps little people entertained.  With an entire new stock of goodies to explore, I got to curl up on the couch and visit without the typical referring.  Time flew and it was time for us to leave.  Holly came with us and we headed back to Huntington Beach to hook up with Papa Chuck.

The kids were beside themselves.  It was finally time for Downtown Disney.  Armed with pin lanyards and spending money, we unloaded in record time.  Our first stop, not surprisingly, was the pin trading station.  The boys were in pin heaven.  Disney employees wearing a lanyard are required to trade with you.  They have to accept any one-to-one offer, even if you offer them your tiniest pin for their largest.  Kaleb loves employee trades.  Drew, on the other hand, likes the challenge of private traders.  His face lit up like a Christmas tree when he spotted a man standing at the tables with a bulging pin bag.  It turned out the gentleman was married to Disney’s pin manager and was not about to be taken for a dummy.  Drew spent most of our hour there drueling over his goods and trying to negotiate himself a deal. 

One of the appeals of Disney characters is everyone can relate to at least one of them.  Everyone in our family has a character that reflects their personality.  Chad is Pooh Bear, I am Tigger, Drew is Buzz Lightyear, and Kaleb is Stitch.  Though the world abounds with little princesses, my little firecracker is definitely a Tinkerbell kind of kid.  The jury is still out on Nate.

All of the kids have pins to trade, including the little ones.  The thinking behind this is that someday, they too will be big, and it is much cheaper to eBay in bulk.  Bekah has the “anything you can do, I can do better” mentality so she is right there with her little pink pin book.  Being the ripe old age of four, she is still learning how it all works.  We have finally grasped that if you want a pin from an employee, you have to give them one first.  It is not a shopping spree!  Now we are in the process of trying to decide what we want to collect.  One minute she will trade for a Tink pin and in the blink of an eye, Tink has been hawked for Eeyore.  This is purely for the enjoyment of the children so they are allowed to trade as they wish, with a few exceptions.  Those “untradables” actually have special locking backs that won’t come off without the key.  Some parent apparently got frustrated with their kid trading a $15 pin for a $4 and got thinking!  An hour later, our group emerged triumphant from the pin booth. 

The next order of business was taking Bek to her girl store.  Last year we discovered the frilliest, pinkest, girliest store on Disneywalk.  An entire store dedicated to floof.  Lots of pink, frilly floof.  I’m not sure who’s reaction is funnier, Kaleb’s repulsion or Bekah’s glee when Libby Lu’s is mentioned.  Bek was promised  a princess makeover and it was time for Mom to make good.  The boys waited outside the contamination area with Papa while Bek transformed into a beautiful princess.  Transform indeed.  The little tiger who had just been chasing her brothers turned into a little lady when asked what color glitter she wanted sprinkled on her nails.  "Pink, darling."  She couldn’t pry her eyes off her reflection in the pink, heart shaped mirror as her hair was twirled and curled.  When asked if she would like to wear her pink bracelet now, my drama princess replied, “I think I simply must.”  20 minutes later, the transformation was complete.  My prissy princess pranced out of the store feeling like a million dollars.  Drew’s reaction when she emerged sums it up best, “What happened to you?!?!”

Our drama princess was estatic to find a bench full of cousins waiting for her.  Chad’s brother and family had met up with us for dinner.  It was the first time in a year that everyone has been together and it was another loud reunion.  Thankfully, Disneywalk is boistrious so we didn’t earn any undo attention as the kids screamed their hellos and chased each other.  The joy was a little onesided.  I had to stiffle my laugh as Bek glided up to her favorite little cousin and batted her eyes.  Being a typical three-year-old little boy, he crinkled his nose at her girliness and walked away.  Not about to be put off, Bek cornered him and was again rejected.  He could care less about her cute curls and glamourous shoes.  In the blink of an eye, the dalring little princess had her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes.  "Listen up, buddy.  I am pretty and you are going to play with me now.  Tag, your it.  Now run."  Bek spent the rest of the evening primping and batting those eyes at anyone who would look in her direction.  The drama princess was definately in her element!

Eureka!  The Johnson Zoo has finally arrived in California.  After driving through the night to get to Southern California, I had anticipated on sleeping in.  What a joke!  The baby had other plans.  At six o’clock, a little person sat up in bed next to me.

“Mama.”  I did what any good mom would do.  I rolled over.  “Mama.  Mama.  Maaaaamaaaaa.”  Since Nate’s ear surgery we have picked up a handful of words but none of them seem to bring him the joy of this one.  “Mama.”  The covers come over my head.  God isn’t even awake yet and my one-year-old wants to play.  “Maaaaaamaaaaaa!”  Why did we want him to talk?  Signing is so wonderfully quiet and easy to ignore.

I didn’t get any further in my morning ponderings because at this point my little Frog Prince decided he didn’t like being ignored.  One minute I was thinking about the joys of signing and the next minute a soggy diaper was sitting on my head.  “Yee-haw!”  Bounce.  Bounce.  Bounce.  As a mom, I have come to accept many of the highlights that come with my position: changing wet sheets, catching regurgitated hot dog in the middle of a restaurant, and even having diaper overflow on my best dress.  There is a reason children don’t come with an instruction manual.  Smart people would eBay the manual, read the fine print, and second think parenthood!  The perptuation of the human race would come to a complete hault and there would be no one left to read my Chronicles.  Someone got smart, deleted the manual file, and now unsuspecting parents get to experience the joys of children.  Bounce, bounce, squish.  There is something inherently repulsive to waking up to a cold, wet diaper sitting on your head.  Sheet or no sheet, it doesn’t matter.  It is icky.  Extra icky! 

After reflexively launching my baby off the bed and then consoling him back from hysterics, I was ready to start my day.  Ready really isn’t the word.  I extracted my exhausted self from my comfortable cocoon and contemplated prying my eyes open.  It was our first day in long awaited California.  We had traveled some 4,000 miles to get here, endured unspeakable hardships, hours of Vegitales sing alongs, but we had finally arrived.  I can totally attest to the sheer joy the pioneers must have felt when their wagon wheel broke from the enth time and their wives finally said they could just stop and build their cabin there.

My original plan, like most my others, didn’t exactly come to fruition.  Everyone we know and love lives in good old California so visiting grandparents, aunties, and cousins was at the top of my to do list.  I’m not sure why I bother planning.  The gods were against us today.  The first order of business was cleaning out the car we had lived in for a month so we could take it to the dealer.  I am sure there is some mathematical equation to determine the amount of Cheetos crumbs four kids can generate over a four week period.  It is a lot.  Probably close to infinity squared.  After rediscovering long lost shoes, reorganizing travel game bags, and raking an unholy amount of “stuff” out of the bottom of my car, we were off to take the ZooMobile to the spa where it could get it’s wheels polished and it’s engine massaged and hopefully return home to me with all cylinders working. 

There is something to be said about stereotypes. While they are certainly not applicable to everyone in a category, time has taught me that they usually originate somewhere.  Being a proud West Virginian, I can laugh right along with the red neck jokes because I know a few people who give them truth.  Like wise, the service dealer we dealt with gave power to the beach stereotype.  Pretty and clueless.  I hope she finds a rich husband soon who can support them so she can get out of the service writing industry quickly.  “It’s doing what? The spark plug is arcing?  I think that might be bad.”  You think.  I’m not coming here to drop a small fortune into your itty bitty suntanned lap because I thought that clunking sound was the sign of a healthy, happy engine!!!!

Have I mentioned that I get a little sarcastic when I am exhausted and starving?  Papa Chuck graciously took us out to brunch.  Instead of feeling better, I began to feel worse.  I had apparently ordered cactus fries.  The effort of swallowing them brought tears to my eyes and my delicious looking burger was simply inedible.  Bekah, who had spent the last two weeks begging for Mac ‘N Cheese, now sat there pushing it around her plate.  The baby eats anything he can fit into his mouth and his appetite certainly wasn’t affected this morning but you couldn’t see his bright and shining face for all the boogers.  As the waitress carried away my untouched plate I decided our beach play date was going to have to wait until after a quick trip to the doctors.

Did I say quick?  I meant slow.  Agonizingly S-L-O-W.  Nothing like sitting in the E.R. for 3½ hours with sick kids when you could be chasing waves at the beach your first day in California. It wasn’t just that I had to sit there.  I had to keep them sitting there while I filled out five separate telephone books worth of confidential health history.  We all live at the same house with the same phone number.  The kids have all the same contact info.  Could we not use the pretty little copier in the back to save the sick mom an hour of busy work?  Nope.  Everyone got to have their own piece of paper with a million questions all hand filled out by yours truely.  Does it really matter that I stubbed my toe when I was five or that my great-great-great grandfather twice removed and then glued back on again lost a nail?  Fix my throat so we can go to the beach!

When someone finally felt the whim to take us back into the mysterious beyond, I was informed that we couldn’t all be in the same room.  My family is currently composed of one mommy and four kids.  Hmmmm, let’s think about this for a minute.  I asked the nurse who she would like me to leave unsupervised, the babies or the bash brothers.  Remarkably, an exception was made to their policy and a room was found that fit all of us.  It didn’t long for the nurse to get her revenge.  Since we were all being seen, she checked all of our vitals.  Then, we all got to step out into the world’s most populated hall and step on the scale.  Drew jumped right on and proudly announced that he weighed 69 pounds.  Kaleb pushed him aside and determined that he weighed 68.8 pounds which was just as good as Drew.  In fact, it was even better because he is two years younger and just think how much Moose would weigh when he was eight.  While they were arguing over this detail, Bek stepped up.  She was officially a big girl now weighing in at 32 pounds.  She had finally broken the 30 pound mark, an important stepping stone in the Johnson Zoo, so we all did the happy dance with her in the hall.  Now that we had the attention of everyone in the building, Nate jumped on.  There must be a trick to keeping a baby still on the scale but we didn’t know it and neither did the nurse.  I was a bad mom and pulled out a secret lollipop which mysteriously found its way into Nate’s mouth.  I have never put soda into a bottle but I have been guilty of using lollipops to bribe children into compliancy. M&M's are equally effective but I ate all those in the waiting room.  In the moment of his delighted surprise, Nate weighed in at 30.6 pounds which also qualified him as a big kid.  A really big kid.  A second happy dance ensued. 

Now it was my favorite part of a doctor’s visit.  Stick me.  Measure my belly.  Why, oh why, must we always be weighed at the doctors?  There is something about a scale that makes me feel like a piece of meat.  I quickly stepped on.  A large piece of meat.  The numbers flashed and I stepped off.  Not too horribly bad.  I had actually lost a few pounds of vacation!  “Wow, Mom. That is a HUGE number.”  Thanks so much.  “You must be as big as dad!”  Excuse me?  “You weigh a TON!”  You are never getting a Happy Meal again.  “You are a VERY big girl, Mommy!”  If we hadn’t had the entire building’s attention before, we did now.  Most people were nice enough to try to conceal their snicker.  The nurse laughed out loud.  Thanks.  Out of the mouths of babes.  Can we please take Big Bertha and her sick herd back to their room?!?!

Thankfully, the doctor was a wonderful woman who realized that the Johnson destruction crew was waiting in a room filled with very intriguing, very expensive toys.  She came right in and began inspecting us.  Three fevers over a hundred.  Five sets of swollen glands.  Five bright red throats complete with ***** white streaks.  One yaking Moose.  The not-so-tickly throat tickle cinched it.  We had five severe cases of strep throat.  Welcome to California!

Being outrageously contagious for the next 24 hours, we cancelled our beach play date, which we were already late for, and proceeded onto infecting everyone at the pharmacy.  Apparently, it takes a lot of medicine to treat five cases of step.  So much medicine, in fact, that a single pharmacy couldn’t fill our prescriptions.  Neither could the next three places the pharmacist called.  She said she could fill half the prescriptions today and I could come back tomorrow for the other half.  Make me pick which kids start feeling better now, I think not.  What is behind Door #2?  We ended up splitting the prescription between two pharmacies.  Twice the wait, twice the paper work, and twice the people to infect.  When I ran in to pick up our precious drugs, I was disappointed to learn it wasn’t ready.  The doctor had prescribed a brand name medicine that had no generic equivalent, therefore the regular co-pay didn’t apply.  Did I still want the medicine?  Let see…  I am dying.  I can’t see any of my family I just drove 4,000 miles to visit because we are highly contagious.  I just spent four very long hours in the E.R.  You know that I went to two different pharmacies so that I could treat all my children today.  Nah, I don’t want that medicine.  I enjoy feeling like this!!!  It took the wonderful lady forty minutes to mix the medicine and then call it through the insurance.  We got to repeat the entire thing at the second pharmacy.  If you take my cell number when we drop off our prescriptions, why don't you call it if you have a question about whether or not to fill it?  Two long hours later we finally had our drugs. 

Now feeling absolutely horrible and more than a little frustrated, a good dose of ice cream was in order.  Life lesson #56: Cookie dough may fix everything but when the thought of hard chocolate chips isn't pleasant, ice cream makes a close second.  We ordered the biggest sundae they had.  As we sat around inhaling our soft, cold dinner when Bekah determined she liked California.  “Mommy never lets us have ice cream for dinner back home.” 

It might sound funny once we got the drugs in our system, it wasn’t such a bad first day.  The kids were very disappointed about having to cancel our beach play date but they recovered quickly when the doctor said they could swim in Papa’s pool.  She rationalized it would help their fevers and wearing them out would do me some good too!  After our healthy dinner, we spent a couple kickback hours laughing and relaxing by the pool.  The boys got to show off their new swimming skills and Bek was enamored by a pair of pink flippers she found in the pool shed.  Nate was in little boy heaven with all of his cousin’s trucks to play with.  Even poor Rusty got in on the action when he wandered into the middle of a full fledged water gun battle. 

Baths were the last order of business.  My Zoo crew always comes running when they hear bath water so they were very excited to learn that Papa has a Jacuzzi tub.  Bathing suits were quickly shed as little naked people scrambled into the world’s biggest tub.  We discovered a little bubble bath goes a LONG way when jets are involved!  The kids had a blast giving each other bubble beards and crowns.  Somewhere along the line they even got clean.  I admit to being absolutely amazed at the ring of dirt left at the bottom of the tub when everyone finally decided they were waterlogged.  Who would have thought that that much dirt could have been left on them after three hours of pool play?!?! 

We all wound down with our Disney trading pins.  Tomorrow’s trip to Disneyland has been postponed.  It wouldn’t do to make Mickey sick!  Tears were shed until I figured out that our 24-hour cantagious period would be over in more than enough time to do Disney Walk in the evening.  It wasn’t Disney proper but the kids love walking through the stores and dancing along with the live entertainment.  Best of all, there is pin trading.  The kids scampered to get their pin bags and began sorting and trading among themselves.  It was fun to see everyone’s collections again and hear of their pin aspirations.  Disney Walk doesn’t have the same number of pin traders as the theme parks so the kids decided to leave their pin bags at home and take only their lanyard necklaces, which of course had to be loaded with their tradable pins.  Another hour of activity followed and everyone was finally ready to call it a night. 

Of all our traveling adventures, the hardest aspects of the trip to this point has been enduring the mundane.  Nothing like spending two hours in a laundry mat with four kids to make you appreciate the convenience of your washing machine.  Beaking down on the freeway is rough but you know it will pass.  Folding laundry is compounded by the knowledge that you will be doing this again next week.  This is most true when trying to shower with four little rugrats.  I don’t care how big they say their water heater is, by the time four little bodies are scrubbed clean, four heads have been shampooed, and four sets of toes have been rediscovered for all the dirt, there is no hot water left for you.  Shaving becomes a luxury you can’t afford as the baby picks someone else’s hair out of the drain while your daughter plays peek-a-boo with the stranger in the next shower stall.  After all my little people were tucked snug into bed, I snuck out and enjoyed the longest, hottest shower in the world.  I got to shampoo my hair without anyone clamouring for more water.  I got to shave both my legs.  I even got to use a dry towel when I was done.  My shower did wonders for my body, my smell, and my temperment.

It certainly wasn’t the day I had planned but it wasn’t a bad one either.  My car should return from the “spa” ready for an uneventful return trip home.  The kids and I are back on the road to health.  Drew was very impressed that he was able to get his in a pill form which eliminated the normal medicinal drama we enjoy when he gets sick.  Bek got to feast on ice cream for dinner and then we all swam ourselves silly.  After taking the world’s bubbliest bubble bath, we spent the evening snuggled up reminiscing over our trip up to this point and looking forward to adventures yet to come.  Best yet, I got to shave both my legs!  The plans of mice and men!  The beach will be there tomorrow…

The rest of my blogs are currently being held hostage in my laptop, whose charger is in the ZooMobile at the dealer.  I will upload the rest of our adventures and pictures when I get it back, hopefully in the next day or so.  Thanks for reading!

Love,

The Zany Zookeeper

I’ve never seen a good western that doesn’t have a scene of cowboys gathered around a campfire as the sunsets.  A roaring campfire is the perfect end to a perfect day. 

Last night, we needed a perfect end.  The day had been far from perfect.  It had been rather rough in fact.  We arrived in Yellowstone with a broken furnace and night highs in the frigid 20’s.  By the time my beloved husband arrived, we were all sick. Very sick.  Bubbly green noses sick.  So sick, in fact, that I had a difficult time appreciating my husband’s insight.  If everyone was so sick, why hadn’t we stopped at a hotel?  Had I used the phone book to find an RV repair place?  Had I considered replacing the battery, since the propane furnace has an electric starter?  No, as a matter of fact, a hotel never crossed my mind.  I figured my knight in shinning armor would eliminate the need for an overpriced repair guy.  And why in the world would a propane furnace have an electric starter!  I bit my tongue as my triumphant husband installed the new battery and flicked the useless furnace back to life. 

After a long day of relinquishing total control to my better half, I found an irresistible opportunity when it came time to build a campfire.  Luck would have it that my beloved boyscout could not get the fire going.  He huffed and puffed and added more newspaper but it simply wouldn’t burn.  He muttered something about wet wood as we lovingly teased him about his fire building skills.  Motivated by our taunting, Chad had the fire roaring within a half hour.

The friction returned the next day when it came time to find a picnic spot to grill some burgers.  To Chad’s credit, he got the fire up and going with no difficulty but we still had our fun.  A word to the wise, do not discredit your husband’s survival skills least you find yourself nominated for collecting firewood.  He handed his City Girl a hatchet and pointed me in the direction of some felled trees. 

Girl scouts taught me how to bat my eyes and sell cookies but our troop taught me nothing of survival skills.  My husband didn’t need to know this.  I just survived three very intense weeks on an undertaking few people would have considered.  What was a little firewood?  I confidently grabbed the cutter thingy and marched just out of sight while my son questioned dad’s choice.  “Does Mom know what she is doing?  Dad, I think this is a man’s job.  Besides you know what happens when you give a zookeeper a hatchet.”  To which Moose replied, “Yeah, you get a Johnson Chronicle.”  That did it!  My pride seriously injured, I was determined to return to camp with more firewood than they could burn.  I just had to figure out how to use the little axe thingy and we would be in business.

It turns out that trees are a lot stronger than they look.  I chopped and chopped and chopped and blast it if that little branch refused to let go.  Refusing to return empty handed, I began to jump on the branch.  We were back in business!  The branch snapped right off.

I made a show of chopping and quietly jumping the branch off as my little pile of branches began to grow.  Chop, chop, jump.  Chop, chop, jump.  I have a healthy respect for anyone who can swing an axe thingy and hit the same spot over and over again.  If my notches were within a six inch distance of each other, I was doing great.  It wouldn’t do to retrieve branches chopped to death so many branches were sacrificed in my attempt to disprove my hubby. 

Every fire needs a few good sized logs so I decided to tackle something a little bigger.  I found a slightly thicker branch and got to work.  Chop, chop, jump.  Chop, chop, jump.  It wouldn’t break.  This was becoming a point of pride so I set down the axe thingy and decided to concentrate my efforts on jumping.  I’m not exactly a petite little thing so surely it would break under the full force of my weight.  I guess I should have felt flattered but my frustration only grew as the branch refused to break.  I started jumping more aggressively.  The whole tree was bobbing up and down but the stupid branch refused to break. 

I jumped harder and harder.  The tree bounced higher and higher.  I jumped. It bounced.  And then it broke.  Have you ever been so involved in the process that you forgot your goal?  Well, I was so wrapped up in jumping on the branch I kind of forget to think about what would happen when it finally broke.  It went crashing down and a very surprised City Girl followed. I managed to catch myself but only by stepping into the biggest bison patty you have ever seen.  There is a reason cowboys wear boots.  Sandals are not proper camping attire.  I howled silently as I jumped around looking desperately for anything to wipe my feet on.  Moving towards a stump to clean off, I stepped right into an ant hill.  Not only am I covered in bison muck but I now have a zillion really angry ants crawling up my legs.

Pride cometh before the fall.  I refused to give my situation away.  Drew rounded the corner and I drew my inner strength to stand there and smile.  Everything is great.  Look at my pile of firewood.  I have one more branch to collect and I will be right along.  By the time I am done lying through my teeth, an army of angry little critters have marched up my leg.  I invent a new rendition of the Macarena as I am slowly eaten alive.  Try as I might, those little suckers would not die.  Never underestimate the power of a bite, even if only from a itty bitty ant. 

Never again will City Girl challenge the survival skills of her husband.  I cannot use a little axe thingy.  I will buy my firewood from a cute little stand for $8 a bundle.  I will wear my trendy sport shoes so I can stomp bison patties without feeling the squish between my toes.  This city slicker can’t wait to get back to civilization with my sweet Starbucks!  

Today was one of those mornings when we just couldn’t get going.  My aspirations to get an early start vanished when I threw off the covers to go walk the dog.  It was SO cold!!!  Rusty just looked at me when I burrowed back into my covers.  Once we finally got moving nothing was where it was left.  Someone couldn’t find a shoe and another person swore they didn’t own a toothbrush.  It is one thing to loose something in a house but it’s not like there are a lot of hiding places in a 21 foot camper!  A Mommy timeout was in order after I found myself transforming into my mother, “If it was a snake, it would have bit you!”  After the awning incident, I took measures into my own hands and stocked a Mommy medicine kit.  A dip into my secret supply of cookie dough put everything back into perspective.  The rest of our morning went smoothly.

After an hour of unsuccessful searching for an attraction I swear doesn’t exist, we found ourselves at a place called Reptile Garden.  There is something about little boys that makes them attracted to slimy, icky things.  This being true, I found myself forking over way to much money to look at icky things behind glass.  Wouldn’t you know, the first thing they did was drag me into the reptile house?  What is with the fascination to venomous snakes, poisonious frogs, and furry spiders?  Can’t we just stick to the cute little puppies that lick your face and drool on you?  Like the reptile dome wasn’t enough, we had to hunt down the komodo dragon.  These things can eat people and my son wants me to turn my back to I so he can take my picture.  I think not.

It turned out that the place wasn’t all bad.  The kids got to go face to face with a 525 pound tortiouse.  I was a little apprehensive as Nate started to cover the big guy with slobbery kisses but a teenage docent assured me he was a gentle giant.  I didn’t have the nerve to tell her I was more worried about the turtle than my kid.  Nate slobbered away and the critter survived unharmed.  My personal favorite was the prairie dog exhibit.  It’s not just that they are cute and furry, although they certainly do have that in their favor.  A snake just crawls around like you don’t exist but the prairie dogs will play hide and seek with you.  Take, for instance, the time when Nate screamed.  Those little critters ran for cover like nobody’s business.  After a minute, they drew straws and the new guy popped his head out and squeeked an all clear to his buddies.  Before you knew it, they were all playing like nothing had happened. 

After one poor little feller had a nervous breakdown, we decided it would be best if we removed Nate from the area.  That is when the boys found another teenager holding a seriously scary looking lizard.  Picture a lizard mating with a porcupine.  The teenie bop was obviously a fry short of a happy meal because she thought I should touch the beast.  I draw the line at driving my kids across the country.  I have no need to touch something that ugly.  She giggled like I was teasing and stuck it out closer.  Ummm, no.  The boys peppered her with questions for five minutes until she got up to leave.  Thinking we had finally scared her off, I made the mistake of stopping to fasten the baby’s seatbelt.  I should have run while I had the chance.  She reappeared a moment later with the biggest snake you have ever seen. 

“It’s a python,” she bubbled as she held him out towards me. 

I spent the next half hour trying to save my kids from certain death.  The boys were oblivious to their peril and seem obsessed with getting eaten.  They squealed with glee when she offered to let them hold the thing.  What is wrong with these people? 

We managed to escape unscathed only to find ourselves at the croc exhibit.  There is just something about an animal big enough to eat me that leaves me a little uneasy.  I was in the process of pushing my brood through when another teenager walks out into a display and starts pushing the critters with his shoes.  The alligators scurried right into the water but the crocodiles completely ignored the ignorant youth.  When it became apparent he was being ignored, the young man started jabbing the beast with the end of a rake!  Even Kaleb saw the foolishness in this, “Are you trying to get eaten?”  The man laughed and explained he was supposed to mow the grass but he needed to get the reptiles into the water.  Acting like this justified being eaten, he resumed raking an irritated crocodile.  The reptile opened his mouth to eat the man.  The guy didn’t even realize his life was in danger.  He laughed and good naturedly stuck the handle of the rake in the maw.  At this point, I decided it was time to leave before my children got a life lesson in common sense, National Geographic style. 

It was unfortunate that someone had the foresight of putting the exit inside the over priced gift shop.  Up to this point, the kids and I have had an understanding.  I will take them on a trip of a lifetime and they don’t ask for expensive souvenirs.  Each stop earns a postcard, a lapel pin, and a smashed penny where applicable.  The kids have a fun way to remember our mini adventures and I get out the door with less than $15 of souvenirs.  Our system worked great until today.  Who would have thought that Reptile World would sell the most adorable Moose figurines, including one playing a guitar?  Apparently Moose statues don’t sell well, go figure, because today they were half off. 

How could I pass up the perfect addition to Moosey’s collection when it was on sale?!?!  Chad later brought it to my attention that the savings were invalidated by the additional gifts I then had to purchase for the other three.  Husbands!  He didn’t appreciate that I saved him $20.  He didn’t see the pure joy on Kaleb’s face when I told him we could take it home.  After our conversation, I thought it best to omit the little detail that it took them a half hour to find the correct box, during which time Nate flipped out and was handed the world’s most expensive stuffed froggie which inadvertently got paid for before the price tag was looked at.  It was definitely not a $15 dollar gift store but now Nate has a $20 lovie to drool on.

We have enjoyed a couple of incredible days.  Thank goodness we padded our trip.  There is simply no way to do this area justice in just two days.  Our first day was a whirlwind of activity with Sturgis, Mount Rushmore, and Stan, the dino man.  Yesterday was a much neded down day complete with sleeping in (as much as you can with four rascals), reorganized the trailer, and puttering around Custer.  The boys were tickled with the artistic bison statues scattered around town so after lunch we went on a photo safari.  We spent the afternoon wandering around town talking to everyone while we chased bison.  All three kids got to try their hand at taking pictures.  Nothing like seeing a four year old with a digital camera to start a conversation, as if I needed any help with Drew by my side.  The most unusual man we met was a biker named Dave who was driving cross country with his dog in a beat up Jetta.  He was collecting signatures on his car from people along his journey and invited the kids to contribute.  Writing on a car with a permanent marker definitely apparently beats a photo safari.  Bek even went so far as to draw Mr. Dave a pretty picture of a stick girl doing the bamba (Hawaiian) dance!

After saying goodbye to Dave and Buddy, we headed back to camp for an hour of rest time.  Of all the comforts of home, I miss my hour of daily solitude the most.  I am not sure “quiet” described the time that followed but the kids recharged, like they are ever short of energy, and I got the opportunity to reconnect with my computer friends.   The hour passed way too quickly and we were soon off to see the Crazy Horse Monument.

For those of you unfamiliar, the Crazy Horse Monument is the Native American equivalent to Mount Rushmore except that it is still in the process of being carved.  A homeschool friend suggested it as a stop, but when I looked it up online and discovered they had a $25 entry charge, I nixed it.  It was an outrageous fee to view a chunk of half carved rock.  My beloved history major demanded it be returned to the list.  Seeing a work in progress would supposedly help them appreciate Rushmore. He argued that its cultural significance warranted a stop if nothing else.  Chad hadn’t demanded much so I couldn’t refuse him in good conscious.  Grudgingly, I added it back to the list.

If you are ever in the Black Hills area, you simply MUST, MUST, MUST stop and check this place out.  The $25 dollars is still a bit to swallow but it totally changed our perspective on Mount Rushmore and the Native American experience.  I was amazed to learn that the project is completely privately funded.  Rushmore was built in 14 years by a team of some 400 men working from a bottomless government budget.  Crazy Horse was started back in the ‘30s by a single man hired by Sitting Bull.  Korzak worked independently for something like three decades.  They have a team of technicians working on it now but the whole program is run by his wife and seven of their ten children, a true family dream.  When you realize the grand scale of it all, it is simply amazing. 

We all left the orientation movie in awe and then moved through the Native American Art Museum.  Between Drew’s passion for Native American history and Kaleb’s appreciation of art, we could have spent an entire day wandering this section.  The life sized teepee and bust of Chief Joseph were the show stoppers for the zoo.  Outside, the boys were more interested with the 1/36^th model than the incomplete mountain itself.  Standing in the Sculpture Studio you can see the mountain just beyond the model.  The accuracy is amazing!  Postcards and souvenir pins were more fascinating that an expensive bus tour to the bottom of the mountain so we headed to the gift shop to pick out our treasures. They are supposed to have the most incredible laser light show but the kids were half frozen from exploring outside so we decided to pass.  On the way out, Drew got to talk with a blaster who had just gotten off work.  He looked like a chimney sweep from Mary Popins with dirt from head to toe.  Drew peppered him with questions as we all walked out to the parking lot.  Drew was a little taken back to learn that they work seven days a week and that the man preferred the old tools to the new.  The blasting had obviously damaged his hearing which started an interesting conversation about personal sacrifice.  It was an incredible day!

After returning to the camper, I made a startling discovery.  I don’t know how to turn on the heater!  With highs in the nineties when we left, working the furnace was the furthest thing from my mind.  The thermostat read a chilly 47 degrees as we pulled into camp.  We spent the night all snuggled up in a single bed under a mountain of blankets.  We were a pile of giggles and wiggles until Rusty felt left out and joined us.  Nothing like having an 80 pound lapdog join the party to make one feel confined.  Everyone eventually found their comfy spots and settled down for a good night’s sleep.  Snuggled up with four sets of popsicle toes, I drifted off to sleep feeling like the luckiest woman in the world.

Yesterday I discovered that South Dakota doesn’t believe in cell sites.  I drove across upwards of six hundred miles of the state, and not once did I have service.  Amazing!  At first, being alone in the great expanse was a little discerning. While I assured Drew that everything that could have gone wrong already has, I know full well I am yarning and it would be really nice to be able to call for help if our adventure takes another turn for the worst.  Anywhere else in the world, you wait long enough and someone will see you stranded on the side of the road but when I drove a half hour without seeing a soul I began checking my lifeless phone with fervor. 

I will be the first to admit my love affair with electronics. If it has batteries or a power cord and promises to do something faster and better, I probably have it.  This was never more apparent than trying to pack for my trip: laptop, charger, digital camera, charger, memory sticks, memory stick reader, digital camcorder, charger, super video cable to download Drew’s documentary clips onto laptop, 3 Game Boys, 24 rechargeable batteries, high speed battery charger, cell phone, phone charger, Bluetooth hands free mic, Bluetooth charger, transformer to charge my toys in the car, portable dvd player, dvds, cds, and my newest toy, my satellite radio.   What started out as luxury in the name of simplifying my life somewhere along the line transformed into necessity.  Was there really life before laptops?  What did people do for directions before computer map programs?  How people they make reservations on the road without cell phones? 

As I drove along obsessing over my lack of coverage, it occurred to me that my phone was not just a lifeline, it was also an electronic leash.  For the last 200 miles, my phone had been silent.  I hadn’t had a single phone call asking me if I was in a ditch yet.  I hadn’t gotten any friendly weather updates about tornados four states away.  I was free from the worries of life back home.  The happy dance will definitely be in order when my phone starts working again, but in the meantime, I decided I was going to make the most of my temporary freedom.  I wasn’t sure how but it didn’t take long to find out!

My spontaneous spirit took charge when the kids excitedly read a turn off sign for Laura Ingall Wilder’s homestead.  We have read a number of the Little House books as a family and it seemed essencial we see De Smet first hand.  The turn off sign didn’t mention that the homestead was 75 miles off the freeway but once we got off, the kids were so excited it didn’t really matter.  I confirmed my phone was still dead and then headed off to step back in time and experience life on the prairie. 

When I moved to West Virginia, I remember feeling like a displaced city girl.  Three years later, I was reminded at how much of the city girl still survives.  I was overwhelmed with wonder as I watched the scenery change.  At first, we were surrounded by overgrown lettuce (aka soybeans) for as far as the eyes could see.  Gradually, the lettuce was replaced by golden fields of cornstalks all planted in even and orderly rows.  As we got closer to the homestead, I found myself completely immersed in prairie grasses.  Amazement filled me when I reflected on the courage of the pioneers.  Armed with my bag of electronics, I am “brave” enough to drive my rascals across the country on paved roads supplied with KOA’s and air conditioned rest stops.  Driving through this empty expanse impressed upon me the task that little Laura and others undertook when they chose to move West.

When we pulled into the gravel driveway of Laura’s homestead, I wasn’t impressed.  There was a welcome center surrounded by lots of prairie grass.  One of the setbacks of spontaneity is driving hours out of your way to find yourself at a dud.   It appeared that this was a side trip was should have skipped.  Having driven an hour and a half out of our way, there was nothing to do but go in.

Going in turned out to be one of the best choices of the trip.  We were greeted by the most friendly woman who invited the kids to watch a captivating movie on homesteading and the life of little Laura. After sending Daddy an e-postcard, we paid our admittance fee and headed outside to explore the homestead.  We were all amazed as we wandered through dank dugouts, itty bitty houses, and learned life skills on the prairie.  We washed clothes, made rope, ground wheat, and rode horses.  This stop set us five hours off schedule but it was worth every second!  The kids walked away from the homestead with a whole new appreciation for the toils of pioneer life!  Drew navigated us back to the main highway and we resumed our six hour drive into Black Hills, South Dakota.

Have I mentioned yet that we happened to wander into the middle of the largest motorcycle rally in the country?  Apparently, around this time each year, thousands of motorcycle fanatics, 475,000 of them to be precise, fuel up and head to Sturgis, SD for a week of biker heaven.  I had no idea that I was going to be the only SUV on the road in a sea of bikes but it was a great experience.  The kids waved.  The bikers honked.  Natey reved his imaginary motorcycle until he was horse.  It was almost midnight by the time we found our stop and set up camp, apparently the only campers on site without a bike.

It had been a very long drive so we all snuggled up and planned on sleeping in.  When we finally decided to start our day, it became apparent that the masses were hungry.  My cell phone was still dead so I was anxious to find a pay phone and touch base with Chad.  We hadn’t talked since I had dropped Samantha off at the airport and I wanted to catch him up on our adventures.  Thinking we could kill two birds with one stone, we headed for the truck stop at the edge of town.  Wouldn’t you know, the line for the phone was eight people deep.  We headed over to the Visitor’s Center where we discovered we wouldn’t have cell service anywhere in the state and that they did not have a pay phone.  Would you believe that our next campsite didn’t have a pay phone either?!?!  We dropped the camper off and went phone booth hunting.

When we finally called Daddy, I learned that he had started a manhunt for our zoo.  Fearing the worst when we failed to call, he started calling the sherrif departments of each county in South Dakota who each asked why I would drive into the area during the country’s biggest motorcycle rally.  “Why does she do anything?!?!”  He was on a first name basis with the campground receptionist, who failed to mention anything when we checked in.  Chad’s fears grew as family members started calling him to ask about our progress.  No, he still hadn’t heard from me.  The police and hospitals in the area had his number.  He would call them as soon as he heard anything but they continued to call anyway.

My heart broke when my beloved answered the phone in tears, “Thank God you are alive!!!”  I had no idea he thought otherwise!  I caught him up on our adventures and assured him the bikers weren’t any problem while Nate reved in the background.  The line of people waiting for the pay phone grew as each of the kids talked with Daddy.  By the end of the conversation, Chad had calmed down enough to realize he had to go and start passing word we were still alive and well. 

Note to self: Next cross-country trip, change cell carriers!

Note to family: Sorry about the scare…  We are fine and having a blast meeting all our biker friends.

After a frustrating 24 hours of high teenage drama, I roused the zoo at dawn to drive Samantha to the airport.  Between a sleepless night camping at the end of a runway and parallel parking a 21 foot trailer in an airport lot, my nerves were shot before we entered the building.  This was unfortunate because Samantha became hysterical when she was informed she could not board the plane. With terrorist levels at their peak, unaccompanied minors are not currently being permitted to fly.  I fully understand the reasons for this policy but was seriously annoyed at 1) someone failing to mention this when the tickets were purchased just hours before 2)needlessly waking up a seriously grumpy baby and 3)being at the airport in the first place.  After four emotionally charged hours, Samantha was headed home on a new airline and we were back on the road.

As I departed the airport, I forced myself to take a deep breath and reflect on our trip.  In the last five days we have spent a cramped night baking in a Wal-Mart parking lot, almost been arrested for animal abuse, lost a trailer on the freeway, and hand washed enough poopy pants to last a lifetime.  Now, my navigator and helper had jumped ship 1,500 miles from home leaving me alone with four very disappointed little people.  This isn’t exactly what I had planned on when we set out for an adventure of a lifetime. 

What had I been thinking when this idea possessed me, anyway? I wanted to give my rascals a love for adventure.  I wanted to reward them for two years of diligent study.  I wanted them to have fun and make memories.  I wanted to give them the belief that they can do anything they set their heart and mind to.  Things certainly haven’t gone according to plan but when I stopped and thought about it, I was surprised to realize I have been accomplishing these initial goals. 

Like most everything else in life, this too was simply a matter of perspective.  The mangled awning incident represented an extremely expensive and time consuming catastrophe to me but to Drew, it was a chance to demonstrate his mechanical genius and mastery of Dad’s tools.  He seizes every chance he gets to tell people about how he saved the day.  Our clash with Animal Control has given us all a new appreciation for our faithful pooch.  I am still working on a positive slant to the Potty Blues…  None-the-less, I simply need to shift my perspective and move on.

So what if Samantha jumped ship.  Life goes on!  The boys held conference and decided they are going to pick up the slack.  I admit to being a little skeptical about their declaration but they have followed through with flying colors.  Drew rode shot gun and navigated me through 650 miles of driving today while Kaleb took it upon himself to entertain Nate.  What started out as a dreaded driving day turned into the best day of the trip.  Free of being held to a schedule, the boys decided to add a 150 mile detour to visit Laura Ingalls Wilder’s homestead in DeSmet, S.D.  The stop wasn’t on the schedule but I wouldn’t have traded today for anything.  Though everyone could have had their own seat, my zoo chose to pile into the first two rows so we could visit, sing, and joke.  I got to teach the boys the fine art of hand windsurfing after feasting on Drew’s gourmet lunch of squeeze cheese sandwiches. 

It won’t be long before we are back in the rush of practices and recitals, lessons and chores and this will all be a string of memories.  They probably won’t remember the poop plague but they will never forget how we laughed when Nate tried to eat his cornhusk doll nor the amazement of walking into Laura’s dugout.  Fro this point forward, I am making a conscious choice to cherish this time, from the endless knock-knock jokes to the sleepy prayers for Daddy.  I am choosing to take joy in this journey wherever it make take us.

Catastrophe (noun) – the act of a zookeeper driving five children across the country unmanned armed only with her faithful pooch.

Things I wish I had known a week ago...

Under no condition should a woman attempt to take her children on an adventure of a lifetime alone.  Vacation, sight see, holiday, or retreat but whatever you do, don’t set out for an adventure of a lifetime or things might very well happen that no one will ever forget.

A new camper should never be taken out without a trial run.  It doesn’t matter whether a husband will be left waiting at the airport in Yellowstone.  Let him wait!  Trial runs reveal trivial flaws, like the fact that the rear bed doesn’t fold up once you have freed it.  It will also reveal the lack of essential supplies: the wood you need to get the camper off your hitch, ample pillows, knowledge of emptying the dump tank, and the ability of lighting the propane, eyebrows intact.  Trial runs may also be used to deter the weak of heart. 

When using a computer map program, it is important to ensure that the navigator is computer savvy.  Warning signs may include, “How do you turn it on?”  “The covered bridges are all connected by the blue road, just follow that,” and my personal favorite, “It says that is in Canada.”

Leaving a dog in a car in the state of Indiana can result in a) bring paged to return to a car that is surrounded by police  b) having your beloved pooch taken by animal control  c) being convicted of animal abuse  and d) being sentenced with jail time.  Who knew the Children’s Museum could be so exciting?  I am happy to report that Rusty is back in our possession, charges were ultimately dropped, and I am never again taking an animal on vacation.

Under no circumstances should a mother revoke the electronic privileges for her children.  It doesn’t matter what a child has said to his sister, restricting hand held game systems is sadistic. 

Before you fly off the handle, count the number of potty trips you have made in the last hundred miles and then ask yourself if you are ready to accept responsibility for the entertainment of your stir crazy jabber jaw.  In the heat of passion, never ever, EVER restrict privileges for multiple days.

Double, triple, and quadruple check that your hitch is correctly locked into place before getting onto a freeway.  Just because it looks right doesn’t mean you won’t find yourself fixing a trailer that tried to go on vacation without you.  Sudden vision out your rear view mirror can result in uncontrollable tears and shakes at the side of a road. 

When a 13 year old tells you it is all clear and to keep on coming back, don’t believe her.  Zip ties and duct tape might help MacGyver save the world with but they sure won’t hold an awning on.

Man cannot live on hamburger helper alone.  A 10 for $10 sale does not mean that you want to eat the stuff around the clock.  Please note the importance of checking the operability of can openers before stocking your pantry with Raviolis as a backup.  Desperate zoo members have had noted success, albeit painstaking and messy, opening cans with a screwdriver and hammer.

Did I mention quadruple checking the hitch lock?  Bad, bad, bad.

Only 7 weeks more to go.

If you give a mom a trailer, she is going to want to take her kids on a trip and you know what that means.  If she takes her kids on a trip, they are probably going to get lost. When they get lost, they are going to fall behind schedule and eat lots of fast food while searching for the right state.

If you eat too much fast food, it might make hurt your tummy and give little people poo-poo soup and when kids get poop soup, they might have LOTS of dirty laundry.  With a pile of dirty laundry and no washing machine, a desperate mom might give everyone medicine to clog them up.

But, if you give a Moose an Imodium, it might work a little too well and someone may clog the trailer potty everyone has promised NOT to poop in. If Mom connects the sewer hose, she might discover someone turned on the sink and turned the floor into a swimming pool. 

When Mom cleans up the flood, the baby might take advantage of the distraction and dump Cheetos all over the trailer (again).  When Mom sweeps up the Cheetos, she might step backwards into the dog’s water.  If someone respills the bag of Cheetos while she is cleaning up the water, Mom might banish everyone to the pool and finish setting up camp in sweet solitude.

If Mom gets hot setting up camp, she may switch on the air conditioning.  When the A.C. kicks on, she may suddenly remember the present in the potty and rush to open all the windows.

After she opens all the windows, she might go fishing for potty logs and desperately miss her husband.  When she calls her husband, she might hang up on him if he finds her pain side-splittingly funny.  Angry at her husband, she might start putting the kids to bed. After the children finally fall asleep, she might realize they are exactly one pillow short and try to fall asleep wondering what possessed them to give a mom a trailer.

Today I am taking a break from semi-frantic packing to celebrate 9 wonderful years with my beloved.  It’s difficult to believe that it has been that long!  Chad was supposed to take care of the day but I could see him dropping the ball so I decided that instead of getting frustrated I would be proactive and do it myself.  This was all compounded by the fact that Chad is having serious issues with me leaving for eight weeks.  Salt on the wound, I am even taking his dog.  My sweet guy has been alternating between stomping and moping around the house in mourning since I bought his plane tickets to fly out and meet us in Yellowstone.  Something drastic needed to be done to get the hubby back on board!

Have I mentioned that I love to scheme?  There is just something about sneaking around, putting things into motion that you just know are going to blow someone away that brings me inherent joy.  The first part of scheming is to lay a false trail so I let Chad believe that taking me out to dinner Sunday would suffice for nine years of marriage.  To his credit, he found a Japanese Steakhouse that prepared your food at your table while the chef juggled knives and set your eyebrows on fire.  The kids would have loved it but not the most romantic place on the planet.

As soon as Chad left the house, the Happy Anniversary Fairy whisked up the kids and raced to beat him to work.  I couldn’t believe my luck.  I hit every red light between our humble abode and the freeway.  The irony peeked when he pulled out from a gas station right in front of me.  After an exciting cloak and dagger pursuit hiding behind semi’s complete with mom supplied spy music, we arrived unspotted and dropped off a pile of gifts at the guard’s desk.

I wasn’t halfway to the freeway when my cell buzzed.  I could hear him blushing over the phone.  When did I deliver the presents?  What was the card all about?  Did I really have to wrap them in hearts and red ribbon?  He had to carry them through two very long, very populated buildings back to his desk.  I think anniversary #10 calls for a bouquet of balloons.

I laughed and said the card explained it all….

I reminded him of his promise to hurry home so we could run to Wally World to buy a first aid kit.  If I am going to drive five kids across the country, I need to be prepared for anything.  After hanging up, the kids burst out laughing.  Wal-Mart was the last thing on my mind.  We ran home for a whirlwind cleanup and packing season before picking up lunch at heading over to Audrey’s house.  Audrey is a beloved friend who had become a co-conspirator the day before as we walked the mall hunting for an outfit perfect for my big night.  Only a true friend would accompany you and six kids into Victoria’s Secrets. 

“Mom, it stinks like girls in here!” 

“Where’s the rest of it?” 

“Hubba, hubba!” 

Together, we had found the perfect dress and now we were headed over to her place so she could do my hair and makeup.  We arrived at 1pm.  Chad should be opening box #2 anytime now so I turned off my phone, left it in the ZooMobile, and headed inside. 

Two hours later I emerged feeling like a princess.  Audrey had given me a flirty updo, an upside French braid with cascading curls, and then helped me into my dress.  After a few flirty pictures, we rounded up my zoo and raced off to pick up Samantha who had offered to babysit for the evening.  I dropped the kids off at the house and then headed into Hagerstown to check into the hotel.  Half tempted to collapse on the bed and simply enjoy the air conditioning, I stocked the fridge, set out the candles and cards, and checked the clock.  4pm: Chad should be opening box #3 now.

The Happy Anniversary Fairy was starting to get nervous.  Would this be the ticket to pull Chad out of his grumpy slump?  Would he kill me over the cost of the suite?  Would he appreciate the scheming or take offence to being lied to for a few days?  Too late to worry about the details now!  Time to get to Outback and meet the hubby…

With all my plans, there was one slight flaw.  By leaving the phone in the car, I didn’t get the message that Chad had a five o’clock phone conference.  Six sodas and a basket of cheese fries later, my husband finally arrived.  He was very appreciative of my schemes but the night was far from done. Box #3 had been filled with a new outfit complete with personal items so after dinner I dragged him across the street for a photo session at my favorite one hour place. 

By eight o’clock, Chad was getting interested in heading home but I had a severe craving for ice cream.  My practical minded husband thought that the mall DQ would fix that but I NEEDED to try a new place Audrey had told be about on the far side of Hagerstown.  Having lived with me through four pregnancies, my husband knows better to argue when I saw I need something food oriented but he didn’t like the idea of us taking both cars.  After some serious spinning, he was convinced and we headed off.  Afraid that I had blown my cover story, I made a show of pulling into a strip mall to look for the nonexistent store.  When I finally pulled into the hotel parking lot, he was completely frustrated.  “We aren’t going to find it.  Let’s head home and you can call Audrey for directions another time.” 

I wish I had a camera for the look on his face when I got out of the car and started walking towards the building!  He was absolutely and completely perplexed when I explained we were staying here for the night.

But Samantha needs to get home by 9:30!

But I couldn’t find anyone to watch the kids.

But, but, but….

How do you do this?!?!

Needless to say, I have a very happy hubby.  Not only did we get a much needed night out before but