It all started innocently enough last Friday afternoon. We were having our house fumigated for termites, so it seemed like a perfect time to head out for a quick weekend getaway. We packed up all our food and stashed in our neighbors' garage, packed up the kids and stashed them in the Oddy, and we were off to San Luis Obispo for three days and two nights of rest and relaxation. It all seemed so perfect...
Brimming with optimism and excitement as we backed out of the driveway, we put on our sunglasses and talked about how much fun we'd have. Leslie even suggested a December trip to New Mexico. "How far would that be?" she asked. The sky was the limit. Or at least the sky above Albuquerque.
And so how did the weekend turnout? Here's a look, by the numbers.
1
The number of CDs we listened to during the drive. Remember back in the old days when road tripping meant grabbing an armload of CDs on your way out the door and cranking them nonstop as if they were fuel for your soul? No longer. We let the kids watch Shrek 2 and Charlotte's Web. Not quite as cool as the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but at least it keeps them quiet.
10
The average MPH during the first hour of our trip. Not sure if you've heard, but LA traffic kinda sucks.
25
The number of miles into the 200-mile trip when we first heard that timeless question: "Are we there yet?" Please explain the logic of this question. If you're driving in the middle of the freeway, how can you possibly be there yet? From now on I think I'll answer this question like this: "Why, yes, Alison. We are there. I took a day off work; we packed up half of our belongings; we forced you and your brother to sit on the toilet even though you both swore that you didn't have to go the bathroom; we notified both sets of neighbors of our plans; we stopped the mail, the paper, and the milk delivery; and we paid fifty bucks to fill up the tank just so we could come to this exact place: the third lane of the 405 freeway, about a mile and a half north of the Washington exit. Isn't this beautiful?" But perhaps my sarcasm wouldn't be appreciated.
4
The number of tantrums during our pitstop dinner at the Red Robin in Santa Barbara. Baby Kate was the only one who behaved. The rest of us were feeling a bit fussy. I had been looking forward to the meal, but since I had to inhale my burger through a straw in order to finish before Henry's head exploded, it left a bit to be desired.
1
The number of people in the restaurant who changed seats because of our party. This was a guy who was sitting in the booth with his back to Henry and me. A few minutes after he sat down he got up and switched over to the other side. Leslie wondered if maybe we should apologize, but I find things like that more amusing than anything else. If he was bothered that Hurricane Henry blew a few raindrops onto his softball game, he should try living in the eye of the storm for a while.
2
The number of beds in our two room suite. Leslie and Alison in the bedroom, Henry and I in the front room, Kate in a portable crib. As crazy as Henry is when he's awake, he sleeps like a stone. Which brings us to...
20
My total hours of sleep for our two nights in San Luis Obispo. Seriously. My plan was to put out the lights, wait until Henry fell asleep, and then catch up on some reading, but I was never able to stay awake. I slept ten hours each night -- well, not ten consecutive hours. Kate woke up a couple times each night, and Henry wet the bed for the first time in about three months, but it was still the most sleep I've gotten in a long, long time.
3
On a scale of one to ten, where my dear wife would rank me on a coolness scale. SLO is a typical college town, and the downtown area was crawling with students on Saturday evening. We chose a pizza place for dinner, and for much of our meal it looked like a casting call for MTV's "The Real World." These people were young, beautiful, and -- above all else -- tragically hip. At point, though, it was if someone changed the channel on us. A table in front of us opened up and three incredibly dorky girls sat down. One had braces and a goofy pony tail on the side of her head, another hadn't combed her hair in a week and wore a sweatshirt that said "GYNAMSTICS" across the chest. Leslie (part of the in crowd in high school and beyond) took a moment to sharpen her knives, then turned to me and said, "Are you feeling a little more at home now?" Ouch.
755
The approximate number of times Henry said the word "no" during our trip. Actually, the word he says is "NONONONONONONO!!!" I'm not sure how it started, but whenever Henry's upset about something or not getting his way, all he'll say is "NO! NO! NO!" Pain in the ass.
2
The number of times during Sunday's lunch that Alison and Henry spilled their drinks. At this point the "vacation" was getting quite old, and tantrums, objections, and outright refusals were the order of the day. These spills seemed emblematic of the entire weekend. And of course, Alison's spill landed in Leslie's lap, and Henry's landed on my leg. A few minutes later Kate decided to join the fun and spit up on my shirt.
0
The number of times that Henry took a crap during the weekend. We had forgotten his toilet seat and he was too freaked out to perform on a normal toilet, even with me holding him. So no crap. You try enjoying a weekend with a bombshell like that hanging over your head.
And finally...
0
The number of words I received in response when I asked Leslie on the way home, "So how's that trip to New Mexico look right about now?"
Ummm, Hank? Aren't you forgetting something? How about....
5...The number of times the Stanford football team choked last Saturday.
21...The number of unanswered points UCLA scored.
1...Number of Cal alumni watching the game in NYC and wondering when would be a good time to e-mail Hank.
Just kidding, my friend. Glad you had a nice break and caught up on some sleep. More posting, please!
Posted by: MetroDad | November 02, 2005 at 06:46 AM
So it's come to this -- I've got people using my comments section to run smack on the Mighty Card. But MetroDad speaks truth: the Card took a big fall on Saturday. Another silver lining from the trip was that I didn't get to watch the entire collapse, only the short but painful overtime.
So enjoy this vicarious victory, MetroDad. I hope it keeps you warm until Nov. 19th.
Posted by: Hank | November 02, 2005 at 08:24 AM
Sorry to interrupt this regularly schedule football smack talking session...
I know that it isn't nice to laugh at others misfortune, but sweey jeebus, your "are we there yet?" response has added years to my life.
Posted by: tpon | November 02, 2005 at 02:57 PM
Oh the Red Robin is one evening I'd like to forget. . . bah!
So funny. Querido.
Posted by: Leslie | November 02, 2005 at 05:26 PM
Go Bears! Oh, wait, anyway, came over here from Leslie's site. Sounds like you had an interesting "vacation." If I were still in SLO County, I would have loved to have met you ... I think. And the pizza place? Must have been Woodstock's.
Posted by: Mariko | November 04, 2005 at 11:02 AM
Rollicking good read! I do want to temper how much I laugh, because we aspire one day to have little people of our own...and karma, she can be fierce. I love the Henry poo bomb thought! Glad you caught up on lots of sleep, though!
Posted by: Giao | November 06, 2005 at 02:06 AM
HA HA, I'm laughing at your expense and in total sympathy. I hear you about the 405, the non-vacation and a lot more and I only have ONE kid! Came over here from Your Wife's site--
whatdo ya expect with a name like Snowbear?
I'll be back to see if you can provide me with more entertainment!
;-)
Posted by: Snowbear | November 12, 2005 at 08:03 AM