Adventures In Traveling - The Real Story, Pt. 1

So now that I've had a chance to recover from our little adventure last week (and start to deal with the mountain of laundry and dirty dishes that awaited me at the castle - apparently dear hubby only came home from work to change clothes and eat), I can now tell you the truth about driving 800 miles round trip with two small children.

It sucked.

The drive down wasn't too bad. The girls were excited, well-rested and more than ready to watch their new "Mary Poppins" DVD two or three times. The sun was out, the snack bag was full of goodies, and my iPod was full of "Dave Glover Show" podcasts for me to listen to - life was good.

Then we had to drive back.

The girls were exhausted from several days of hardcore playing, no napping and generally whacked schedules - a refreshing and fun change, to be sure, but one that requires recovery time. It was a gray and rainy day, and Their Royal Highnesses were sick of "Mary Poppins" and fought over whose DVD to watch next - Princess Elizabeth preferred "High School Musical" (for the 763rd time) while Princess Grace threw a hissie for "Cinderella" (the object of her current obsession). Although we left right after lunch (prime napping time), both bitterly fought sleep by whacking each other with whatever was handy - and in the backseat, this included: two puppets, coloring books and crayons, sippy cups, various stuffed animals, books, a bag full of DVDs they insisted on taking even though they had no intention of actually watching anything other than the aforementioned DVDs, and three card games. Oh, and Jimmy Hoffa.

The whacking with these items caused eardrum-shattering shrieks to emanate with some regularity from the backseat. You would think my iPod ear buds would filter some of this shrieking out. They didn't - guess that's why they're called ear buds instead of ear-drown-out-shrieking-from-small-princesses. (Apple, endear yourselves to parents everywhere - sell the latter.)

All this, along with Princess Grace's sometimes-obsessive, sometimes indifferent potty training efforts, sets the stage for an epic showdown of Biblical proportions - I've taken to calling it "The Great Osceola McDonalds Pull-Up Fight." True, you could just read the Osceola Police Department's report, but my version will involve fewer ordinance-violating details and more, shall we say, character-driven plot.

To be continued...

P.S. Before my mom freaks out, I'll confess that there was no actual police involvement in "The Great Osceola McDonalds Pull-Up Fight." I can't say for sure they weren't on their way when we left, but at least there was no official police report. Mom, take the paper bag off your face and stop hyperventilating.