{walker whimsy}: T Turns Two ~ The Trip

For T's second birthday, we attempted something almost impossible. We didn't know it was almost impossible at the time, but we sure as hell do now. I want to make sure I get all the nitty gritty details down so when my kids read this in 20 years they will buy me flowers and chocolate for being SUCH A GOOD MOM.

After T's birthday party, we, foolish first-time parents that we are, packed up the kidlets and set out for Denver. The plan was to drive while they slept, check in to a hotel, and wake up at the literal butt crack of dawn (like we do every morning) to visit the aquarium. We left at 8 p.m. It was supposed to take three hours.

If you are a veteran parent, you are now most likely laughing hysterically. Why?

Because it did not take three hours. Oh no.

I wondered why my mom looked at me so funny when I outlined the plan (THANKS FOR THE HEADS UP, MOM.)

First, the kids didn't sleep in the car. They catnapped. Then they woke up and yelled. Then they were hungry. Then somebody pooped. Then we had to change the movie. Then Gracie needed to nurse. Then T lost his binkie. Then somebody pooped again.

I stress-ate through an entire bag of leftover pinata candy in 57 minutes.

We arrived at 1:30 a.m.

Take a road trip, they said.
It will be fun, they said.

Now, the next part deserves a bit of a preface. Grover and I are both small town folk, meaning there's just something about cities that makes us twitchy. We are constantly expecting trouble, probably because we watch wayyy too many cop shows. Plus, we aren't exactly what you'd call well-traveled. Our honeymoon four years ago was the first time either of us had been out of the country ... or on an airplane.

Just call me Beverly. Beverly Hillbilly.

When we arrived at the (rather seedy-looking) hotel, we were keyed up from five hours of baby screaming and being uncomfortable with the idea of millions of other people in our breathing space (slight exaggeration). I realized rather quickly I had picked a dive (but it was such a great deal!). Peeling paint, stained carpet, scuffed walls, weird non-smoky smoke smell, crazy old decorations, et cetera. I promise I'm not being snooty. Those of you who've been unfortunate enough to visit my house know this. My abode is decorated in pure '70s awesome and the floor is almost always sprinkled with baby toys and Cheerios ...
'cuz that way I don't have to feed them snacks ... KIDDING. Sort of.

If I say it was bad, it was baaad.

We checked in reluctantly. After the room key refused to work for the third time, we were upgraded to a suite for our trouble. A stinky suite with a popcorn ceiling (which, uh, I have in my house), unidentifiable smears on the wall (also in my house) and a questionable floor (that, too ... but at least it's MY dirt!).

By this time, T had picked up on the nervousness/disappointment/exhaustion of his parental units. So he did what any self-respecting tired toddler would do. He FLIPPED OUT. It was the tantrum to end all tantrums. He screamed, "GO HOME, MOMMY! GO HOME!" over and over, collapsing into an exhausted baby blob on the floor as soon as we shut the door of the "deluxe suite".

Ewwwww.

I snatched him up right quick.

We tried EVERYTHING to calm him down. Movies, candy, books, bribery. Nothing. While I attempted to tone down Defcon 1, G sat on the bed and played, happy as a clam (what does that saying even mean???). Thank God for small wonders.

After reading Little Blue Truck nine times, he finally downgraded to sniffles. He didn't seem to notice the neighbors having their own domestic explosion in the next room.

At least we gave as good as we got.

He finally passed out around 2 a.m. Or maybe I did. I dreamed about frantically trying to keep the children from licking the walls with the "beep beep beep" of Little Blue Truck reverberating in my head. It was not pleasant.

This photo is soooo misleading.

The babies both popped up at 6. T still wanted to go home, but was not nearly as freaked out as the night before.

But yeah, he definitely still wanted to go home ...

We got ready and went to find the dining room. Did I mention the entire building smelled like pee? Over soggy instant eggs and watered down orange juice, we watched a couple have a screaming match (with profanities in two languages) and then forget their baby in the high chair.

Classy.

Of course, now that I'm going to have three munchkins to accidentally forget, maybe I shouldn't be too quick to judge ...

KEVIN!

On the way out, we almost forgot T's lovey. It was under the bed.

Don't worry, I washed it. Twice.

And that was that.

Now for the happy part. We made it to the aquarium AND the zoo. The kids had a blast ... yes, of course I can read their minds.

And that very long, very ridiculous story was mostly just a ruse to share some (kinda mediocre) pictures, so ... here!

"Look at dat!"

The shark tunnel. Grover's face makes me LOL. A lot.

This was T's expression pretty much the entire time we were at the aquarium.

They see me rollin', they hatin'.

Staring down a sea urchin

G and Pop Pop.
I don't know how she ended up with her brother's binky.
All part of her master plan to take over the universe, I'm sure.

I was decidedly envious of the peacefully napping bears.

Giraffe bums for your viewing pleasure.
You're welcome.

Pop Pop did A LOT of baby carrying.

I don't know why she was looking at me like this, but I find it hilarious.

Smile and wave, boys.

T had sunscreen in his eye, poor baby.
Me? Tired? Nahh.
Yes, the fuzzy one is related to us. My bro.
And I love how G is trying to rip out Pop Pop's beard.

Time to go!

Bringing home baby (giraffe).
He played with it for approximately 30 seconds.
$17 well spent.

If you can believe it, the return trip was even worse. It took SEVEN HOURS. I think road tripping with babies would be a great way to torture people you hate with a burning passion. Like Barney. Muahahahahaha.

When we got home I was was all, "WE are nevah, evah, evah road tripping togethah. WeeeEEEEEEEE are NEVAH, EVAH, EVAH road tripping togethah ... "