The American Family Roadtrip

It's been awhile since I've signed in. A lot going on in my life. I wrote this over my summer vacation in California. The length should make up for a couple entries.

The day started off with such promise. The sky was blue (not something Portlanders take for granted.), we had been camping amid the quiet splendor of the Redwood Forest, and it was a Monday and I was not sitting in some God awful meeting, like normal, doodling and contemplating the varius ways I could excuse myself without being noticed. "Numb Butt Mondays," we call them....

We packed the car after breakfast and headed out for Mendocino, California, to experience the beach and inhale the smells of the salty ocean air mixed with the pungent aroma of Eucyalyptus. It was to be a mere two hour drive. A stroll, really, compared to our big drive from Portland only two days prior.

I turned off Hwy 101 at Garberville for the coast. The sign read, “Fort Bragg,” and my GPS, Stella, was commanding me (because that is her nature) to “Turn right, here. Turn right here!” Maybe it's my imagination, but it seems like Stella loses her patience with me if I neglect to follow her instructions implicitly and without question. She is too assertive, hence her name. I imagine the day when she barks out, “NO, stupid. Turn right, I said. Now you've mucked it all up. Can't you follow a simple command?” Ah, but I digress...

The road less traveled is not always the wisest, dear poet. It was as twisted and unforgiving as an anaconda's. Being of a sound mind and a weak stomach, I turned around after 15 miles, frustrated and cursing my error. How stupid of me, I thought. I never took this road 'back in the day.' I always went to Willits and headed over from there. “I'm not doing this,” I said with alarming authority. But it was too late. The damage had been done. We were almost, and I mean almost off this cursed road when Marcus exclaimed, “I'm having a heart attack!”

Marcus is four. Very articulate, and very expressive. Okay, we'll use the word, dramatic.

“Mommy, I'm having a heart attack. I want the movie off.”

My wife is thinking that he's being dramatic to have his way and change the movie. But, being the good mother that she is, she checks in with him.

“What hurts dear? What's the problem?”

“My stomach.”

Now I get motion sickness as I alluded to earlier. I can't fly in small planes, ride the Tea Cups at Disneyland, or go on the ocean. In fact, I always drive on long trips because I won't be driven and get sick. No sir. So, I follow this four-year-old description of something that has never happened to him “I'm having a heart attack,” and pull over the car.

We pulled over every few minutes for awhile. He didn't throw up, but he was nautious and coughing up spit. Finally, I stood outside with him for a good fifteen minutes while his stomach settled down. We finally made it to Willits for lunch. We took a nice long lunch and allowed his stomach to return to normal. It was a wonderful lunch. A 57 dollar lunch, but a wonderful lunch, nonetheless.

Soon we packed into the car once again and took off for the coast – this time on Hwy 20 from Willits to Fort Bragg. Awesome... or so I thought....

Turns out that Hwy 20, while better than the other road, is still very curvy. Curvy like a woman, curvy, not twisty like a snake.

This road was a serious road with serious drivers. People drive fast on this road. It's actually a driving course for middle-aged wannabe Mario Andredes. It calls out Macho. Only competent men with manly driving ability are allowed. All others are cursed and forced over to the turn outs in shame. Not wanting to risk hurting my manly pride, I drove with skill. I drove over the speed limit. If the sign read 20 mph around the curves, I took them at 30, just to prove to them that I belonged. Still, however, I had 3 cars close behind me. The pressure was mounting. I couldn't pull over so soon. The shame would be too much for my fragile male ego. I kept going.

And then it happened...

“Mommy I want the movie off.”

“Marcus, we just turned this one on. Maybe sis can forward this part.”

“I feel like I'm having a heart attack again.”

There is nothing worse on a family drive that a child throwing up in the car. I suppose it's some character of the American experience. The family vacation, driving across the fruited plains and the purple mountain majesties with the kids arguing and crying and throwing up. Anyway, I wasn't about to succomb to this rite of passage. I pulled over fast.

I no sooner turned around to see how he was doing when the first milky substance dribbled out of his mouth. “Oh my God,” I exclaimed, get something, quick!”

Jen picked up a towel and kind of brought it up to his mouth. And then the dribble turned into projectile. His head spun around and his little brown eyes rolled back into his head like a sharks, and he sheetrocked the towel. Then, for some reason I'm still not sure why, Jen took away the towel. Then he threw up over the car.

“Jesus, Jen. Now look what he did!”

“Why don't you stop being critical and do something!”

“What do you want me to do!”

As we were screaming at each other, Anneliese, who has serious germ issues and a real fear of throwing up, starts screaming, “I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared.” Meanwhile Marcus is vomiting and Nate, our oldest, is completely oblivious and says, “Hey I wrote this poem about a bird. Do you want to hear it?”

Ah yes...one for the annals of parenthood.

It ended on a good note, though. We eventually made it to the beach (Marcus fell asleep). The kids played, the day was beautiful, and we went out to eat at a wonderful restaurant.

Joe Neighbor

My four-year-old was standing by the window upstairs looking over at the neighbor's yard. He yelled out, "Hello," and received a "hello" back.

My wife called out to him, "Who are you talking to?"

"Oh, just Joe neighbor."

Now we jokingly always say, "Hi Joe Neighbor!" to one another. The neighbor's got a real kick out of that one.

A Fish Takes A Nap

The fish bowl was dirty, so I told my son that it needed to be cleaned out soon. The next mornng, his mother helped him clean it, and later that afternoon, my son fed the fish and came downstairs to talk to his mother. She said, "What have you been up to?"

"I just fed my fish, but he's taking a nap."

"A nap?"

"Ya, he's sleeping."

(pause) "How do you know he's sleeping?"

"He's lying on his side."

"Um....dear.... I think your fish might be dead."

"No, I just saw him swimming earlier today."

"Did you see him eat?"

"Well, no..."

The fish was given a buriel at sea ten minutes later. My three children, with drawn faces, watched in quiet as the fish was dumped into the toilet and flushed. Death is never an easy concept, even when it involves a fish.

Haircut observations

"The person who cuts your hair gives you squiggly hair," declares Marcus.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. and he gives me handsome hair."

PAUSE

"And he gives Nate thick hair."

"Yes, I believe you're right," say I.

Accidentpurpose

"Sometimes I do things on accidentpurpose," said Marcus.

"Accidentpurpose? Do you mean by accident, or on purpose?" I asked.

"I mean by accidentpurpose. It's not by accident and it's not on purpose. It's both."

"Oh, I see..."

"But you can't get arrested...right, Dad?"

"No, I wouldn't think so..."

scusemenoproblem

I wouldn't normally write on the topic of...well, "breaking wind." Not the typical blog entry or conversation starter. But in this case, I'm compelled to dedicate a brief couple lines to the topic.

I happen to love the age of four. It's one of my favorites. Each of my three children, after they have turned four, have been a constant source of laughter and entertainment. Parenting is hard work, as anyone with a child can relate, but the words and phrases that come from their mouths at this age are priceless and make the whole parenting gig worthwhile.

Seeing the world through a young child's eyes is refreshing and life-affirming, and my youngest always delivers. His current phrase is, "scusemenoproblem"(Excuse me no problem). Every time the child's bottom speaks, he reply's in a low monotone voice, "scusemenoproblem." If in fact, his bottom happens to speak in succession, M will reply, "scusemenoproblem, scusemenoproblem, scusemenoproblem." Of course, I must tell you, that now the whole family has adopted, scusemenoproblem.

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to feed your children healthy, nutritious food? Having just read, In Defense of Food, and watched, Food Inc., I can tell you it's downright hard, if not nearly impossible. I highly recommend both the book and the movie to all who want to become educated about the food that goes into their bodies. It's very disturbing.

As a result of reading Michael Pollen's, In Defense of Food, Jen and I have changed the way we eat and shop at the store. If, for example, bread isn't made with four ingredients, we don't buy it. We basically shop on the peripherial of the store and avoid the middle aisles, if at all possible. No, we haven't become militant about it. I still like my Doritos or an Oreo every so often. But we are much more careful about what we offer our children and what we put into our own bodies. 1 in 3 children born after 2000 will develop type 2 diabetes. The amount of sugar and high fructose corn syrup going into our kids bodies is off the charts. It pays to be educated and not a victim to the four corporations that control all of the food in this country.

One final note: As someone who loves food, taking some time to prepare fresh, flavorable food, and making time to sit down as a family and share that meal together is what it's all about. Long live delicious, healthy food, quality chocolate, and a fine wine!