Note to self: if anyone suggests another family road trip, run far, far away. It was a nightmare. A 4.5 hour car ride to California was going to be easy. Some water, some snacks, some groovy tunes shouldn't be so bad. Enter an accident involving a diesel, 7 cars, and a fire and you've got stalled traffic and utter mayhem. The trip became 10 hours of potato chips all over the backseat, kids whining about how long the rest of the ride will be, and Cynthia, sweaty and cranky, vowing never to involve herself in self torture again.
Man + wife + 2 kids + VW Beetle + sweltering heat = sweaty boobs = not a happy camper.
I suppose we tried to make the best of the rest of the trip. The hotel was nice, the pool refreshing, the restaurants yummy. But the actual day at Knott's Berry Farm was excruciating. I never thought I would appreciate the DRY heat of Vegas. It was muggy and hot and my hair was out of control. The kids were not cooperating either. They were tired and irritated and crying. Jeff could have killed them. My poor husband planned the trip according to what they wanted: somewhere they've never been there before, rollercoasters, different scenery. Little did we know that Abby only wanted to try Camp Snoopy rides (aka kiddie rides) and Jeff Jr. refused to go on most of the rollercoasters. We have foregone our own honeymoon to go on this family trip and we could have spent less money and wasted less time staying in Vegas. We've learned our lesson, believe me. Today, this is my fantasy: me receiving a relaxing massage from Sven at the Las Vegas Marriott, and Jeff and the kids on their way to Disneyland. Yes, this is my wish.