Fear of Vacuums, Fear of Flight.

In just a few short days, our little family will be packing up and driving to California for our friend Cameron's wedding. Chris has already got the route mapped out and the itinerary planned and the hotels booked for our stops along the way. I have contributed to the trip by spending too much time perusing cheap, used Disney DVDs on Amazon.com- but never committing to buy any of them.

I'm sure the trip will be fine, and Ezra will be a trooper the whole way again, but this time? We're doing all the driving in TWO DAYS instead of three like we did last time. That's about 12 hours of driving each day. Oh, and by the way, have I ever mentioned here that we have a child? A toddler child? A toddler child who likes being strapped into his car seat about as much as he likes vacuum cleaners?

Confession: I have only vacuumed my house a handful of times since we've moved in. Ezra seems to think that the vacuum cleaner is a loud villainous monster whose sole purpose in life is to eat off his toes. I tried to vacuum while he slept, but it woke him up. I tried to put up the baby gate and vacuum really quickly, but he cried so hard he turned purple. So... the only time to practically vacuum is when Ezra is with Chris somewhere, but- let's face it... the last thing I'm going to do with my alone time is VACUUM. I'd much rather spend that time soaking in the tub or watching 'The Emperor's New Groove'.



Anywho, we will be on the road starting this upcoming Tuesday. We'll be gone about a week total. I'm aware that this is a quick trip considering four of the days will be spent driving, but it's much cheaper than flying the three of us anywhere, and Chris really enjoys driving long distances, so there you go. Besides, Chris and I aren't the best flyers in the world. We kind of hate it. Maybe it was from that one flight into San Luis where there was a broken air seal or something on the cabin door which caused a high pitched squealing noise the entire way- and also caused the stewardess to look like she had all but resigned herself to death as she whispered frantically into the phone on the wall and jiggled the door from time to time. That was....um, relaxing.

Or maybe it was the flight into Reno recently that turned us off from air travel. The one where the turbulence was so bad that I was forced to squeeze Chris' arm and yell, "I need help! I need help! I need help!", while the lady on his opposite side was grabbing his other arm and begging him to "make it stop! make it stop! make it stop!!"

The second I stepped off that airplane, all I could think of doing was chugging a bottle of vodka and NEVER FLYING ANYWHERE EVER AGAIN.

So, yeah! We're driving! Because somehow two days of car discomfort is much more appealing than 3 hours of plane discomfort! At least in the car there won't be any panic-stricken stewardesses. Unless you count me, of course. I'll be the one blurting out frantic driving tips and nervously tapping my foot a million miles an hour under the dash.

My poor husband...