I made two disconcerting discoveries so far on this trip.
1. I don't like driving in a car with two children and a dog.
2. I have long nose hairs.
And honestly, I think the long nose hair revelation is worse. I mean, how shitty of a deal can women get? Push the kid out of the vagina, breastfeed until the boobs look like demented pancakces, and then long nose hairs.
I'm blaming the damn bathroom mirror with those bright flourescent lights that are the bane of every mom's existence. I thought I had done a fabulous job plucking and tweezing but low and behold, I'm a fucking hairy beast according to the LaQuinta Inn. And I have long nose hairs.
But really, what do they know? They serve microwaveable sausage sandwiches in a bag, for crissakes.
I ate 4.
So me, my long nose hairs, and two kids have made it about half way. It doesn't help that it's 4503 degrees outside. And apparently my baby doesn't like to nurse in a sling in hell-like temperatures. Thus led me to hand express milk into a sippy cup at several rest stops in Virginia.
Hellooooo Virginia. Me and my milky boob salute you.
I even tried the evil formula.
He spit it out.
Who knew Cynical Dad was a black market dealer in princess crowns.
Of course we travel with princess costumes! Don't you?
Needless to say, we're off to our final destination. Here's hoping to a speedy arrival, a son who will eat something, and nose hair trimmers.
There's nothing like Atlanta rush hour to put the cherry on top of a heinously long trip. But we're here. With no soap. And no window treatments.
Hello neighbors. My ass is happy to meet you.
Cripes. I didn't know how much I missed seeing the big yellow Waffle House signs.
The house that I had yet to have seen in person is fantastic. But let's be honest. When you live with your in-laws for almost a year, there's no room to be picky.
So I had an orgasm on the bathroom floor when I saw the his and her vanities.
We live next to a bi-racial couple with three children including one wee baby (hooray for diversity, extra hooray for diverse people who nurse!). I enjoyed a 24 oz can of Coors Light (hey, it's the South people) on my huge living room floor and enjoyed the quiet.
But then my kid kept waking up every four seconds to eat since he didn't like to eat in South Carolina.
So much for quiet.
So now we have to move all our shit into it. Perfect time to call "parenting duty" and head to the pool, don't you think?