
An Unfortunate Road Trip
We left L’il Orphant Annie yesterday with Grandma and Grandma’s caregiver. We are on a trip up, down and up the Eastern Seaboard. Annie is no road warrior, so she got bundled up into her car carrier and driven to Forestville to stay with Grandma and her caregiver. She was mad. She was upset. She was carsick. I cleaned her up and scrubbed the car carrier. We said goodbye. We left for the long ride across New York, Rochester, Syracuse, Geneva, Utica, Amsterdam, Schenectady.
We knew that road well. We knew it the way you know a road when you have the slowest car on it, when you can’t go more than 40 miles up a hill and every truck has to pass you, when your car needs oil every 50 miles and you carry a case in the trunk of the car. We knew that road the way you know it when a little kid has to go to the bathroom, really has to go to the bathroom, HAS TO GO TO THE BATHROOM RIGHT NOW. And you stop. The door protects you and little kid as the deed is done.
We knew that road they way you know it when the snow storm hurtles its way down the straight tunnel of the highway, and the exits are far away. And we were learning it even more intimately as we crawled, 30 miles an hour, through snow getting deeper and deeper. We couldn’t see. The car could hardly manage the snow. We took the exit at Verona and found a motel.
The car was packed full. My youngest sister was in the back, with our toddler. The baby was in the front, on my lap. The trunk was packed full of Christmas presents for the big Forestville celebration. Stopping had not been the plan but it was the prudent thing to do. The motel was right by the exit. We got a room with 2 double beds, one for me and Merv and baby, one for my sister and our toddler. And then we went out for dinner. The restaurant was right across the road. The wind and snow were so strong that we could hardly see the big neon sign. I sheltered the baby under my coat. Merv did the same with the toddler. We all leaned into the wind, crossed the road, opened the door, and found, in the middle of the restaurant, a carousel! Such a contrast. One side of the door — life threatening cold and snow and wind — -other side of the door, warmth, french fries, a merry-go-round. Heaven/Hell/Heaven/Hell.
The toddler was ecstatic! More french fries! Another ride! More french fries! Another ride! Ice cream! Another ride! More ice cream! Another ride! Laughter, giggles, relief, time for crossing the road again. All bundled we crossed, the warmth and the smell of french fries still in our clothes. Toddler tucked into the bed. ‘Green Eggs and Ham’ read through 2 or 3 times. Lights out. Collapse in bed.
Then in the middle of the night a voice, quietly saying “Nancy, wake up. Wake up. He’s been sick.” He was sick! Sick like your neighbor is sick on a close packed flight and you realize you are trapped and ‘sick’ is contagious and your throat seizes up. Sick like you are on a boat and everyone else races and leans over the side and makes involuntary noises. Sick like you want to take everything within 5 feet of the event and shove it in a garbage bag and throw it away.
The sister was not used to ‘sick.’ She was not delighted with whiny, sniffly toddler saying sadly “I womited.” She was not pleased with having been sucked into the trip, the assurances that it would be fast, easy, uneventful. She was never going to do this again. She was never going to share a bed with toddler again. She was never going to get into the car again.
Merv, when asleep, notices nothing. He was dispatched to toddler’s bed. My sister reluctantly shared the other with me, with the baby. We woke up really early, and finished the last leg of the trip to sunrise and bright snow and clear driving.
I have just realized that this sister never did another car trip with us. Somehow she found that it was just not convenient. Fortunately, though, she forgave the toddler and forgave us enough to just refresh my coffee, here in Connecticut. And Judge is an excellent car traveler.