The Vacation That Wasn't

Do you ever feel like you should be the star of the next National Lampoon Vacation movie? I never did - until this past week.

Hubby and I had planned to take the hobbitses to Seattle for four days of fun and touristy things, and we were all prepped; sandwiches were made for a picnic lunch, the van was packed the night before, and I had gone over the master list of what to take at least three times. The day before our trip, we had the oil changed on the van, ran it through AirCare and renewed the insurance. While at the insurance place, we took the added steps of getting travel insurance and paying for roadside assistance. Little did we know how that last item would come in handy.

Morning broke on Tuesday, and we got everyone up, dressed, fed and into the van. The "10 minute wait" at the border was actually 75 minutes, so we were a bit behind schedule, but we could still salvage the day. We stopped in Bellingham for groceries and super-cheap gas (our rewards card allowed us to save a further 30¢ per gallon on an already good price - it worked out to something like 87¢ per litre). We hopped back on the I-5 and continued on our merry way. The sun was shining and everyone was happy to be heading down on vacation. We were talking about our first stop of the day, the Museum of Flight, which Primus and Secunda had been to before with their grandparents. There was a lull in the conversation around the time we passed Burlington, WA, home of outlet shopping and auto malls.

I'd just put on one of my "feel good" CDs, and was enjoying my favourite song on it when I began to hear a very worrisome noise coming from under the hood. I quietly alerted Hubby, and as we grew more worried, we asked the hobbitses to keep quiet and turned off the stereo. We were now in that "no-man's land" that only seems to occur on US highways; the long stretch of nothing between towns. The noise started getting worse, so I silently began praying that we could limp the van to some form of civilization before our vehicle died - because it was making those awful dying sounds that make cash registers go KA-CHING. That's when I saw the tall 76 sign. I pulled off in La Conner and we two non-mechanical types tried to figure out what the heck was wrong with our van. All we knew was that running the engine was a Very Bad Idea. Thinking it may be the transmission, we bought some horrendously overpriced fluid and put it in the van, but the sound was still there. So the two of us sat at a picnic table while the hobbitses quietly read or talked in the van, and we tried to figure out what we were going to do.

Another customer came by and, bless his heart, he asked what the trouble was. We told him, and he asked us to fire the van up. He almost immediately told us to cut it, and said, "Now, I'm not a mechanic. But my uncle is and I worked in his shop quite a bit when I was in my teens. That's your engine." I felt just sick to my stomach. That's a very expensive thing to fix. Then this darling man gave us information on where the nearest dealership for our vehicle's make was, and we called Hubby's dad to figure out our next step.

Oh, the roaming charges we paid! But we sorted out that this vacation was not likely to happen today. The van would need repair. Calls were made to the dealership and a tow truck, and after another 20 minute wait or so, we were installing car seats in a courtesy shuttle and heading back to Burlington.

The dealership there was incredible; they offered us the use of their customer lounge until closing, which was the earliest that Hubby's dad could get down to retrieve us. They took a quick look at the van and were able to determine that we had thrown a rod in the engine - a death knell for any engine. So, I called the hotel with just enough time to cancel our reservation without incurring costs, and we prepared ourselves for having to spend our vacation fund on getting a new-to-us vehicle.

$3850.00. That was the best deal they could find on a rebuilt engine. Put that up to $5000.00 if we wanted new. Another quick call to Hubby's dad and we knew that this van was very likely going to be staying in Burlington. The staff were so kind; not only did they let us take over their lounge, but they made sure we were comfortable, allowed us to have their free coffee, made sure we knew where the washrooms were, and checked in on us every hour or so. We let them know that we'd have a final answer for them the next day.

We had our packed lunches, we had snacks and activities for the kids, so the time passed pretty easily for them.  At about 15 minutes shy of closing time, we had the kids help us tidy up the area we were occupying, and, as per SCA guidelines, we left it cleaner than we had found it. Everyone used the bathroom one last time, and we headed out into the muggy air to wait for Hubby's dad. We didn't have long to wait; he arrived about 5 minutes later. We unloaded *everything* from the van and drove back to Mom and Dad's place.

Dad and I drove back down to Burlington the next morning, and after letting them know that the van wasn't worth the investment, I signed over the van to a tow truck driver who contracts with the dealership. With that done, we then spent the next few days having a "staycation", enjoying Mom and Dad's hospitality, and doing things like going to the beach, making use of our Science World membership, and treating Mom and Dad to dinner at Montana's. Oh, and did I mention that they bought themselves a new van and sold their "old" one to us? Yeah, so we got a newer, more reliable vehicle for our family out of this whole mess.

So it turned out to be not too awful after all :)

Chirping Crickets

It's amazing to me how many things fall by the wayside when one is planning a vacation.

Now, I've been doing laundry like a maniac, the kitchen has not been this clean in quite some time (thanks largely to my mother-in-love for helping to maintain that yesterday), and the bags are almost completely packed in anticipation of our departure tomorrow morning. But in the whirlwind of planning, booking hotels, sorting out itineraries and packing, this blog kind of got lost in the shuffle. And what is the purpose of this blog, if not to chronicle some of these happenings?

So, dear readers, I will endeavor to give you a travel diary whilst we are on vacation. Thanks to the magic of technology (and free wi-fi), I should be able to post something on each of the four days of our vacation. Stay tuned for the riveting adventures of Busy Little Bee!!!!

Scary Movie

We were spending a lazy Saturday at home and discovered that we were more flush than we thought. Hubby had the idea to go catch Monsters University, so we approached Tertius and Quarta with the notion. You'd have thought we suggested an exciting trip to visit the Spanish Inquisition, complete with torture sessions! Tertius was convinced that it was going to be scary and loud, so we sat them down to watch the trailers, but he remained unconvinced. Of course, this set off Quarta and she jumped on the bandwagon, insisting that it was too scary. I was at the point of just forgetting the whole adventure, but Hubby insisted, and I'm so glad he did; after a tense few minutes where Quarta just HAD to sit on my lap (thank goodness the theatre is air-conditioned) and Tertius clung to Hubby like a baby orangutan, they both relaxed and thoroughly enjoyed the movie. By the end credits, Tertius was dancing to the music and hopping up and down with delight.

Have any of you experienced this phenomenon where something that should really appeal to your young child fills them with fear instead?

Anniversary Musings

Six years ago at this time, I was collapsed in my bed after a ridiculously long day of working the graveyard shift on security, followed by a full day's security instruction (BST training), then SCA archery practice. Six years ago, I had had to field a call from the man I was no longer dating and hung up on him when he tried to read me the riot act for not getting enough sleep. Honestly, I knew I hadn't gotten enough sleep, I didn't need Captain Obvious to point it out to me; he'd broken up with me (when I caught him out for cheating on me) 2 months prior, so he really had no right to say anything, and he should have known that saying it to a sleep-deprived woman holding a longbow was a dangerous thing to do. Six years ago, I was pondering swearing off men for a while. And six years ago, wheels were being set into motion that I hadn't the slightest clue about, that would lead me to the life I always wanted to have.

I was damaged goods; a mother of two small children, separated from her husband for five months and feeling like I would need to resign myself to a life of raising my children without a thought to a life for myself, of romance, passion or utter contentment. I was profoundly sad at the failure of my marriage, the spectacular crash-and-burn of my first attempt at dating post-marriage, and I was trying to carve out a living for me and my kids that would allow us to maybe move out of my parents' home one day. I had gone on a very nice and promising first date with a gentleman, but he was only in town for the summer, so I wasn't really holding my breath. The fact that he didn't call for days afterwards didn't give me any cause to feel optimistic, either.

But I had done something different that night. Instead of just fuming to myself about the idiot, I went to my friend Lizz and vented. And that one small thing set off a chain reaction of events that led me to where I am today.

Because six years ago at this time, the love of my life was talking to Lizz online. He casually mentioned his own difficulties meeting someone, and it triggered a thought in Lizz's mind, which led her to say, "You should meet a friend of mine."

And six years ago at this time, he was writing the first of innumerable emails that would mark the beginning of our life together, a life full of love, passion and utter contentment. A life full of children, of chaos, of dishes and laundry and messy rooms; a life that I had always dreamed of. That we named our youngest child in her honour is but a tiny token of the love and esteem we feel for Lizz for her hand in this, for being the vessel through which God's plan was revealed to both of us.

Six years ago at this time is when I feel like my life really started. The rest was all a warm-up.

Five years ago at this moment, I was sewing Swarovski crystals onto the bodice of my wedding gown, too excited to sleep. I was gathering up the accessories that I would wear the next day when Hubby's father joined us as husband and wife. I was writing in a card serving a dual purpose - both anniversary and wedding day card - and hoping that I didn't trip over my own feet walking down the aisle.

It hardly seems that 6 years have passed since we met, that 5 years have passed since we married. But when we take the time to look at how our children have grown (and multiplied!), we can mark the years a little easier. This - this life - is what I dreamed of as a young girl. Married to a wonderful, intelligent, caring man and raising four children, two boys, two girls. It is everything I ever wanted, and more.

Happy anniversary, my love.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

So, I woke up at 6:40 this morning, leg and foot cramping in unison. This has become a daily thing for me. I've increased my water intake, upped my potassium, calcium and magnesium through diet and supplements, and I'm still startled awake by it.  I think it might be time to talk to the doctor about it again, but I'm open to hearing your non-medicinal (drugs, mainly) remedies. What I'm looking for is a way to avoid the leg cramps entirely, not just get rid of them once they've jarred me awake.

Anyway, since I was awake, and that usually means up for the day, I went downstairs to get underwear out of the dryer for Hubby, then saw two of his favourite "church shirts" needed ironing, so I got that done, too. Hauled his nice shorts out of the dryer, folded a couple of things for myself and brought it all upstairs. I switched the nightgown for clothes and farted around on Facebook until the muse spoke to me. So here I am, putting out my stream-of-consciousness for the day.

While trying to come up with a title for today's entry, I hit upon this song title from what I seem to recall as the 70s - by the Commodores (back when Lionel Ritchie was steering that boat). It occurred to me that while I had enjoyed the song in the past, I really didn't know all of the words, so a quick online search provided what I was looking for, and upon reading them, I realised that this gentle, catchy tune was actually a break-up song. Now, I don't know about you, but the break-ups in my life have never been as laissez-faire as this song makes it out to be; more to the point, they were either tear-filled, angst-ridden, or done with a sense of resignation or defeat. I never had a, "Well, I've done what I can, and it's not what I wanted, so I'm out of here" kind of break-up. Some may argue that this is precisely how my first marriage ended, and on its surface, it may have looked that way. But in reality, I spent several years privately agonising and trying to make things better, and when that didn't work, I made stupid mistakes that made things worse. I was a coward, and it took me two years from the point that I knew my marriage was over until something finally happened to bring it to its conclusion. Even then, I didn't have the courage to do it - the credit for that goes to BD.

In retrospect, it was the right decision for both of us, as we are clearly happier with other people, and we can co-parent as best as most people, and better than some. We're not perfect - but we're still figuring that out as we go along and things happen to create new normals for us all. While the marriage wasn't the right thing for the two of us in the end, we did two things very right, indeed. Primus and Secunda are two of the best things I've ever done in my life, and I would go through it all again if it meant that they were in my world.

 Enough rambling for now. It's time to wake up the house and get ready for church - have a wonderful Sunday, everyone.

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'Easy Like Sunday Morning' by The Commodores (just in case you don't know the words like me)

Know it sounds funny but I just can't stand the pain
Girl, I'm leaving you tomorrow
Seems to me girl, you know I've done all I can
You see I begged, stole and I borrowed, yeah

Ooh, that's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning
That's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning

Why in the world would anybody put chains on me?
I've paid my dues to make it
Everybody wants me to be, what they want me to be
I'm not happy when I try to fake it, no

Ooh, that's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning
That's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning

I wanna be high, so high
I wanna be free to know
The things I do are right
I wanna be free, just me, babe

That's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning
That's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning

Because I'm easy
Easy like Sunday morning
Because I'm easy
Easy like Sunday morning

Calling Their Bluff

The room that Tertius and Quarta share is a mess. As in the "if I have to impale myself ONE more time on your Lego, I'm going to go stark raving mad" kind of messy. It is a daily struggle for me to just keep them from dragging their toys out into the living room - my space! - and to get them to pick up enough that I'm not taking my life into my hands when I go in there. Today is no exception to the rule. When they get dressed, they pull out clothes, decide what to wear, and leave the rejected items all wherever they threw them. When they are finished playing with a toy, they move on to the next one, leaving the abandoned toy where it lay. I think I've painted a pretty accurate picture, but I think I may need to give you some photographic evidence.

Not too pretty. Even the path I had carved out for my safety last night is strewn with caltrops Lego for my "enjoyment".

So, when he and his sister dragged his Thomas toys out into the living room, I decided it was room-cleaning time. I told them that if their room was too messy to play in, it was time to clean it up, marched them into their room, and gave them each a task. I returned to the kitchen table to resume my "to do" list. Not two minutes later, Secunda comes up to me and says that Tertius claims that he's too tired to clean.

So I called his bluff.

I went into the room and asked him if he was too tired to clean. He said he was, so I told him to climb up into his bunk and have a nap. I'd set the alarm for an hour, at which point I'd wake him to clean. He grudgingly went up, complaining with each step on the ladder, but he knew I'd caught him. Thrice they tried to sneak out of their room, and thrice they were sent back into it and offered the option to clean or sleep. 20 minutes in, Tertius finally succumbed to his pillow and blanket, but Quarta is proving more resistant, but at least she is quietly laying on her tummy in her bunk.

I will win this battle.

iWastetime

So, I got an iPhone 4.

It was a good deal, free (phone's cost put on a tab, which gets paid off with monthly payments), and no contract, which was my big rule. It's also cheaper than the pay-as-you-go jobbie I was using. I wanted to be able to call, text, take pictures and maybe put a couple of apps on it to occupy the kids in line-ups.

And then I downloaded Gardens of Time.

I made the mistake of downloading a hidden object game for myself. Now the kids beg me to play on my phone, and I hide in the bathroom playing it, checking on its status several times a day. Maye I should just remove the app so I don't have all of my time sucked up. I don't want to become one of those people that stares at their phone over plugging into their family.