Menopausal Mother

   
 Welcome to another edition of the Fly On The Wall Series, hosted by Karen at http://www.bakinginatornado.com. That pesky fly has been busy buzzing around the 12 bloggers participating in today's group challenge. He even followed me on a recent family vacation and left with an earful. My guess is that after spending a week with us on the road, he dove into the nearest martini to drown the memory of what he witnessed during our trip:

"I've had so much coffee on this road trip, I could hang a Starbuck's sign on my bladder."

"Stop feeding the pug banana bread! It may smell good going in but it smells really bad coming out."

"Don't make me laugh so hard in the car---I have to pee!"
"Next time remind me to get plastic seat covers..."

"Too bad it rained, because I was really looking forward to zip lining over an alligator pit."

"Why are we the only people in the hotel gym with Solo cups full of champagne?"
"Because the lounge was closed. This way we can drink and burn off the calories at the same time. Oh
look! There's champagne cup holders on every treadmill!"


"Did you just fart in the pool?"
"Um...no...why?"
"Because your swim trunks are billowing out like a flotation device."

"Oh great...take the guy with no cartilage in his knees on a rocky, ten mile hike through the woods...yeah, that's my idea of a fun, family
bonding moment."

"What on earth took you so long at the gas station?"
"We were comparing penises in the restroom."

"We've had so much to drink since we've been on vacation, my liver is crying out for an AA meeting."

"Stop dropping gas bombs in the car. You smell like processed ass."
"You're the one who bought me the fried chicken tenders, Dad. They upset my stomach."
"Chicken tenders? More like chicken stinkers out the butt."

"Nothing like driving a car with a transmission that bucks you out of your seat."

"We took a wrong turn on that last trail. I think we're lost. We could be in China for all I know."
"I think we've just entered another dimension, known as the Twilight Zone."
"Or we're starring in a new movie---Paranormal: The Woods Edition"
"I told you we should have left a trail of breadcrumbs..."

"Hon, you've eaten so much on this trip, I think we need to stop at Walmart and get you some men's maternity pants."

"Stop making booger patches on your side of the car!"

"Why aren't you going inside the caves with us?"
"Because I'm probably older than most of those stalagmites. And I'm claustrophobic. I might have a heart attack. Paramedics don't respond to cave calls."
"I don't understand what caused you to be so claustrophobic."
"I got trapped inside a mole hole as a child."

"Stop using the gingerbread cookie air freshener in the bathroom to mask your poops. Next year when I smell Christmas cookies baking in the oven, I'll think of poop."

"I know its been raining a lot, but it'll pass."
"Yeah, about as quickly as a gallstone."

"It's about time you got into a pool after 15 years. This is a HUGE event...sort of like man's first visit to the moon.... one small step for Marcia,
one giant leap into the pool."

"Why did you guys sprint ahead at the park and leave me behind in an open field with lightning, rain, 50 mile per hour winds and a funnel cloud above? You knew I couldn't run the mile back to the car with my bad knees."
"It's not our fault you're the injured buffalo in the herd."
"That means you'd leave me behind to be eaten by the wolves?"
"We didn't want to get hit by lightning or sucked up in a tornado. You were moving too slow for us!"
"I was busy clicking my heels, trying to get back to Kansas."



     And this, folks, is how we vacation Doyle style. I'm off now to swat a fly and fill my Solo cup with champagne. Be sure to visit the other bloggers in today's challenge!

 
 I don't do well on long road trips. Being confined in a car for hours on end causes me to search frantically for a roadside bar. My butt becomes numb and my long legs ache from being folded up like an accordion under the dash. I fiddle with the A/C between hot flashes, causing everyone else to shiver or sweat in the backseat.
     Some of the other issues that make me want to claw my way out of the car during a long road trip include:

THE RADIO:  One minute I'm listening to Bon Jovi and digging it, then suddenly the radio station changes over in the next city and Wayne Newton is serenading me with a love ballad that makes me want to stick a fork in my eye.

SNACKING:  Long hours in the car causes terminal boredom. Boredom breeds hunger. Every five minutes I'm popping M&M's and Cheez-Its in my mouth like a cracked-out snack hoarder.

REST STOPS:  Within the first two hours of the road trip, my bladder starts knocking at the door. "Hello? Remember that grande size iced coffee you insisted on chugging down seventy miles ago? I'm not doing the camel thing here for you by storing all this liquid. Go pee!!" Murphy's Law inevitably points a finger at me and laughs by trapping me in the middle of bumper to bumper traffic on the interstate. At this point, I place my hands together in silent prayer: "Dear bladder, please don't fail me now." I'm also forced to consider using my red Solo cup for something other than it was designed for. The cup is probably cleaner than most of the highway rest stops we visit, where everyone looks like Walmart refugees. Maybe it's because we're all sporting the same, rumpled clothes and a glazed look in our eyes from white fever. The good news? I can stock up here on more snacks---a soda for five bucks, a bag of chips that expired two months ago in the vending machine or boiled peanuts from a one-armed man.

SINGING IN THE CAR:  Another hour on the road and the bored men break out singing Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" when it plays on the radio. I feel like I'm trapped on a tour bus with either The Mormon Taber"knuckle" Choir or The Vienna "Sour Note" Boy's Choir.

FAST FOOD:  Junking out on fast food while driving 80 miles per hour down the interstate is always fun, especially if nobody has any napkins on hand. Half of the food ends up in your lap and the rest of it on your greasy chin. By the time we emerge from the car at out final destination, we look like we've just played paint ball with ketchup, mustard and chocolate milkshakes.


CAR FARTS:  Eating all that crappy fast food and sitting for hours on our butts causes noxious fumes to fill the car. It's too big of a job for those little, hanging air fresheners to mask the smell. The Hubs thinks it's hilarious to crank up the heat and lock the car windows when he farts, just so he can listen to us gag and beg for mercy. I usually try to suffocate myself with a pillow when this occurs. Even worse, pug farts. Word of advice: Never, EVER let your teenager feed the dog a leftover bean burrito before
hitting the road for a long trip. Your olfactory senses will never be the same.

THE HOTEL:  I'm not sure where hotel chains purchase their pillows, but I'm betting they come from a sandbag factory. The mattresses aren't much better; they're so hard, I wake each morning folded over like an elderly man with rheumatoid arthritis.
         Four people sharing one bathroom keeps things interesting as well, especially if everyone indulged in the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet the night before. Hotel managers would be wise to install timers in each bathroom so that everyone gets their fair share of privacy on the stink throne.
        Large bath towels would also be a nice addition. No one can dry off properly from a shower with a towel the size of a dinner napkin. Foam padding needs to be added to the walls of every room so that it doesn't sound like the family upstairs is bouncing on a trampoline or a herd of elephants stampeding the hallways.

VACATION ACTIVITIES:  We spend most of our time hiking, visiting museums and fooling our stomachs into thinking we've entered a Man v.s. Food eating contest. The prize goes to the person who can no longer button their pants at the end of the trip.
 
 Hiking in an unfamiliar forest with a multitude of winding paths is not a good idea if you're codependent on a GPS. With dozens of banana spiders hanging from the trees and a gimpy husband with a bad knee, I don't feel safe getting lost in a secluded area that resembles a perfect spot for a sequel of The Blair Witch Project. It's enough to make me want to pee my pants, but I don't recommend doing that in the forest either, in case you accidentally squat over a patch of poison ivy. Try explaining THAT to your doctor.
     Museums are a great way to pass the time, mostly because they're air conditioned and I don't have to duck under banana spider webs. The downside is standing in a quiet room filled with ancient relics
when your teenager farts loud enough to shake the walls....then points a finger in your direction.
     Caves are also a fun activity to explore while on vacation, but not so
much if you're claustrophobic. Or penis-phobic. There are too many underground stalagmite areas that resemble multiple rooms of erections. It's not cool to snicker about them either, especially while your tour guide is trying to explain these rock formations to your group.
     Here's another travel tip: if the weather has been crappy all week, don't delude yourself into thinking it will pass and schedule an outing to the park. Nothing gets the heart pumping faster than being forced to run like an Olympian a mile back to the car while torrential rain is lashing at your face and dark, ominous clouds begin funneling overhead. Even more thrilling, yell, "TORNADO!!" and watch
everyone scatter like ants out of an anthill. Leave the gimpy husband behind as he does his best imitation of a peg-legged pirate limping over tree roots and rocks. It's every man for himself when a tornado is involved.

     Would I do it all again? Absolutely. Those moments of deep laughter with my family that caused our eyes to water and our bellies to ache were worth every mishap. But next time, we'll skip the bean burritos and carry a bottle of Gas-X instead.

   
My folks were always avid travelers in search of new adventures. Once the last school bell rang in June heralding the beginning of summer break, our suitcases were packed and loaded into the station wagon. When I was young, these vacations involved long road trips that led to some "interesting" experiences which I am convinced is why I need anti-anxiety medications today. These special adventures into hell included spider-infested trails through a citrus grove; sleeping on a freezing mountain top in a tar paper shack with no heat, bathroom or running water; vomiting over the side of a boat (wouldn't that be considered as homemade chum?) during a fishing trip on rough water, and sleeping by myself in the backseat of a rental car when my siblings tricked me into believing there were nuclear reactor size scorpions under my cabin bed in Zion National Park.
     Once I entered adulthood, I swore that I'd never subject myself (or my children) to these summer break horrors. But history has a way of repeating itself, so I've compiled a reminder list of 10 things I will NOT be doing this summer.

1.  Get on an airplane. Most flights from my hometown circle out over the Bermuda Triangle first. I don't want to end up on a sequel of Lost or have my picture plastered on the side of a milk carton.

2.  Fall asleep on the beach only to wake up hours later looking like the main entree at a Red Lobster restaurant.

3.  Wear all white to an outdoor barbecue party. Juicy ribs + rum runners = hot mess disaster.

4.  Get into a canoe with my daughters who are just as clueless on the water as I am. Pocahontas we are not, and I already know this tender, white meat would make great alligator bait.

5.  After a camping trip, attempt to neatly fold a double air mattress back into its original box. Fuggedaboutit. Ball that sucker up and toss it into the back of the closet.

6.  Visit a Jurassic Park exhibit with life like dinosaurs roaming the grounds. I don't want to be mistaken for a pork chop or a pu pu platter for two.

7.  Go to an outdoor Judy Collins concert just because the tickets are free. Shock therapy would be
more entertaining.

8.  Vacation at a southern resort where the mosquitoes are the size of vultures with a vampire's appetite for blood.

9.  Participate in a sea cow rodeo. That's just wrong on so many levels.


10.  Zip line over a wide canyon, especially if the cord has been recycled from an old clothes line or used dental floss.


     The next time you get extra tickets to see Neil Diamond in concert at the amphitheater or feel like riding the waves on a bucking sea cow, don't bother calling me. I'll be asleep on the beach next to a bowl of melted butter. Lobster, anyone?