By Melia, the tired.

My girls and I left for the wedding at 8am on Friday, traveling to a magical land we’ll call Weddingshire. Dr. Nightmare, my navigator, assured me that by driving down a highway instead of an interstate, we would arrive at our dreadful destination 30 minutes earlier than driving via interstate. We weren’t in a hurry, and I fondly remembered that on former trips to Weddingshire as a child, there were all sorts of cute fruit stands, souvenir shops, etc., so it seemed like a good plan. Off we went, trusting fully in the wisdom of Dr. Nightmare.

The girls were fantastic for the first three hours. We didn’t stop, nobody had to stretch, pee, or anything. Halfway through the trip, I realized that instead of cute touristy stands on the side of the road, there was just a lot of really, really gross roadkill. I mean, these were mutilated animals that I’ve never before seen the likes of. There must be a different point value that I’m unaware of, having something to do with which parts to run over and which to leave glistening in the sun. Graphic? Yes. I want my readers to FEEL the grossness of this drive, to experience the horror with me. You’re all just lucky I didn’t take photos; there was plenty to choose from.

Not long before the first cute little “bathroom” call from the peanut gallery, there was a man on the side of the road with his thumb up. This man was wearing jeans, a white tank-top undershirt, and had white hair that he had styled in reverence to Bozo the Clown. I kept driving, even though I’ve not seen a hitchhiker in years, I’m pretty sure that he may know where many shallow graves are located.

After the first bathroom call, I asked Dr. Nightmare (he’s my GPS, by the way) where the closest food establishment was located. I don’t do drive-thru food on roadtrips, and wanted a place to sit where the girls could potentially frolic while they pretended to eat something other than sugar. Oh, yay! “Blah Blah” Family Restaurant is only five miles to the west! Perfect! We turn off the main highway, in the middle of nowhere, and start driving further into the bowels of the middle of nowhere, trying to find this restaurant. Noting the few areas on the side of the road I could have pulled into and let the girls use the potty int he car, I kept driving, completely confident in the ability of Dr. Nightmare to provide us with an oasis of food, beverage and sparkling clean bathroom facilities.

20 minutes later, the girls are at maximum pee capacity and I finally get to the “restaurant,” only its no longer a restaurant but a 10x20 room full of gifts. Its a gift shop literally in the middle of freaking nowhere. Cash only, I might add. Cute stuff, if you’re looking for a present for an obscure aunt, by the way, but not on my agenda at all. I asked the man at the counter if they had a bathroom. He said no.

Yeah, ok.

“Girls, we’ll just have to use the potty in the van out in the parking lot,” I said, loudly, hoping he would take pity on me, or would be horrified that I was going to let them pee in his parking lot (it was really a driveway, but whatever). He didn’t. Asshole.

We get back into the van, and I realize that I have an emergency of a female nature as well, like a week early. Damn stress. The girls do their thing on the potty, laughing, and I get them dressed again. Then, I have to change my own pants and other stuff while sitting in the back of the van. Luckily, I had room, but as I watched the asshole cashier man walk about 20 feet from me, I figured I was about to have the police called and be arrested for indecent exposure. He didn’t call, he didn’t even wave at me. He was just an ass.

A few minutes later, we’re back on the country road, trying to get back to the country highway and possibly find a real restaurant that has “Corporate America” written all over it. I think we ended up at Bob Evans.

The beauty of breakfast restaurants is that I can always choke down eggs (because I’m pro-choice, dammit!) and the look they give me when I first ask for a veggie patty for my burger, then the look I get when I say I don’t want any meat with my *gag* eggs. Its protein, really gross protein, but protein nonetheless and nothing died (in theory). Ok, its a bad theory, but I was hungry

So, back in the car we go, and 3 bathroom/convenience store cookie stops later, we arrive at the hotel. Whew. Unpack, head over to the Bride and Groom’s house, meet some friends from HippyMom and chill out while other people amuse my kids. I always forget what its like to have extended family until those moments. Its nice to be able to see my kids being happy, and yet not have to be on the floor with them, providing the happiness. I can drink a beer.

We hang for a while, then its time to go back to the hotel. I’m tired, the girls need sleep to be pretty Flower Girls the next day, so we go. We eventually sleep, wake up, get ready, go back to the Bride & Groom’s house, get the Bride ready, get ourselves together and head to the Wedding.

The wedding was beautiful, the weather was perfect and the ceremony was inspiring. I don’t usually recommend marriage (yes, I’m married, shush!) to anyone because of its messy legal ties, but there’s something about that moment where two people literally join their lives together that is a little, well, inspiring and hopeful. Stupid fairy tales. It made me misty until I realized that everyone was leaving the gazebo and the girls were supposed to follow them all out for photos. Oops.

Wedding is over, reception is in full swing. Pretty fairy princess flower girls are now playing in the sand and all is well. It was hot and the bodice I was wearing was pretty binding, so it came off and I ran around pretending that I was supposed to be a belly dancer at that point.

Back to Bride & Groom’s house for afterparty. Take off the rest of my costume, and I can breathe again (damn bodice!). Eat, drink, be merry… go back to hotel and pass out.

Drive home the next day, determined to take the interstate this time. Its a little rainy, but beautiful because I’m driving up into the mountains.

SCREEEEEECH!

I, Melia Lore, am terrified of heights. I avoid them like the plague. While much prettier to see than the trees on the highway I took before, holy shit, I was pretty much airborne. It started raining harder. I called The Husband to let him know we were on the say and I see a sign that says, “Crosswinds: BLAH BLAH BLAH” and then my car is pushed 200 feet toward the edge of the mountain I was driving up. “I’m going to have to call you back, I’m driving up a mountain” CLICK.

So, for the next 20 minutes, my hands are clenched on the steering wheel and I’m looking nowhere else but forward, because if I look to either side, I’m going to fall off the fucking mountain. I was in the middle lane, by the way, but there was only 50 feet on either side of me saving me from plunging to my death. It was raining, the CROSSWINDS were trying to kill me. There isn’t much that scares me, but that scenario is right up there.Ugh.

Obviously, we made it out of there. I turned on my iPod and listened to music until after our 90 minute “quick” lunch at Cracker Barrel. For some reason, I never remember that I hate Cracker Barrel until we’re already in there sitting at the table. Even the 45 minute wait to get a table didn’t clue me in (noon on Sunday, what the hell was I thinking??). More eggs, more candy and an hour and a half later, we’re out of there.

A rant, because its been a while…

Are they twins? Yes, everyone, they are twins. Its been 3.5 years since they were born, and really, stop asking. Go ahead and assume they’re twins. I understand that as babies, its a novelty to discuss how maternal twins are passed down on the dad’s side, but identical twins are all on the mom (YOU PEOPLE ARE SO WRONG!!) but really, take pity on the woman who just wants to leave and don’t engage her with your stories of how you always/never wanted twins or how your uncle’s neighbor’s cat’s former owner thought she was having triplets and it turned out to just be gas. I just don’t give a rat’s ass and my twins think that you’re stupid, too. They don’t know they’re twins, they could care even less than I do. They just want to watch Backyardigans and zone out with their latest supply of sugar. Buh-bye.

Ahem.

We’re home now. I passed out at 7pm, woke up, watched the Survivor finale, crunched ice, ate doritos and olives, took a well-deserved happy pill and passed out again until this morning. Somehow, through the magic of The Husband, the kids all went to bed and woke up in one piece.

In honor of the happy couple, I present, the song of the week!!