Day 7

For those of you who wish this long trial of day-by-day, milkshake-by-milkshake recounting of our family road trip would mercifully come to an end (me, for one).... here it is, the last day of our recent trip to California...

Sunday dawned and about 3 hours later we realized it. We were staying in our friend's windowless basement and had no idea what time it was. We got on the road about 9:30 am and knew that leaving so late, we would be fighting the mountain traffic later on that evening. St. George to Denver is about 10 hours. Ten long, punishing hours. The trip is over. The fun has been had. We were on our way back home to lots of laundry and shopping for school supplies for the three middles. (Calvin, Josie and Jon started school 2 days after we got home.)

After days and days of nothing but fast food, I begged Pie to stop at Arby's for lunch. Not exactly Grandma's kitchen, but at least I could order a sandwich that looked like...a sandwich. The children cried. This is what happens when you drag 5 children around the Western United States for 7 days in the summer. They lose it when you ask them to order something so outrageous as...not chicken nuggets. And then after we ordered our food and the kids were still crying and the woman said "That will be $29.67 please" and we had only each ordered one thing for lunch and no drinks....Pie cried. But I stuck to my convictions and happily ate my $6 sandwich. Because why is it always the mom that has to suffer? I say, share the wealth!

We were through the Eisenhower tunnel by 6 pm, officially the You've-Only-Got-90-More-Minutes-Till-Home marker, when we got stuck in the 4th of July weekend traffic jam we knew we would. And then it started pouring rain. And we were in stop and go traffic for an hour. (Which is what you really hope for in a 10 hour trip. That superfluous 11th hour.) And Jon kept throwing up. Well, not really throwing up, but making a valiant effort. Lots and lots of graphic barfing noises. I gave him an empty chip bag and told him to keep his face in it. Luckily for me he never actually threw up, because that kind of thing spreads like wildfire in a car full of children and husband. Naturally, I am immune...

Well, we did it. We spent 2 days each way in transit and only 3 days actually there, but we drove to California and back in July and nothing bad happened. Our Suburban behaved better than our children, even if it was more expensive to fill, and we were able to complete many important tastings on our "Tour of Milkshakes of the West":

Sonic=Best.
In N Out=Honorable Mention.
Wendy's=Respectable.
Carl's Jr=Only better than NOT having a milkshake, but definitely the worst of the bunch.

We have planned another adventure out to Zion for Fall break. That should give us all enough time in therapy before we head out again.