Here is an excerpt from my humorous memoir, A Dead Tomato Plant and a Paycheck, which is now under consideration by a publisher. The book is a compilation of columns I wrote when my kids were young and I figured if I found a way to laugh at our foibles, maybe I would survive.
Once all the kids were in school full time, summer time took on a whole new dimension. When they were all little and underfoot, seasons streamed one into the other without much impact on family life. We continued doing what we always do, just changed clothes to suit the weather.
That all changed when the kids were all gone for most of the day during the school year, then suddenly, summertime came and there they all were, cluttering up the house. Every last one of them. Every day. All day.
Often, as the end of the school year drew near and I looked ahead to the days of summer vacation stretching endlessly before me, I had a feeling of impending doom. Maybe that was because we usually failed miserably on the first day of summer vacations. Sort of like time trials in car racing. If you make it through without a mishap, you've got a chance at the race.
I would barely make it through the first two hours of:
"I've been waiting all winter to watch this show. You can watch your dumb show tomorrow."
"That's not fair! You can't watch TV anyway. You didn't do your work."
"What are you? The resident policeman?"
"I'm just trying to help. Keep things running smoothly so Mom won't get upset."
Meanwhile I was in the other room suffering from terminal motherhood, expecting all the fuses to blow any second. I had visions of that kid walking through the entire summer in a black and white striped shirt with a whistle in his mouth.
Maybe I should have just let him have a go at it.
As the fight over the TV would increase in tempo and volume, I would have definite impulses to do violence of some sort. And just in case that went beyond the impulse state, I had a defense plan prepared. By reasons of insanity: "Your Honor, no one in their right mind would ever throw a toaster at their own television without provocation."
Things went steadily downhill from there, and I questioned whether I would make it another day. Already I had laryngitis and I think I ruptured something in my throat. God wouldn't do this to me, would He? He wouldn't expect me to stumble through the summer without a voice to yell with?
I might have made it through that first day by sheer force of determination, if it hadn't been for this little kid who kept following me around asking me when we were leaving on summer vacation.
"We are on summer vacation!"
"No we're not! Vacation is going somewhere, and we're not going anywhere."
I wonder if a one way ticket on the next space shuttle fits the criteria of "going somewhere?"
Showing posts with label family vacations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family vacations. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Let the Adventures Begin
Today's post is from Tracy Farr. He has a twisted sense of humor to say the least. When he first started writing a column for me at WinnsboroToday.com, his blog was related to a fictional town, Stinky Creek, Texas. Then he started another blog at TracyFarr.net. His latest is School Bus Cowboy and it has the best of all of his writing. If you visit his blog, be sure to read his May 16th post about breakfast cereal. Enjoy....
Just the other night as I was driving home from Dallas, an SUV zoomed past me and I could see the kids sitting in the backseat watching a video. “Wall-E” it was – right there in the backseat. So since I’d never seen the movie, I sped up and stayed right on their bumper to watch it. It wasn’t quite as relaxing as a drive-in theater, but sometimes you have to take what you can get.
The movie wasn’t half bad (even without sound), but when it was over, I started feeling sorry for those kids, as well as all the other kids of today. They’re not near as lucky as we were when we were kids. Kids of today never go anywhere without a hand-held video game or a stack of movies. And it doesn’t matter if they’re driving to Washington to visit the Smithsonian or they’re going down the street to Wal-Mart. See kid. See car. See kid get in car. See kid in car watching “Wall-E.” See parents thankful their kid is quiet for two hours.
When we were kids, we didn’t have such things as video games and DVD players and cell phones and text messaging. Nosirree! We had it much better. We had comic books and Etch-A-Sketch and portable chess games and maps so we’d know where we were. And if we got tired of all those luxuries, we made up games like “Count The Road Kill Between Towns” or “Stare Your Brother Down Until He Punches You In The Gut.”
Ah, yes. Those were the days.
My favorite long-trip activity was to follow our route on a map, marking off the towns as we passed them by. I’d say, “We’re coming up on Childress. Only 509 more miles till we get to Wolf Creek Pass.” And when we got to the other side of Childress I’d say, “That was Childress. Next town is Memphis. Only 506 miles to Wolf Creek Pass.”
I’d do my little human GPS thing until my Dad would say, “I’m coming up on a Truck Stop. You mention how many more miles we have left to Wolf Creek Pass and I’m leaving you there.”
Kids these days don’t care about maps. They don’t appreciate the joys of unfolding a new one, trying to follow along from town to town, and then trying to fold the map back exactly the way it came – which, by the way, requires an engineering degree to do.
Maps are a part of our American legacy. Our Founding Fathers came to this country using maps; they founded Virginia using maps; they went west and discovered Hollywood, Rodeo Drive and Big Screen TVs using maps. Of course, those maps were not folded – they were rolled up. Trying to fold a map back then would have taken precious time away from exploring the “New World.” And that sense of exploration is what is missing when our kids watch “Power Rangers” instead of counting the utility poles between Wichita Falls and Amarillo. (“Count The Utility Poles” was another fun activity our parents challenged us to do)
When we were kids, parents were much more inventive and creative than the parents of today. They had to make up things to do, tell stories, challenge kids at who could be the quietest the longest, and a whole lot of other fun-loving trip activities. Parents had to think on their feet, they had to manage crises on the go, they had to be sneaky, inventive, and resourceful.
Parents of today are taking the easy way out of traveling when they say, “Put in another video.” Those parents are actually sending a message to their children that it’s better to interact with Disney instead of with the people and world around them. Well, I say instead of letting Little Johnny watch “The Lion King,” let him count the buzzards that are circling that dead cow out in the middle of the pasture between Amarillo and Dumas. Let him experience the “Circle of Life” up close and personal – and in extreme high definition.
So the next time you go on a trip, whether it be to Branson, Missouri or the K-Mart down the street, I dare you – I triple-dog dare you – to leave the DVDs and the video games at home and come up with something to do on your own. Flex those little grey cells up there in that noggin of yours. When you do, that’s when the true adventures will really begin.
Just the other night as I was driving home from Dallas, an SUV zoomed past me and I could see the kids sitting in the backseat watching a video. “Wall-E” it was – right there in the backseat. So since I’d never seen the movie, I sped up and stayed right on their bumper to watch it. It wasn’t quite as relaxing as a drive-in theater, but sometimes you have to take what you can get.
The movie wasn’t half bad (even without sound), but when it was over, I started feeling sorry for those kids, as well as all the other kids of today. They’re not near as lucky as we were when we were kids. Kids of today never go anywhere without a hand-held video game or a stack of movies. And it doesn’t matter if they’re driving to Washington to visit the Smithsonian or they’re going down the street to Wal-Mart. See kid. See car. See kid get in car. See kid in car watching “Wall-E.” See parents thankful their kid is quiet for two hours.
When we were kids, we didn’t have such things as video games and DVD players and cell phones and text messaging. Nosirree! We had it much better. We had comic books and Etch-A-Sketch and portable chess games and maps so we’d know where we were. And if we got tired of all those luxuries, we made up games like “Count The Road Kill Between Towns” or “Stare Your Brother Down Until He Punches You In The Gut.”
Ah, yes. Those were the days.
My favorite long-trip activity was to follow our route on a map, marking off the towns as we passed them by. I’d say, “We’re coming up on Childress. Only 509 more miles till we get to Wolf Creek Pass.” And when we got to the other side of Childress I’d say, “That was Childress. Next town is Memphis. Only 506 miles to Wolf Creek Pass.”
I’d do my little human GPS thing until my Dad would say, “I’m coming up on a Truck Stop. You mention how many more miles we have left to Wolf Creek Pass and I’m leaving you there.”
Kids these days don’t care about maps. They don’t appreciate the joys of unfolding a new one, trying to follow along from town to town, and then trying to fold the map back exactly the way it came – which, by the way, requires an engineering degree to do.
Maps are a part of our American legacy. Our Founding Fathers came to this country using maps; they founded Virginia using maps; they went west and discovered Hollywood, Rodeo Drive and Big Screen TVs using maps. Of course, those maps were not folded – they were rolled up. Trying to fold a map back then would have taken precious time away from exploring the “New World.” And that sense of exploration is what is missing when our kids watch “Power Rangers” instead of counting the utility poles between Wichita Falls and Amarillo. (“Count The Utility Poles” was another fun activity our parents challenged us to do)
When we were kids, parents were much more inventive and creative than the parents of today. They had to make up things to do, tell stories, challenge kids at who could be the quietest the longest, and a whole lot of other fun-loving trip activities. Parents had to think on their feet, they had to manage crises on the go, they had to be sneaky, inventive, and resourceful.
Parents of today are taking the easy way out of traveling when they say, “Put in another video.” Those parents are actually sending a message to their children that it’s better to interact with Disney instead of with the people and world around them. Well, I say instead of letting Little Johnny watch “The Lion King,” let him count the buzzards that are circling that dead cow out in the middle of the pasture between Amarillo and Dumas. Let him experience the “Circle of Life” up close and personal – and in extreme high definition.
So the next time you go on a trip, whether it be to Branson, Missouri or the K-Mart down the street, I dare you – I triple-dog dare you – to leave the DVDs and the video games at home and come up with something to do on your own. Flex those little grey cells up there in that noggin of yours. When you do, that’s when the true adventures will really begin.
Friday, July 17, 2009
More From the Road Trip
Back in June I started posting excerpts from my new book and this latest installment is a continuation of the chapter dealing with one of our our family vacations. To read what precedes this click HERE
Everything was peaceful for an hour or so, then the kids started squabbling, which soon deteriorated into full fledged fighting, and parts of the car bingo game were flying around the back of the van. Danielle refused to take a nap, no matter how hard we tried to get her to lie down, so I went to the back of the van to keep game parts from hitting the back of Carl’s head. The twins took that as an open invitation to use me for a trampoline, so considering the noise, the jumping, and the crushed Cheetos all over the mattress, I quickly retreated to the front seat, leaving the mess with the kids.
By lunch time, we were all more than ready to stop for awhile to see if we could straighten our cramped bodies from the sitting position to a standing one. But somehow the kids weren’t nearly as anxious to run around and make noise as they had been in the van. In fact, meal times were the only real quiet times of the whole trip.
When we pulled into another rest area for supper, it was an instant replay of the lunch break. The kids sat quietly at the picnic table, ignoring all the grass that just called for little feet to scamper all over it.
After we finished eating, we tried to get everyone to get one last drink, and go potty so we wouldn’t have to stop again for awhile. No matter haw hard we tried to avoid frequent stops, nobody had to go potty when we needed gas, but fifteen minutes later one of them simply wouldn’t be able to wait another second.
We made two quick stops between six and ten, and then the kids finally fell asleep. Thank you, God.
Of course, at this point, Carl and I were too tired to have a meaningful conversation, and we avoided the music so we wouldn’t disturb the kids.
About midnight, we decided to do a drive-through for a cup of coffee. We realized we were hungry and wanted something other than stale Cheetos, so we decided to get hamburgers, too. We thought if we didn’t turn off the engine the kids would not wake up, but that was a short-lived dream. The cashier had just handed Carl the coffee and burgers when the kids popped up, one at a time like they were all trying to be a jack-in-the-box.
They also appeared to be quite wide awake.
Since we hadn’t planned to get them hamburgers, we tried to hide ours in the front until the kids went back to sleep. But that wasn’t happening.
“What do you have?” David asked.
“Coffee.” I answered. “We need caffeine to stay awake to drive.”
“What else?”
“Uh,,,” Do I lie so I don’t have to explain why we don’t have burgers for them? Or do I try to figure out how to share two sandwiches among seven people? I’m good, but not that good.
“I smell food.” Michael said.
I glanced at Carl for help.
“um… I don’t think so,” he said, hastily dropping his burger in the center console. “Must be your imagination.”
Keeping my eyes straight ahead, I slid the McDonald’s bag to the floor between my feet and leaned my head against the window. Maybe if it looked like I was going to sleep, the kids would take the hint.
Yeah, that would happen about the same time that cats would do what they’re told.
Everything was peaceful for an hour or so, then the kids started squabbling, which soon deteriorated into full fledged fighting, and parts of the car bingo game were flying around the back of the van. Danielle refused to take a nap, no matter how hard we tried to get her to lie down, so I went to the back of the van to keep game parts from hitting the back of Carl’s head. The twins took that as an open invitation to use me for a trampoline, so considering the noise, the jumping, and the crushed Cheetos all over the mattress, I quickly retreated to the front seat, leaving the mess with the kids.
By lunch time, we were all more than ready to stop for awhile to see if we could straighten our cramped bodies from the sitting position to a standing one. But somehow the kids weren’t nearly as anxious to run around and make noise as they had been in the van. In fact, meal times were the only real quiet times of the whole trip.
When we pulled into another rest area for supper, it was an instant replay of the lunch break. The kids sat quietly at the picnic table, ignoring all the grass that just called for little feet to scamper all over it.
After we finished eating, we tried to get everyone to get one last drink, and go potty so we wouldn’t have to stop again for awhile. No matter haw hard we tried to avoid frequent stops, nobody had to go potty when we needed gas, but fifteen minutes later one of them simply wouldn’t be able to wait another second.
We made two quick stops between six and ten, and then the kids finally fell asleep. Thank you, God.
Of course, at this point, Carl and I were too tired to have a meaningful conversation, and we avoided the music so we wouldn’t disturb the kids.
About midnight, we decided to do a drive-through for a cup of coffee. We realized we were hungry and wanted something other than stale Cheetos, so we decided to get hamburgers, too. We thought if we didn’t turn off the engine the kids would not wake up, but that was a short-lived dream. The cashier had just handed Carl the coffee and burgers when the kids popped up, one at a time like they were all trying to be a jack-in-the-box.
They also appeared to be quite wide awake.
Since we hadn’t planned to get them hamburgers, we tried to hide ours in the front until the kids went back to sleep. But that wasn’t happening.
“What do you have?” David asked.
“Coffee.” I answered. “We need caffeine to stay awake to drive.”
“What else?”
“Uh,,,” Do I lie so I don’t have to explain why we don’t have burgers for them? Or do I try to figure out how to share two sandwiches among seven people? I’m good, but not that good.
“I smell food.” Michael said.
I glanced at Carl for help.
“um… I don’t think so,” he said, hastily dropping his burger in the center console. “Must be your imagination.”
Keeping my eyes straight ahead, I slid the McDonald’s bag to the floor between my feet and leaned my head against the window. Maybe if it looked like I was going to sleep, the kids would take the hint.
Yeah, that would happen about the same time that cats would do what they’re told.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Another Excerpt From My New Book
Some of the readers here who have been following my excerpts from my newest book, expressed a desire to know more about our vacation, so here is the next segment of the chapter: ROAD TRIP - Or Are We There Yet, Papa Smurf....
To read the first part of this chapter, click HERE
By the time school was over for the summer, I’d saved up enough for gas – keep in mind that this was a long, long time ago and it didn’t cost a hundred dollars to fill the gas tank of a van. I even had enough to pay for one or two nights in a motel if I couldn’t talk Carl into camping along the way.
Yeah. Like that was going to happen. Carl has never been an outdoors man. His idea of roughing it is to drive a Winnebago from motel to motel, so it didn’t look promising for the camping idea. But I could talk him into picnics instead of restaurant meals, especially on the way to Michigan. We sure didn’t want to run out of money on the way home. Who wants to be stuck in the middle of Missouri with empty wallets? So my fist was tighter than Mr. Potter’s as we finished planning the trip.
The kids were bouncing off the walls with excitement for the entire week before we left. They made all kinds of plans for how much fun they were going to have, not realizing that hours and hours of riding in the car would precede that fun. The way they talked I’m sure they thought it would only take a half hour to get from Texas to Michigan. A thought I’m sure Carl wished was true. Driving with the kids is not his idea of a good time. Sometimes he doesn’t even fare well with a two-mile trip to church on Sunday.
Finally the day arrived. We packed the van, and created a place in the back for the kids to play, and when the time came, to sleep. (This was long before mandatory seat belts or car seats for kids, and lots of families traveled this way.) We had one bench seat across the very back of the van, and the rest of the space up to the captains’ chairs was empty. That’s where we put a small mattress and several sleeping bags, and all the kids.
We counted heads, to make sure we hadn’t left anyone behind, and headed out. I had this idyllic vision of the kids playing quietly in the back, while Carl and I listened to music and had a meaningful conversation.
Ha.
The kids were wild as Tasmanian devils, and we’d barely gone a mile before I started to wonder if taking five kids on a 1200 mile trip was really such a hot idea. Not to mention the fact that we would have to go another 1200 miles to get home again.
The thought of saying, “Oh, hell, let’s go home and paint the garage” was tempting. But I knew Carl would rag on me forever for changing my mind. Plus, one look at the eager young faces of the kids quelled any thought of abandoning the adventure.
I settled back in my seat, and we went another 30 miles before things got too bad. Then the kids started asking every five minutes if we were going to cross the Mississippi River soon. Then they wanted to know if we were still in Texas. Then they wanted to know if we’d be in Kentucky in time for dinner. We finally told them not to call us, we’d call them.
To read the first part of this chapter, click HERE
By the time school was over for the summer, I’d saved up enough for gas – keep in mind that this was a long, long time ago and it didn’t cost a hundred dollars to fill the gas tank of a van. I even had enough to pay for one or two nights in a motel if I couldn’t talk Carl into camping along the way.
Yeah. Like that was going to happen. Carl has never been an outdoors man. His idea of roughing it is to drive a Winnebago from motel to motel, so it didn’t look promising for the camping idea. But I could talk him into picnics instead of restaurant meals, especially on the way to Michigan. We sure didn’t want to run out of money on the way home. Who wants to be stuck in the middle of Missouri with empty wallets? So my fist was tighter than Mr. Potter’s as we finished planning the trip.
The kids were bouncing off the walls with excitement for the entire week before we left. They made all kinds of plans for how much fun they were going to have, not realizing that hours and hours of riding in the car would precede that fun. The way they talked I’m sure they thought it would only take a half hour to get from Texas to Michigan. A thought I’m sure Carl wished was true. Driving with the kids is not his idea of a good time. Sometimes he doesn’t even fare well with a two-mile trip to church on Sunday.
Finally the day arrived. We packed the van, and created a place in the back for the kids to play, and when the time came, to sleep. (This was long before mandatory seat belts or car seats for kids, and lots of families traveled this way.) We had one bench seat across the very back of the van, and the rest of the space up to the captains’ chairs was empty. That’s where we put a small mattress and several sleeping bags, and all the kids.
We counted heads, to make sure we hadn’t left anyone behind, and headed out. I had this idyllic vision of the kids playing quietly in the back, while Carl and I listened to music and had a meaningful conversation.
Ha.
The kids were wild as Tasmanian devils, and we’d barely gone a mile before I started to wonder if taking five kids on a 1200 mile trip was really such a hot idea. Not to mention the fact that we would have to go another 1200 miles to get home again.
The thought of saying, “Oh, hell, let’s go home and paint the garage” was tempting. But I knew Carl would rag on me forever for changing my mind. Plus, one look at the eager young faces of the kids quelled any thought of abandoning the adventure.
I settled back in my seat, and we went another 30 miles before things got too bad. Then the kids started asking every five minutes if we were going to cross the Mississippi River soon. Then they wanted to know if we were still in Texas. Then they wanted to know if we’d be in Kentucky in time for dinner. We finally told them not to call us, we’d call them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)