Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Tired of traveling with a toddler

We travel a lot. A LOT. By plane, by car, bus, what have you. During this past month only, we were away for three consecutive weekends: we went upstate NY to New Paltz to visit a friend, then up in Connecticut to visit my aunt and uncle for their annual BBQ, and then this past weekend to Diplomat's aunt and uncle's place in Washington, DC for their granddaughter's first birthday. I am all traveled out. Seriously. If I see our car right now, I might barf. And that would be a shame, since I quite like the car.
Traveling with a (supposedly) potty trained toddler, locked in a car on a highway, is a pure nightmare. Son has learned quickly (clever child, just like his mom) to chant "potty, potty, potty" every time he is strapped or put into something he is not interested in like his car seat, or the high chair (Son is not fond of the whole eating thing), or even to go into the bathtub every night. So, every now and then, while we are driving full speed on I-95, counting our blessings for the low traffic, Son begins to scream playfully: potty potty potty, and even though I KNOW there ain't any, I DARE you not to stop. I frantically beg him to wait, we stop at the next rest area and I patiently hover him above ground next to the car while passers-by give us dirty looks while sipping from ginormous McDonalds coke cups. What is even more ridiculous, I got a nasty look from a rather portly fella WHO WAS WALKING HIS OWN PORTLY DOG to pee. So, since when it is OK for dogs to pee on the street but it is not for my lovely Son?
Anyhow, traveling around with a 20 month old means also dragging the pack and play around (Son refuses to sleep in the same bed with us, I think it is a form of a statement to pay us back for all those nights of CIO when he was a baby), a whole stack of underware and pants in case he has an accident, all his binkies (he sleeps with them), his bear, his precious cars, his books, etc. paraphernalia. Oh yes, and also packing for me and the Diplomat (no, he does not pack, that privilege is reserved for me, woo-hoo?).
So, after three weekends of packing and repacking, and putting the pack and play up and down and up and down and up and down, I am DONE. DONE DONE DONE. I have imposed a moratorium on overnight travel in cars involving him. Angelina Jolie has got NOTHING on me!
I am now busy mentally preparing for our trip to Italy in a month. ..

No comments:

Post a Comment