Life on the highway

I’ve noticed a difference in the way Mark and I describe certain things. Maybe it’s because I’m an optimist and Mark’s a pessimist. Or maybe I like to make certain things sound more glamorous. Here’s an example. If you ask Mark where he went to law school, he’ll tell you “South Bend.” If you ask me where he went to law school, I’ll say “Notre Dame.” If you ask Mark where he works, he’ll say he works at a not-for-profit organization doing immigration law. I’d say he’s an immigration lawyer.

So, if I were to describe our weekend trip, I’d say that the girls and I tagged along with Mark on his business trip to southern Utah. On the other hand, a few days before the trip, I overheard Mark telling a friend on the phone that this weekend he was going on a road trip with a nun. We’re both telling the truth, but I like how my version sounds better.

Wednesday we hit the road with Mark’s boss, who is, indeed, a nun. Mark had a moment of concern when he called the hotel and found out they had only reserved one room for him and his female boss (yep, the nun). It was then that Mark extended a firm invitation (request) that we come with him on his “road trip.” The promise of a free hotel and swimming pool and breakfast buffet was too much for me to resist, so we packed up and left on Wednesday.

When you jam two kids and a largely pregnant mommy in the backseat, with a nun/boss (who has never had kids) driving and daddy/professional colleague in the passenger seat, a few awkward moments are bound to arise. And they did.

Like, an hour down the road, when Sage decided she urgently had to go #2, and we were at a near-dead standstill in freeway construction, with the nearest exit a mile away. (To put this in perspective, it took us an hour to drive twelve miles. During which time we crawled past sixteen hundred orange cones and eventually saw eight total men pretending to be productive construction workers. And Sage worked up a bowel movement to celebrate. And also enlightened us with commentary about the tar smell like "This does not smell like flowers" and "I think the stinky smell is coming from those orange cones.")

Other awkward moments included (but certainly were not limited to):

1. When I realized, around dinnertime, that Eliza’s diaper hadn’t been changed all day, and the damage had been done.

2. When I had to use the bathroom for the third time in our five hour car trip.

3. When I assured Mark’s boss multiple times that Eliza would definitely sleep on the 5-hour trip. Unfortunately, it appears that a steady diet of Cheetos and Bug Bites puts all normal habits of a 2-year-old out of whack.

4. When I fell asleep for 20 minutes and Sage colored green marker stripes up her entire arm.

5. When I realized that the reason Mark asked me to pick up his prescription before we left is so that he could have it on the trip. Oops.

6. When Mark’s boss wanted to head home thirty minutes before the breakfast buffet opened on the final day. I had to put my foot down. I hope she doesn’t fire him on Monday. But those eight pieces of French toast I packed in were delicious.

7. When I offered to take the car to vacuum it after our trip and Mark's boss accepted, explaining that no one is supposed to eat in the car at all.

I don’t know when Mark’s next out-of-town clinic is, but I don’t know that the girls and I will be invited. [Mark would probably say that they don't want us to come.]

And maybe that's just fine.

P.S. It turns out Mark's boss did request two rooms, but the hotel made a mistake. Luckily for us (and especially for Mark's boss) , they gave us another room.