Tales from the road, Victoria Day edition

May 15, 2008 by Barbara.

When we travel, it’s hard to get anything written let alone posted. My mom doesn’t have a computer or Internet connection, though she is starting to talk about them, if only to receive the emails that form the basis of most of my blog entries and the pictures of Reid that I post here and to a private photo blog. For now, though, posting requires that I use a dial-up connection or visit one of my siblings’ computers. I am busy visiting my siblings’ and it seems wrong to spend the time with the dial-up connection or with their computers. I think about writing many times each day. I’m going to post the stories on the day that they occurred and apologize to blog-purists who think back dating is questionable. Now, for the interesting stuff …

When I picked Reid up from daycare on Thursday, one of the teachers told me that Reid had complained of a tummy ache and feeling cold. At lunch, Reid had eaten a few bites of a fish stick and then threw up on herself and her pretty dress that she had chosen because she wanted to look fancy when we got to Grandma Joyce’s. The teacher hadn’t called since we were picking Reid up within the hour anyway but she did want us to know. I gambled that Reid would recover quickly now that she had got the “sick” out of her belly and told Ken I thought we should travel anyway. We brought a little bucket along as an insurance policy.

Reid went to sleep without a lot of protest, or at least I didn’t hear much before I fell asleep. When she roused I thought it hadn’t been long enough - I was still tired - and pretended to sleep. She told Ken her tummy felt funny and he told her to use her bucket. I thought, “Man, are you ever getting scammed. It’s more obvious than the glass of water trick.” I stopped this line of thinking when Reid started vomiting into her bucket. Reid is a stealthy vomiter; she is quiet and purposeful. I am grateful for this, especially when I am sitting next to her in the backseat. I would have trouble not joining her otherwise. And it is all about me, after all. Well, I took the bucket when Reid said that she was done and told Ken we’d need to find an exit from the highway to dump the bucket. Reid perked up and asked, “Can we go to a McDonald’s?” Being the mean mama that I am, and because I was holding a bucket with still-warm-from-her-body vomit in it, I refused the request. With a small drink of water in her, Reid proclaimed all was well and we continued driving after that brief stop.

Over the next couple of hours, Reid and I looked out the windows and talked about what we saw and also did some finger painting with her Color Wonder Finger Paints. The finger paints are very cool. They look and feel like Vaseline when they are in the paint tray but, when applied to the special paper, they turn colours. The “magic” of the colour transformation and the tactile experience of the finger painting are pretty cool. The fact that the paint remains clear on everything other than the Color Wonder paper is more than great. Those folks at Crayola are very smart.

I offered to set up my laptop so that Reid could watch videos but she declined the offer. “Oh, my,” I thought, “she really is sick if watching a video requires too much effort.” How fortunate, then, that I hadn’t quelled my impulse to bring along a ridiculous number of books. I read nearly a score of Clifford the Big Red Dog books and many others over the course of the next five hours. At one point, I counted 43 books in our “have read” pile. In the midst of our reading spree, we stopped for supper in a Walmart parking lot along Brock Road in Pickering, on the way to the hidden start of Highway 407. I’d packed sandwich fixings but forgot condiments. Reid and I used the store’s bathroom and bought mustard, relish and a container of chocolate milk for supper and the biggest pieces of sidewalk chalk I have ever seen. The Giant Sidewalk Chalk isn’t packaged as conveniently as the Sidewalk Chalk bucket but the novelty of the size will be worth the hassle. I hope. Reid thought she was hungry for a number of the things I offered for supper and enthusiastically took a bite or two of a couple of different sandwiches, vegetables and fruit. Poor thing.

We finally made it to a McDonalds about 8:00 pm. I took Reid in to use the bathroom and put on her pajamas. She didn’t even ask for anything to eat or drink. Back in the car, I read some more - 43+ books take time to read - and then declared myself too tired to continue. I believe in telling truth to power, errm to kids. I reminded Ken that he needed to concentrate on his driving and not on speaking to Reid and laid my head back. (Ken knows to concentrate but it is a signal to Reid not to expect him to entertain her while I sleep.) Reid fought sleep for a while - afternoon naps are pushing her bedtime back beyond my comfort zone - but finally nodded off. She had been planning to stay awake to help Ken watch out for things and also to help him find Grandma Joyce’s house. I didn’t manage to fall asleep, though, as my own tummy was feeling sympathy for Reid’s. Fortunately, I didn’t need to share her bucket.

We finally made it to Grandma Joyce’s house about 9.5 hours after we left our own. Reid didn’t protest when we moved her from her car seat straight to bed and didn’t want to stay awake like she did at Easter. Thank goodness for small mercies, I say.

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