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Let me just start by saying, whoever thought that taking a road trip when your 8 months pregnant… wait, no.  I should really start by saying how sweet it was that my hubby took the time to plan a little family getaway after the holidays.  In all honesty, it was an awesome idea; one I would normally love if I weren’t 8 months pregnant with a God awful back problem.  I knew this would be quite an adventure as it was, taking 2 toddlers and a psycho dog to the mountains.  Now add 3rd trimester of pregnancy to the mix, and the word ‘adventure’ is taken to a whole new level.  I am here to tell you, don’t attempt a road trip at the end of your pregnancy.  I’m not ungrateful; I’m just being real with you.

Here’s the details.  Sweet man (hubby) rented us (just the 4.5 of us) a chalet in a town a few hours from our home.  The town consists of maybe 400 people, in the middle of nowhere, by a river, and when you arrive, you immediately lose phone service.  In preparation for our getaway, Bri made his lists, I made mine, the boys kept stuffing toys and random nick-knacks in random bags they found in one of the kitchen cabinets… I guess you could say we were ready.  I packed food and snacks and drinks and clothes and pajamas and toiletries and medications of all sorts.  For some reason, any time I travel, having a big bag of meds for the whole family comforts me.  I also made sure to bring my 2 pillows (because that’s how I roll these days) and after loading up the car with everything on my list, we were set!  Let the fun begin!  It was a snowy drive, our ears popped a lot.  The trees looked beautiful, everyone was happy (but the dog- he kept shaking), my back was hurting from sitting in the car for so long but we had a good start…

Rocco was concerned about what we packed and started asking questions like, “Did you lock the doors?  The windows?  What will we eat?  Do we have juice?  Did you bring my underwear?” He likes to be prepared; wonder where he gets that from?  I chimed in, turned to Bri and asked, “Did you bring their gloves?” (Brian was in charge of all ski/snow/sled stuff) He looked at me with eyes.  You know the kind of eyes I’m talking about.  And then I asked, “How about their helmets?” and he immediately shouts, “YOU’RE ASKING ME ALL OF THIS NOW?”  My response? “We’ll figure it out. We’ll just stop somewhere.”

Little did I know where we were going.

Hours later and no glove stores to be found, we turned left on a snow covered road.  There were train tracks on our right, a river on our left and 3 homes/chalets near the river.  Our ‘chalet’ was one of the three.  We were there… and not so happy that in the last 20 minutes of our drive, we realized that we forgot wine, toothpaste, face-wash, the boys ski helmets, snow gloves and the pasta sauce I made for our ‘chalet dinner’.  THINK POSITIVE: We were safe and we were together.  My first thought was that we could build a snowman or fort… Oh wait, no gloves.  We could sled ride…  no gloves.  Whatever.  The boys had a new home to explore.

Within minutes, their little PiggyToes found a ladder on a wall…

… which led to a loft where Brian originally thought they would sleep when booking the place.  They each took their turn trying to climb all the way up but after 3 steps, they’d come back down allowing the other one to try again.  They were scared.  Eventually, we all made our way up the ladder but there was no luck in the sleeping situation.  The loft had ‘DANGEROUS’ written all over it and we had to figure out another sleeping arrangement.  The whole chalet consisted of 2 bedrooms, a loft and a pull out couch.

The loft was out because I didn’t want the boys up there and there was no way I was climbing my prego body up and down the ladder in the middle of the night when baby kicks me in the bladder.

Nap-Time was near so it was a perfect chance to see if the boys could sleep together.  Our kids have never slept together.  Never wanted to, never asked, never have.  Nap-time resulted in scattered marbles, 3 open packages of ear-plugs (how? where? what? No Clue.), 6 pillows on the floor and un-flushed poop in the potty.  They didn’t sleep a wink.  We decided to venture out to find a grocery store and left Beau all to himself in the chalet.

That’s when we introduced our PiggyToes to the ‘town’.  It was like a movie scene.  No joke. 

There was one grocery store, a coffee/breakfast joint (yes, joint.), a dilapidated gas station, a library and a bar.  The bar was packed.  The cashier at the grocery store told Bri about it.  She said they might sell him a couple bottles of wine.  We went and it was shady.  Reeeeeal shady.  Bri walked out of there faster than I’ve ever seen him walk and jumped into the car smelling worse than an ashtray.  We laughed; I gagged.  He couldn’t get over the characters that were in there and clearly they didn’t feel he belonged there either.  No wine.  We drove the 3 roads in town and I couldn’t believe that people actually lived here… full time.  There wasn’t even phone service.  I to find something quaint about this town that would make people want to stay but there were no cute little shops or clean streets, the people were shady and not the friendliest, there was nothing to do… It was interesting.  I’m still unsure what to make of it.  After the navigation system took us in 7 circles, we made our way back to the chalet where Beau was losing his mind.  After dinner, I opened my plastic bag full of medicine to take my prenatal vitamins and iron.  You’ll never believe what I did.  Never.

I took 2 stool softeners instead of my 2 iron pills.

I can’t believe I admitted that but it’s part of the adventure.  One day I’ll look back and laugh.  Seriously, the bottles look identical.  Bri lit a fire and the boys ran around playing and shooting nerf guns at the windows.  We hung out and eventually called it a night and put the kids in each of the 2 bedrooms, leaving the pull out couch for us.

BIG. MISTAKE. (especially when 8 mo. prego)

It was so uncomfortable so Bri took the mattress off and put it on the floor.  Yes, the floor.  Some of you might think, oh how romantic to sleep by the fire on the floor….

In the movies people.  Only in the movies is it romantic. 

Not only were we both sweating because the fire was blazing hot, but remember the train tracks I mentioned?  Oh yes, a train came by our chalet just about every hour blowing its whistle, riding the tracks, shining its lights into the chalet, chugging along… all. night. long.  And oh, remember the ear plugs the boys got into during naptime?  We NOW KNOW why the chalet bedrooms were loaded with EAR PLUGS.  Lord only knows we didn’t think about those earplugs at 3am when we looked over at each other and sighed. We were up: 12am, 2am, 3am, 4:30am… In the interim, my pillow (& head) kept sliding off of the mattress onto the floor.  Awful. and those nice little stool softeners kicked in too.  I think it was 4:30, or maybe 3am that we looked at each other and I whisper yelled, ‘TAKE. ME. HOME.’

By morning, my back was kiiiiilling me, my neck had a kink in it but I put on a happy face and waddled to the stove.  We cooked breakfast: eggs and cheese, sausage links, clementines and toast with butter (from home).  The boys were so happy and well rested.  Go figure.  Mama and Papa were spent.

Babe and I smiled at each other a few times in the kitchen… until the came a train again. The boys ran to the window to check it out.  They loved it.  I wanted to throw rocks at it.  Stupid train.

We rolled our eyes, sipped instant coffee and giggled at the thought of a Starbucks being near.  While we had all intentions of skiing that morning, in our delirious-ness, we forgot that we didn’t have gloves and when we reached an area with cell reception, found out that the closest store that sold gloves was near our home!  And, the ski place only sold fleece gloves for kids.

That was it.  It was time to go home.  Even Brian wanted to leave.  We didn’t tell the boys where we were going…

All in all, our mountain adventure was a nice thought but turned out to be disastrous.  Brian thinks we should try again and go away for a weekend to a resort… Where if we forget toothpaste or gloves or food or anything, we can call downstairs and they’ll get it for us.  No. thank. you. love.  I’m tired.  and that was a lot, I mean A LOT of work to pack up 2 toddlers, a dog, myself, leave the house, sit in the car, unload at a new house, drive all over creation for gloves, feel like I was going to get killed by the drunks in town, brush my teeth with my finger, accidentally take 2 of the wrong pills…

I’m happy in the comfort of my home until baby arrives; 7 weeks!

Home Sweet Home.


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