Get This.

If you know us, you know we're a strange family. Most of what we do is at least slightly off the beaten path. I have to plug, just briefly, one of our newly adopted loves.

We love real foods, natural products, you know, basic stuff. So when some dear friends of mine started a company selling the most natural of natural, green of green laundry product, I was excited to try it out. I'm especially interested in this kind of thing with my guy Noah in the family, as he is extremely sensitive to fumes, chemicals, and synthetic or harsh anything. We're talking seizures here, breath stopping, debilitating seizures, that at times have been caused by some of the junk listed above. And I figure, if it's better for him to get that stuff out of the house, it's better for all of us.

Soapberrysolutions.com is where you need to go to get the full scoop on what they're about, but I'm telling you, this stuff works, my clothes are clean. It stores for ages, is gentle on clothes and skin, is environmentally super friendly, and unlike certain other detergents, this doesn't knock you over the head with -ugh- a bunch of stinky fragrance that frankly, makes me a little woozy.

I am a repeat buyer on very few products, but I'm going for my third round on this stuff. And who doesn't want to support a small family business that is doing something good? So really, if you're a human being that likes clean clothes and other people, just give them a try. Seriously, go.

Green.

I am slightly green. With envy.

My husband gets to go to Spain. I am in love with Europe. He got some random job and gets to go for a week next month. He will miss Valentine's Day, and his birthday. More importantly, he will have access to bread, cheese, and chocolate that trumps anything I have ever eaten on this continent. He's also in for an architectural feast like nothing he's ever experienced.

Sigh.

I'm happy for him.

Really.

'Round the Bend: Part 2

We were supposed to leave my parents' house on the Thursday after Christmas. (I will say, Christmas was really good. The kids were a riot to watch, and sick or not, they had a ball with the grandparents and their uncle)

After a quick weather check, and much debate, we decided to wait an extra day because the weather forecasts were looking ominous along our whole route home. So off we went early Friday morning, half full of high hopes for a better trip, and half full of dread, knowing even the smoothest trip would still mean 18-19 hours in the car.

Duncan started asking how much longer until we'd be home, after 2 1/2 hours.

The first nine hours passed by fairly uneventfully, just some fatigue/sadness/grumpiness on everyone's parts. We were half way home, and starting to feel somewhat relieved. We were suddenly informed by a lit sign that the freeway was closed, and we were directed off at the next exit. This had happened on the trip up too, but after a slight detour, we had gotten back on the freeway and carried on. So we weren't worried, we simply looked for the nearest path back to the freeway where we could resume our trip.

Enter know-it-all transportation worker. He hopped out of his pick-up and flagged us down. We roll down a window. "You trying to get yourselves poisoned?" Um, no...? He went on, very condescendingly mind you, like somehow we were already supposed to know, explaining that there had been a huge train wreck just a bit south of where we were, with a chemical spill, and it would take at least 2 to 3 days to clean up, so our best bet was to head home. The Utah plates apparently didn't give him any clues as to where that might be. He told us that finding a hotel would be near impossible anywhere near there. And then for some reason, though we had said next to nothing to him and definitely had not been in any way rude, he goes off on this snide, "But you can do whatever you want. You're probably way smarter than average. Keep going, see what happens." tangent. We were too tired and baffled to come back with anything. I could not speak, for about 15 minutes. I was so tired, still not totally well, I was angry and in denial.


There was no other way to go south. We were nearly at the OR/ID border. We did not have 2 to 3 days to mill around Oregon, waiting for a freeway that may or may not open sometime soon. So we turned around, and started heading north again. North. We drove all the way to Spokane where we found a hotel to stay in overnight. For our 13 hours of driving on Friday, we had a net gain of 4 hours.

After a not-great night's sleep, we were off once again. But only after discovering that two pairs of pants that had been pottied through the day before were left in the van overnight. Both parents evidently thought the other had grabbed them and/or bagged them up. So I neatly packaged up the frozen-solid-potty-pants-sculptures, and we carried on.

Spokane is pretty. Coeur D'Alene was gorgeous. And then on to Montana.

Montana was cold. Our antifreeze froze. There were all these little tiny pockets of towns throughout the mountains, and we were trying to figure out how anyone could live in most of them. Apparently in this particular section of the state, there is no limit to the number of sheds one can have in a yard. Everywhere I looked, sheds. Different sizes, shapes, colours, scattered across yards with no clear plan or purpose. We also passed a yard with a huge collection of dollies in one part, and a huge army of traffic cones in the other. Someone else had abandoned 2 newish looking fire trucks on a median, where they sat, under about 2 feet of snow. I do not understand Montana.

We hit some snowy conditions (that were not forecasted) which slowed us down some more. The kids were punch drunk by Pocatello. I fed them French fries for dinner. Again, no one slept. Saturday ended as we pulled into our driveway at midnight, after another 14 hours on the road. Kids down, car unloaded, bed at 2 am. I woke up coming down with something else. I'm still unpacking. I will not drive anywhere more than 3 hours from my house, ever, so don't ask.

Public bathrooms.
27 hours.
In-car diaper changes.
Spills.
Screams.

You want to see us? We'll be at home.

Driving 'Round the Bend: Part 1

We left home 2 days after I started on antibiotics for walking pneumonia. Dumb. I shouldn't have been going anywhere but my own bed.

The 18 hour drive took almost 25 hours. I was ready to turn around and come home when we hit Boise (6 hours in), where we stopped for some supplies. I was getting Marley out of the car so she could come inside with me and stretch her legs, and she promptly barfed all over both of us. In my very ill fog, I had not thought to put extra outfits for the kids or myself in the car, and all the clothes were in suitcases strapped down to the top of the van with cords, rope and tarps. There was no undoing and then re-doing all that in a very cold parking lot. We cleaned up as best we could, but little did I know we had 19 more hours to enjoy the faint smell of vomit floating about the car. (Where ever you think of it from here on out, insert a screaming child, some cup throwing, a few "He's touching meeeee!" 's, some over-tired crying, and many potty stops)

Me, still sick.

We hit some nasty weather, though not in the Snoqualme Pass, which was the stretch we had been most worried about. No, these patches came in other mountain passes, in the dark, boxed in by transport trucks on every side. We got stuck behind 2 separate accidents. The first, we sat for and hour and a half without moving an inch. The second accident had us sitting there for an hour and 45 minutes before we started creeping forward. And two of us had needed a bathroom stop well before that.

Me, so sick.

We finally got out of the second jam, though still drove carefully since it was alternating between snow and rain, and then some psychotic transport truck driver (FedEx needs those How's My Driving? numbers on the backs of their trucks) decided it would be fun, for no reason at all, to speed up, start wildly honking his horn, and then pass us, seriously maybe 2 inches from taking our side mirror off. We were not in his way (no one else was around), we were squarely in our lane the whole time, and the roads were anything but dry. It's good I wasn't driving because you mess with my kids, and it's over for you. I would have done something stupid.

Sick.

We made it to the border eventually. Mind you, none of the kids have slept more than cat-naps at this point, about 23 and 1/2 hours in, but Noah was trying. The border agent had us take the blanket off of Noah's head so he could see that he matched his passport photo, and Noah flipped out. With a raised eyebrow and a bit of a scowl, the agent asked several questions, including whether Jeremy had ever been arrested, and why we were coming through the border at 4 am with a van full of kids. Yeah, that was our plan, border man, to get to the border at some insane hour after driving ALL DAY so that we could enjoy Christmas with our sick cranky kids. Yup. That was the plan.

Bleh. Duncan, Gabriel, Noah and Marley, coughing.

My parents' church starts at 9 am. We did not attend. This frustrated me because the Sunday before Christmas is one of my most favourite times to be at church. By Monday, the entire family was on antibiotics. I needed a good cry and 12 hours of sleep. I got neither.

That's that, I thought. The trip back will be better.