Road Trip Family

A Wild Ride!

Last summer, while on vacation, I witnessed my two older girls going off to ride a roller coaster together. Alone.

Without me or My Chandler.

For me, it was kind of bittersweet to watch them enjoy something that I love.

For My Chandler, it was a relief that he didn’t have to ride the coaster! He and wild rides don’t always mix! 

Two days later, I watched my youngest, Pumpkin, take her first spin on a kiddie roller coaster with Peanut.

Followed by a very quick stop by the ride attendant to let her off.

Followed by tears from Pumpkin because the ride was too scary and bumpy.

For her, carousels and ferris wheels are more her speed.

I was a bit surprised that one of my children would not like a roller coaster.

And then I remembered my first time on a roller coaster.

It was a kiddie coaster, much like the one that Pumpkin had just attempted on her own.

I was so excited to go on this ride at the small amusement park in York, Maine. I was about the same age as Pumpkin is now and my aunt and her roommate were taking me and my sister on some of the rides in this park. The kiddie coaster looked amazing to my small eyes and I couldn’t wait to try it out.

When it was time to board, I sat down in the car with my aunt while her roommate sat with my sister behind us. The excitement started to build. And then, the coaster took off around the (mini) track.

We weren’t even fully around the track when I started to cry. I wanted off this ride!

I remember feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief as the coaster came to a stop to let me and my aunt off before it resumed for the others in the cars.

Relief that I didn’t have to be on that scary, bumpy ride anymore.

Embarrassment that my younger sister was completely fine with the coaster and stayed on for the rest of the ride, waving to me with a huge grin every time they went around the track.

But, as I grew, I gained a better appreciation for coasters and will gladly escort one of my kids on the latest and greatest coasters.

So, I guess there’s hope, yet, for Pumpkin!

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It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas!

With the heat wave hitting the Northeast this past week and seeing recent advertising on television about Christmas in July, I started reminiscing about a trip we took when I was a little girl. I think I was maybe 4 or 5.

It was summertime and it was hot. But, there was a place near Wilmington, NY, in the Adirondack mountains where it was just a little bit colder - magically colder.

It’s called the North Pole and it can be found in Santa’s Workshop, a themed park that actually boasts the address of North Pole, NY.

Our visit must have made quite the impact on me, because even though I was very young, to this day I have very vivid memories of this place.

I remember getting to touch the North Pole, an actual frosty cold pole situated in the center of Santa’s little village.

There was a building where you could see reindeer. Actual reindeer! And each one had their name on their stall. (Are you singing the song right now? I am!)

I remember going to visit the big man himself, jolly old St. Nick. It wasn’t even December! I hadn’t even made my Christmas list, yet! (Although, I am sure I came up with some suggestions for him, anyway!)

I remember there being some rides to go on and sleighs to sit in. I remember it feeling very “Christmas-y” and kind of magical in this little village.

But, the biggest memory for me was my acting debut at Santa’s Workshop. There was a short skit that was being performed at an outdoor stage area in the park and we decided to check it out. My sister and I were given permission to head down towards the gate at the front of the seating area so we could see the show a bit better.

Call it luck, or just being in the right place at the right time, but I was selected by an elf to be a part of the show.

I got invited on stage and was given the honor of sitting next to Mother Goose as she read a story.

Don’t ask me what the show was about. I think I was too mesmerized by this opportunity to be on stage to fully remember what the plot.

But, I do vaguely recall it was a mystery that needed to be solved. I do remember needing to skip around the stage with Red Riding Hood and being shocked when her shoe came off. And I do remember being even more shocked that she just kept right on going and didn’t go back to get it!

It was hard work pulling off a convincing role as “child who helped solve the mystery.” But, I did it and I was rewarded with a special Santa hat with my name on it.

A hat that I still have to this day!

The hat is still around and so is the workshop. There are still rides and shows with the Mother Goose Players. The reindeer are still there and so is Santa Claus. You can still get Santa hats and cookies.

The park is open during the summer all the way through December.

And if you go, and there’s a mystery to be solved….give me a shout!

Memories of a Dog

Fall days have arrived and with it the cold nights. Nights where you put on your favorite pair of fuzzy socks, your warm pajamas and snuggle up under many blankets.

It’s nights like this that remind me of a particular camping trip that I went on with my family. It was the summer after I graduated high school and we were taking one last vacation before I headed off to college. We had decided to visit Acadia National park and spend the week camping with family friends.

This camping trip was a little different for us, because we had a new member of the family joining us for the vacation. His name was Cory and he was an adorable and very young beagle puppy. He had just become a part of our family and it didn’t seem right to leave him behind so soon after getting him. So, we packed up his dog bowl and his leash and brought him along.

Cory became one of the main attractions for us. Whenever we were in town, tourists would stop us to see the adorable pup. Whenever we went for walks, Cory would lead the pack for a few minutes and then need to be carried the rest of the way. Whenever we played near the water, Cory was right there to check it out and play with us. And whenever we ate…well, Cory was a growing puppy who loved to eat, too!

There was one particular morning that Cory gave us all a scare and we thought we’d lost him to the wild before we’d really had him.

Camping in Maine, even in August, can get kind of chilly at night. We all had our sleeping bags to snuggle into to stay warm and we had made a little bed of blankets for Cory between my mom and brother. When morning came, we all woke up to discover that the bed of blankets was empty. And even though Cory was a curious puppy, the tent was zipped up tight, so it didn’t seem likely that he had escaped the tent.

But, he was nowhere to be found inside the tent and when he was called there was no answer or movement.

A few frantic moments later, though, and one more “Cory!”, and Mom’s sleeping bag began to move down near her feet. Slowly that little lump started moving its way up the bag until a sleepy little puppy dog nose poked its way out of the top of the bag.

Cory had managed to wiggle his way down to the bottom of the bag in the middle of the night and found a toasty warm spot to curl up in. Smart dog! He gave us quite a scare that morning, but now years later, we chuckle as we remember that moment.

As I burrow down under my blankets, I think about our Cory and how he burrowed his way into the warmest spot of the sleeping bag. And how he burrowed his way into our hearts for the next 12 years.

Birthday Travels

This was a milestone year for My Chandler and me. Within the last 2 months we have both celebrated the end of one decade and the start of a new one. You would think that this milestone would bother at least one of us, but neither of us has had trouble with turning 40.

Turning 26, on the other hand, was a very difficult age to turn. It was the downhill slide of my twenties!

With birthdays on my mind lately, I’ve been thinking about my past birthdays, some great and some not so great. (We won’t bring up my 20^th birthday when I was stuck cooking hamburgers and hot dogs over a hot fire for 75 kids and staff at an all camp cookout. A huge hot fire. In August. By myself.)

Because my birthday is right in the middle of August, we are usually traveling some place or another. One year, we had a birthday picnic lunch at a rest stop! Seriously. Another time, my family was at a campground camping with a bunch of families from our church.

 
And as I have mentioned in a previous post, there was the time I got to spend my birthday dinner with Mickey Mouse. For someone who loves Disney as much as I do, how can you possibly top that?

 
But, I did. Five years ago, I got to make the most special trip on my birthday.

I traveled home from the hospital with the newest member of our family, Pumpkin. What a great birthday present!

 

 

Learning to Drive

I found myself behind a car today with a big yellow sign on top that read “Student Driver”. As I followed this car down the road – slowly, I might add, because we were going the actual speed limit – I began to reminisce about the beginnings of my driving career.

I remember signing up for the summer driver’s education program at school. It was a couple of mornings a week, with some time spent in a classroom reviewing rules and some time spent practicing in the class cars. I remember the excitement of getting behind the wheel, a seat that was usually reserved for Dad or Mom. I felt so grown up, so excited, but also extremely nervous. My only experience up to that point with driving had been one failed attempt at go-kart racing when I was 12. And it resulting in a humiliating walk back to the starting gate when the race track operator finally asked me to just stop driving.

This time I was older and better prepared. Or so I hoped.

We were broken up into groups of four with an instructor. I remember loving the days we practiced on the automatic and dreading the days when we practiced on the standard. Ironically, though, the instructor did tell me at the end of the class that I should get a standard as my first car.

We would take turns driving. Which was okay when the other girl and one of the boys was driving. However, there was the other boy in our group who just never got the hang of it, turning the wrong way onto streets with one way signs, stopping at green lights, taking corners a little too roughly, forgetting to signal. I think our instructor retired after our class ended because of him!

Our instructor even went so far as to show us how to change a tire on the car and how to change the channel on the radio while we were driving. Which would have been nice if any of the stations in the car at the time were good!

And then, I remember the practicing at home. The hours spent trying to conquer Dad’s standard car – and the hours spent rolling back down hills. The times on trips when I got to drive a little bit on the highways – and having Mom and my siblings poke fun in the back seats about being jostled around all over the place.

And finally, there was the exam.

Which included a parallel parking demonstration.

In Albany.

In a minivan.

I had a brief flashback to that embarrassing moment on the go-kart race track, but then I took a deep breath and maneuvered that minivan into that – 2 car wide – parking space.

And the rest is history. I have a license. I have driven all over the place, including the New Jersey Turnpike (a personal goal of mine). And in 3 years, my oldest will be getting her permit and experiencing the ups and downs of learning to drive.

At least she’s already successfully driven a go-kart!

Girls' Day in New York City

Last year, my Dad’s wish to take his mom, his son and his oldest granddaughter to a baseball game at Yankee Stadium became a reality. Four generations were set to travel to New York. Very quickly, though, this trip grew bigger and bigger. My Chandler decided to attend the game, too, along with my brother-in-law and his parents. It was becoming quite a party!

And then, one day my sister suggested that she and I venture into the city while they are all at the game. And we could take her two girls and my two younger girls down into the city and do a little sight-seeing.

My sister and I and four young girls under the age of 8.

In New York City.

Were we crazy or what?

But, we planned it very carefully, pulled together our maps, mapped out a route and bravely ventured into the city for what turned out to be a very exciting, fun-filled adventure for the six of us.

How do you spend the day in New York City when you have four girls with you under the age of 8?

There is so much to see and do in New York, that it can be difficult to make a decision. But for us it seemed pretty simple. All four girls seemed the most interested in a visiting a couple of fun stores around the city.

 
After arriving at Grand Central Station, we started walking down 5^th Avenue until we reached the American Girl Place. This store was pretty much a requirement for these girls, and quite frankly for my sister and me, too. Three stories with a café, hairstyling station, and displays of everything from the catalogs, this was like an amusement park for these girls!

After spending a couple of hours in this store, we had seen every nook and cranny of the store – including the bathrooms. We decided it was time to move on. We continued down 5^th Avenue until we arrived at a very popular landmark, FAO Schwarz.  What fun that was for all of us. From the climbing tower to the Barbie runway, there was much to see. But, the highlight of the store was the huge floor piano, exactly like the one pictured in the movie Big. All four of the kids tickled the ivories with their feet!

 
After taking a photo with the soldier at the front door of the store, we moved over to 3^rd avenue for a little treat at Dylan’s Candy Bar. Three stories of everything from ice cream to a chocolate fountain to a huge M&M dispenser. It was a heavenly place for a chocolate lover! And the girls liked it, too!

 
Because we had walked all this distance, we decided to take the subway back to Grand Central Station where we’d get our train back. Subways with four kids under the age of 8 can be a little crazy. Add in the fact that they were being led by two out-of -towners who were unfamiliar with the subway system made it that much crazier!

The day was amazing, the girls were in great spirits all day, we had no complaints about all the walking, we saw some wonderful sights along the way and we experienced some great memory-making moments. It was a trip worth repeating!

Telling Time in TV Shows

When we were young, every trip in the car seemed to take forever, whether it was the 11 hour trek from upstate New York to the southern portion of Delaware or the half-hour trek to the grocery store from our house. When you are young, being confined in a small space with not a lot to do for any period of time can feel like forever.

 

And when you are young and can’t tell time, you have no clue how much longer your trip will last, even after you get an answer to that frequently heard question, “How much longer?”

 

When I was little and didn’t know how to read a clock (this was before digital, so it involved two, sometimes three hands and little lines between the numbers!), Mom and Dad came up with an ingenious way to give me and my siblings a way to figure out the timeframe on a trip. They used television shows we were familiar with and used those as comparison to the time left in our trip.

 

An hour’s time was usually compared to Sesame Street, while a half hour’s time was either Mr. Rogers, Electric Company or Captain Kangaroo.

 

It was a little discouraging to hear that we had “Three Sesame Streets and a Mr. Rogers” left to go on our trip, but always wonderful to hear that “only half an Electric Company” was left!

 

And even as we got older and learned how to read the clock and figure out the time, we still talked in Sesame Streets and Captain Kangaroos.

 

Which is kind of funny to hear a 15-year-old talk like that!

 

And while the shows might change, it’s kind of a timeless way to measure time in the car!

He Is Heavy, He’s My Brother!

When we were younger, my family owned a station wagon. Well, actually we owned two different station wagons during my childhood, but one of them met an unfortunate demise after being struck by a cow.

That’s another story for another day.

Whenever we went on long trips, my sister and I would grab the coveted seats in the back by the windows. Partly because you could lean against the window with your pillow, partly because you could get a good view for Cow Poker and the Alphabet Game. And partly because my brother, the youngest, sat in a booster seat in the middle.

As soon as you got in the car, too, you had to designate your space. Fortunately our vinyl seats in the back had little ridges and we’d count out how many were ours. Invisible lines were drawn and you didn’t cross over into each other’s space for anything!

Inevitably, my brother would dose off an hour or two into the trip. In his defense, he usually had a good dose of Benedryl in his system to ward off car sickness, so the drowsiness would set in quickly.

This normally wouldn’t be a big deal, but for my sister and me, it was. It meant that as soon as he was out, his head would start leaning to the side until he landed on someone’s shoulder.

To me, it always felt like it was my shoulder!

And as he drifted further and further into dreamland, his head would get heavier and heavier.

Which would lead to complaining that he was heavy.

Which would lead to Mom saying that he’s my brother and I should support him.

Which would lead to more complaining that my shoulder was really, really hurting.

Which would lead to Mom telling me that I could try to prop his head up but if it didn’t work I should just let him lay there.

Which would lead to five minutes of me trying to get his head to stay propped up and being in tears when nothing worked.

Which would result in Mom saying that my sister and I should take turns having his head on our shoulder.

Both my sister and I would tolerate it for a little bit, but then we’d need to “hand him off” to the other. And those times of letting him keep his head on our shoulder would get smaller and smaller until it became more like watching a tennis match.

His head would volley back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until finally Mom would turn around and snap that we should stop and she would time us.

Which would lead into negotiating how much time he would be on our shoulder.

Which would lead to a great big sigh from Mom in the front seat…. Well, you get the picture.

But, got to love that Benedryl. My brother would stay asleep through it all!

 

Making Music

I never thought I’d ever hear myself say “Back in my day” or “When I was a kid”. But, as my own girls have grown, I’m finding myself saying it more frequently. And what’s even funnier is my girls’ reactions when I tell them something about my childhood. That look of disbelief at some impossible comment. That sympathetic stare wondering how I could have survived back in the olden days without all those creature comforts they have now!

Or maybe that’s just my look mirrored in theirs!

 
We were discussing one day what is an appropriate length for a road trip to warrant getting out the portable DVD players. All three of my girls were trying to convince My Chandler and me that a 45 minute drive was long enough of a trip to take out the DVD players.

 
So, I shared with them that “back in my day” we didn’t have DVD players for trips.

Mouths gaped open. Loud gasps were heard.

And then the question was asked. “Well, then what did you do?”

So, I started to share with them some of the games we played, activities we did in the car. And most importantly, how we would listen to music.

Because there were five of us in the family and five different tastes in music, it was often difficult to find something that we’d all agree on. So, in the act of fairness, it was decided that we’d take turns choosing the music. Certain rules were established in keeping with the act of fairness. If what we chose was a 2-cassette tape piece (yes, cassette tapes and yes, some Broadway numbers really did take 2-cassette tapes), we were only allowed one tape. We could rewind a song and listen to it again only if everyone else wanted to hear it again. We could say swear words if it was part of the lyrics. And it was okay to sing along as long as you didn’t sing so loudly and wake up your brother (who would inevitably fall asleep and whose head would fall on my shoulder which I would then push over to my sister’s shoulder who would push it back until my brother’s head looked like it was in the middle of a tennis match – but that’s another story.).

This certainly opened my eyes to a lot of music, from the Beatles to Anne Murray to Billy Joel to Peter, Paul & Mary. Some songs take me right back to those days in the car.

And for some reason, Mom’s turn always seemed to happen right after lunch. And when it did, she always seemed to choose an hour of silence. Go figure!

Chocolatey Goodness

As I was growing up, my family would spend many summer vacations on the coast of Maine. My aunt and uncle would open their home in Wells, Maine to us and we’d spend our vacation swimming in the ocean, watching taffy be made, frolicking at the local amusement park, eating seafood and enjoying the touristy things that tourists do.

 
One of the favorite treks we would make would be down to York to visit Nubble Lighthouse. This working white lighthouse with red and black trim is situated on a small island just off the coast of Maine, close enough that it’s almost possible to walk to the island in low tide. When I was younger, there were lighthouse keepers living over on the island. In fact, I remember watching two children about my age running around in the yard and feeling envious that they got to play over there!

There was always another stop to make when we’d go view the Lighthouse. Just around the corner from the Lighthouse is another longtime fixture – Brown’s Old Fashioned Ice Cream. Situated at the bottom of a big rock, the building is a little shack where you order at a window. We’d get our “small” ice cream cones, Maple Walnut for Dad, Black Raspberry for Mom and usually some type of chocolatey frozen concoction for us kids and sit on the big rock enjoying the cold, delicious ice cream cones. If it was evening, we’d get our cones, climb into the back of my uncle’s truck and enjoy our frozen concoction as we cruised back home.

I recently found myself back in that neck of the woods with My Chandler and our girls and found myself envisioning that scrumptious dessert. I pleaded with begged asked My Chandler to drive by and see if it was open.

 
The building is still there. The rock is still there. The large “small” cones are still there. The many different flavors are still available. And I got my chocolatey frozen concoction!

 
It was just as yummy as I remember!