Planning Is for Suckers

And I guess that makes me a sucker.

I almost made it to North Carolina today. Almost.

Ever since school let out in mid June, I've been trying to plan a trip to see my parents. The problem is that my parents never seem to stay at home long enough for me to get there. They have a motorhome, and they stay on the roll. They spent the better part of July in west Texas ministering and promoting their book, but they were finally heading to their cabin in the mountains this week. I had been tentatively planning a Thursday departure since last week in the hopes that they would actually make it home without being distracted by another ministry engagement. The last time I talked to Mom she was in her cabin. That was at 7:04 p.m.-- my anticipated time of departure and the time that I threw in the towel. Today's trip just wasn't going to happen.

The morning went smoothly enough. I did laundry and nagged the kids to clean their room. They were more excited about packing their bags for Papa's house than in making sure everything was off the floor. Benjy complained of mouth pain so I gave him some Tylenol, and he seemed to improve. Andrew's belly hurt, probably because of the huge slice of chocolate cake I ate last night. Sorry Andrew, Mommy likes chocolate. Jacob was, well, Jacob, which meant he was bouncing and giggling and asking bizarre questions and making his usual array of weird comments that he thought were funny (and sometimes are when I'm not trying to pack for all of us). I just didn't have time to laugh at how he had rubberbanded balloons to his head or how he thought that the guys painting the outside of our building were actually ghosts in his room. I mean, I had a schedule to keep. And his room still wasn't clean.

We had scheduled part two of our Rabies vaccinations for today, so we rushed to the Foreign Service Institute for that bit of fun just after lunch. It was quick and painless with very minimal snickering about our Tijuana post. I think they were distracted by Andrew's new Sophie the Giraffe that came in the mail today. Andrew is so chic.


We got back to our apartment around 2:30, and I started packing all of our bags in the hopes that I could sneak in a nap before our 7 p.m. departure. I had decided to make the 6 and 1/2 hour drive at night for two reasons. 1. Last time I made the trip in May and left at 3 p.m., it took 11 hours; and 2. Andrew hates his car seat and pretty much screams the entire time he is in it, not making for a pleasant ride for the rest of us. I was hoping he would sleep most of the drive.

So I'd amassed a small mountain of luggage and baby paraphernalia for our 4-5 day trip to Grandmama's by the time Chris finally got home. I was about to send him to start loading so I could start napping when the sky opened its floodgates. I didn't even know it was suppose to rain today. Thinking it would pass, I laid down anyway. It didn't pass. Not exactly the best weather for a road trip, but I've never been one to let a little, or a lot, of rain deter me. I had planned to leave today, and come hail or high water, I was going to North Carolina.

But that's when Benjy walked into my room, saying "Me feel bad," and running a fever. Benjy is no stranger to fevers, so we are never alarmed when this occurs. He has an auto-immune periodic fever syndrome (PFAPA) that doesn't affect his medical clearance but is really annoying. Basically, every 4-6 weeks he runs a fever for no reason. These fevers are usually between 104-106 degrees and last up to 6 days. Or they did, before his doctor armed us with prednisone, a steroid, which can knock these episodes out fast. It's made life a lot easier.

Today, however, Benjy had a vaccination, which means that we can't give him prednisone. We thought about it, but a quick call to the pediatrician squelched that hope. The prednisone would at the very least yield the Rabies vaccine ineffective and at the worst cause horrible side effects. We could fight the fever with Motrin and a tepid bath, she said. We were taking this one on old school. Oh prednisone, how I miss thee.

I managed to hold Benjy down and force Motrin down his throat which he doesn't like because it's not "the red one." How dare I make him take pink Motrin! Stubborness is a side effect of the fever and being three years old. Ok, maybe just of being three, but I swear the fever does heighten his obstinance. Juice makes it all better, finally. With Benjy, juice usually makes all things better. It's like me with ice cream.

So I called my mom and told her we weren't going to make it after all. Benjy was the most disappointed by this news, especially since he'd been wearing his bookbag full of toys around most of the day. But he wasn't downtrodden enough to leave the glow stick that he'd found while cleaning his room alone. No, he mustered up enough energy to bite it so that purplish chemicals oozed onto his tongue. And that's when he started screaming. I could smell the acrid chemicals wafting from the punctured glow stick. The smell was sickening. That's when I called Poison Control.

Crystal from Poison Control answered the phone in a curt, nasally voice. After a quick explanation from me, Crystal droned, nonchalantly, and without hesitation, like an old-fashioned telephone operator reciting a well-rehearsed script: "Ma'am, it's non-toxic. The chemicals will burn his mouth a little but not enough to cause harm. Just have him drink fluids, and the bad taste will pass." Clearly, Poison Control has had the glow stick call before. And Crystal was right. Benjy is fine, even if his tongue is glowing purple.

So for now, all the children sleep. And so I sit, in Falls Church, Virginia, blogging about the trip that almost was and wondering what is in store for tomorrow. Will we ever make it to North Carolina?