You are a redneck when...

This is a true story of our return trip from The Land of The Bears...

We decided to make our 16 hour return trip in one day, so we packed the car the night before in order to facilitate an early start the next morning. Both cubs were dressed and fed before 7 a.m. (a small miracle in our den), and we were out the door at 7 a.m. sharp. Brother Bear, having been appropriately drugged with Dramamine was a happy clam, and Sugar Bear and I were passing the time singing songs.

The roughest part of the trip is the first hour, as we are driving out of the mountains and we already know that Brother Bear and I suffer from car sickness while in the mountains. Well, about 45 minutes into the trip Sugar Bear started saying, "I wanna go home. I wanna go to sleep." I, ever the optimist, thought this was perfect because she would maybe sleep some of the way. I gave her all of her sleeping necessities: lovie, blankie, lamb and paci and hoped she would soon be hibernating.

And then she looked at me, and I knew we had a problem. Everything went into slow motion at that point. I grabbed the emesis basin we keep in the car for these express purposes, but unfortunately, I was too late. She started barfing everywhere and refused to vomit in the basin. Lovie, blankie, lamb, paci, the car seat and her clothes were all casualties.

We pulled over as quickly as possible and started triage. I stripped her down to her diaper and wiped her down as best as I could while Papa Bear tried to start cleaning the car seat with baby wipes. I assessed the damage and promptly told Papa Bear we were driving directly to the Mal Wart* (*name changed for privacy...ahem) in town and buying a new car seat. Ever the penny pincher, Papa Bear said he could get it clean. I then proceeded to tell him in no uncertain terms that there was no way I was driving 15+ hours in a van with a six year old car seat that reeked of regurgitated cheerios and milk with Brother Bear gaging and saying, "eww! It stinks!" every 15 seconds. (This story is sounding eerily reminiscent of the trip some 28 years ago when my family learned the hard way that I suffered from car sickness. But I digress). Papa Bear relented, and I plopped Sugar Bear in my lap while Papa Bear drove us straight to the local Mal Wart. (Thankfully, it was a 24 hour store, as we had barely reached 8 a.m.)

I went in the store to get the new car seat, pacifier, Lysol wipes, baggies and air freshener and instructed Papa Bear to find the local hazardous waste disposal plant to properly dispose of the car seat and other accoutrements (Turns out that's the dumpster in back of the local Mal Wart. Who knew?)

(Sidenote: I was forced to buy a new car seat with: 1) only the selection provided in said Mal Wart and 2) NO prior research or comparison shopping. Let's just say this was a major "growth experience" for me.)

When I returned $100 dollars poorer, Sugar Bear was running amok in the van (remember, we just threw away the car seat) and Papa Bear mentioned something along the lines of "I think she's having a poop."

We commenced cleaning at that point, with me prepping the new car seat and disinfecting things, while Papa Bear triple bagged all the tainted items that had to make the drive home.

Finally, we were ready to install the car seat when Papa Bear notices that Sugar Bear has something on her leg. Then he says, " Oh my God, it's poop! She has poop all over her!" Now, mind you, it's been a good 15 minutes since that off handed comment about "I think she's having a poop" to now. And she's made several trips from the back of the van to the front as well as taken a seat in the new car seat. I take one look in the van and new car seat and realize that more Lysol wipes are in order. Papa Bear takes a hold of Sugar Bear while I wipe up her, the new car seat and the car. I then proceed to change her diaper.

On the ground.

In the parking lot of Mal Wart.

Lest you think I'm making this all up, Papa Bear deemed the event "picture worthy".

It's stories like these that made me start a blog.

Feel free to laugh. I still am.