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Route Sixty-Sicks

Last night I was talking to my friend Jorje on facebook.  You may have heard of her…   There is a virtual benefit thingy going on for her family right now, and it has gone viral!  Jorje has just given birth to a sweet baby boy who has down syndrome, and he is in the NICU and can’t come home yet.  So her interwebz family has banded together to get her the resources she needs to be near him as much as possible until he will be able to get home.

I wanted to help, and asked Jorje if there was anything I could do for her… And she asked if perhaps Hannah would like a little company.  So before I could think about it too much (and potentially talk myself out of it) I piled all the kids in the car at four this morning and headed off to Jorje’s house, three hours away.  The trip down was uneventful and then I got to see my bud, which was AWESOME~


Jorje and me… 

We picked up T and headed home again…  But the return trip was not so fun.

It started out ok.  We listened to music and sang and Hannah and T discovered they are twins of giant geekdom proportions.  And then Cooper started fussing.  And then he started to cry.  And then he vomited.  EVERYWHERE.  It was so bad.

But that wasn’t the worst part.  We were on a stretch of highway without ONE DAMN EXIT.  Seriously.  Cows and pastures as far as the eye could see.  The car smelled awful.  Cooper was freaking out, and I didn’t feel safe pulling over on the side of the highway.  So…  We waited.  Ten miles.

And there it was. Finally!  An exit sign!

We shouted with glee (whilst holding our noses!) and prayed that there would be a gas station at the end of the ramp.  There was.  One….  On a dirt road, amidst bare fields, and nothing else.  I pulled in, the minivan bounced and jostled over a gravel lot covered in knee deep potholes. And felt like I was in the beginning scene of a horror flick.  In front of me was a closed and barred gas station, with a tiny lean-to attached that proclaimed itself a liquor store.  It was the definition of dodgy.  I don’t know what they were selling, but I highly doubt it was liquor.

I walked up to the “store” hoping for a roll of paper towels or something.  There was one row of liquor bottles on a shelf and two creepy people lounging against a counter.  The woman looked up as I came in the door and said “yur kid puked huh?” and handed me  a plastic bag and a handful of napkins.  I hadn’t said a word- and I wondered if the only visitors they got were in the same predicament as me!  Hannah and I cleaned Cooper up as best we could, spotting each other when it got overwhelming (neither of us has a strong stomach.  I can handle anything but I draw the line at puke!) and once we were done I crammed the bag into the dumpster beside the building and we headed back onto the highway.

Only…….. There was no on ramp.  I had to travel sixteen miles down a farm road before I found my way back onto the highway.  I’m very thankful for my GPS today.

We finally arrived home around lunchtime, and everything is settled back to normal now, even with the addition of one extra kid.


7 Responses to Route Sixty-Sicks

  1. Wow, you actually just made the States sound worse than AFrica! (well, we know what to expect when we drive, so we carry all sorts of things to deal with these kinds of situations ourselves). Hugs to you!

  2. Wow, vivid description (more than you said earlier)… sounds terribly dodgy & creepy… probably best the van smelled of vomit. 😉

    Thanks again. Its about time Tyler got to do something fun!

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