On The Road Again...

Well, we took on a bit of a challenge last weekend.  We decided to take Kiki on a 4.5 hour car trip.  Why, you ask?  Because we're masochists?  Because we decided we were having it too easy as parents and needed a challenge?  Because we're idiots?  Well, yes, but it was mainly because we wanted to go skiing... on the warmest February weekend on record.  64 degrees and sunny is perfect ski weather, right? Mmmm, slushy.  


Anyway, through our struggles, failures, mishaps, and failures (there were enough to merit inclusion twice) we did learn a few lessons in road tripping with a 1 year old that I am now going to attempt to pass onto you, dear reader.


Tulibo's 6 Step Guide to a Relaxing and Trouble Free Road Trip with a 1 Year Old:


Step 1)  Leave the child at home.  Seriously, they aren't going to remember the trip anyway.  You can always tell them they came, they're not going to know.  If you're really concerned just invest in Photoshop and you can drop them into a few vacation pics to prove they were there.  


Step 2) So, you've ignored step 1 and brought your child along.  Congratulations, and welcome to hell.  But hey, this isn't so bad.  You're on the road, they're napping in the back, you're making good time.  Uh oh.  They woke up.  Now, you may think you should stop, change their diaper, feed them, and continue on your merry way.  Resist this urge.  Remember, this is not a human you are dealing with, this is a toddler.  Once you free them from that carseat they will not happily return.  At least not without an hour of running and playing first.  Therefore, if you have any desire of arriving before the end of your vacation, resist the urge to stop at the first stirring.  Put some miles in while you have the chance, push on until they're making their unhappiness known from the back seat, because soon enough you'll find yourself spending more time in a fast food restaurant than is healthy.  Which brings us to...


Step 3) Don't stop at a fast food restaurant.  Yes, on previous 'pre-child'  (a.k.a fun) road trips, Burger King was your best friend.  Well, no longer.  Now you have a little person who wants to walk around, crawl a bit, and generally touch (and taste) everything within 30 inches of the floor.  Now, the next time you're in a fast food establishment, take a good look at the dining area floor.  You know what, just go ahead and lick it.  Oh, don't want to?  Then don't let your child either.  Now, I can see you out there thinking to yourself "I don't eat fast food, I am an evolved and sophisticated traveller.  My body is a temple, that's why I eat at Applebee's/O'Charlie's/Houlihans/Chuckie McFoodieStuff's/Uncle Fattie's House of Burgerdogs/etc."


Well, Mr. Smartypants (or Mrs. or Ms. or Dr. as the case may be) how do you plan on letting your child run around for the 30 to 60 minutes it is going to take for them to burn enough energy to accept once again being strapped into the car?  Do you think the waitress is going to allow you to sit and sip on your water for 40 minutes after your check is paid?  She's got to get new butts in those seats, her tattoos aren't going to pay for themselves you know.  


No, when you are traveling, be on the lookout for yuppie-ish enclaves, places where you can leisurely enjoy a meal and sit for a while afterwards undisturbed, where they have a beverage menu rather than a soda fountain, the kind of place where the floor may have been cleaned since 1973.  I'm talking about Panera/Starbucks/Hipsterville Cafe/etc.  There you will find you can enjoy a relaxed lunch while the little one toddles around, pleasant staff that are just pleased you won't be taking the table to mooch free wifi and "work on your novel" while making your $3 latte last all day, and nice touches like floors that aren't sticky, bathrooms with changing tables that haven't been ripped from the wall (assuming they were ever installed to begin with), and toilet paper that is not reminiscent of sandpaper (hey, mom and dad need pampering too).  


Step 4) Don't rely overmuch on technology.  You may have the car decked out with all the latest gizmos and widgets; a rear seat DVD infotainment unit, a white noise generator, and the latest in GPS military spec satellite radar/lidar guidance systems.  But one faulty battery, one missed signal, one overeager guidance shortcut and you can find yourself listening to the sweet sound of static radio harmonized by your screaming child as you bounce along a dark, rutted, and icy gravel "shortcut" in the middle of nowhere.  Trust me, I've been there:

Do yourself and your child a favor, bring a couple nice, simple, non-electronic toys.  Just in case it all goes to hell at least you can cuddle a doll when your car loses a wheel and you have to wait in the freezing rain for a local hillbilly to find and rape you.  


Step 5) Upon arrival, do whatever is possible to maintain your child's habits.  If they always eat dinner at five, by god, get that food in them by five.  If they take two naps a day, plan your schedule around it.  If they always sleep in a room of their own and you find yourself in a single room... well, sometimes you need to improvise...

Look, I'm not necessarily proud that we had our daughter sleep in the bathroom, but the point is she did sleep.  Better a sleeping baby by the toilet than a crying baby in a palace.  Hmm, I think that may be the name of my next childcare guide.  


Step 6) Please, just leave your child at home.  Seriously.  Just look how easy it is to use photoshop to create lasting family memories of your "together" time.  


Here's Kiki skiing with us in Utah:

Here's Kiki enjoying the sun in Costa Rica:

And here's Kiki at our wedding, 3 years before she was born.

Tasteless

Mayhap you've heard of this new phenomenon, the supertaster.  These are people who have ultra sensitive taste, caused by a surplus of fungiform papilla, a.k.a. taste buds.  To such individuals, everything tastes, well, more.  Salt is saltier, meat is meatier, chees-its are, as difficult as this is to believe, even cheesier.  Apparently, this is a 'scientific' explanation for why people are "picky" eaters.  To which I say bullshit, eat your fucking vegetables and quit your bitching.  Yeah, it is going to be fun when Kiki starts refusing foods, no?

In other flavor news, there's a new taste as well!  Nevermind sweet, salty, bitter, or sour.  No, now there's umami.  It is sometimes described as delectableness, deliciousness, or savoriness, which is not really helpful at all, but supposedly soy sauce and meat are oozing umami out of their pores.  

In short, food marketers hadn't had a new taste to sell in several decades, so they mined the internet and found that the Japanese had another taste name, and now they're using it to try to sell food.  Think about it, seeing "Soy Sauce, it's liquid salt" doesn't make you want to rush out and buy some, but "Soy Sauce, it has umami" makes you feel sophisticated and intelligent for knowing what the fuck they're saying, so you should probably buy a gallon or two.  

But this is just the tip of an approaching taste tsunami.  Soon we will be told we must pay attention to the tastes of spicy and juicy, then ooey and gooey, and shortly we will be told to try to taste the flavor crystalization and bubbaliciousness of our dinners.  I, for one, can't wait.  Partly because I am a total sucker for marketing (New AND Improved? I should probably buy two then), but mainly because I am what is known, apparently, as a non-taster, though if Latin taught me anything, it should be subtaster, but maybe that just sounded like an unfortunate Subway job description.  

Though it is a bit depressing to learn that this handicap of mine has a name, and a grammatically incorrect one at that, it does explain a lot.  Like why I enjoy coffee the consistency of motor oil, scotch that causes your eyebrows to singe and fall out, and, periodically, chewing on dirty diapers. They're packed with ooey, gooey, and bubbaliciousness.  Not to mention flavor crystals out the ass, no pun intended.  

A Rose By Any Other Name

Much like Eskimos and snow or prepubescent boys and breasts, my wife and I tend to generate lots of names for the things we love.  We've had many names for each other and our pets, but then our daughter came along and, well, we went all stupid.  Thus, our daughter, Akira Elise, has been alternately called:

Kiki

Keeks

Keekster

Doodle

Monster Mash

Pumpkin Pie
Squishy Face
Tiny Dinosaur
Baby Bear
Sy Snoodles
Peach Face
Squeakers

Pretty much anything except Akira.  Actually, everything but Akira.  I think we're mathematically more likely to call her Abraham Zebbediah Jackson than Akira.  But you've got to admit, Zebbediah is fun to say.  


Yeah, so she's never going to figure out what the heck her name is, but we figure if we give her enough nicknames than any noise she hears will sound like one of her names.  That way we can just yell anything and she'll respond, which will be helpful if I ever have a stroke.  I'm just trying to plan ahead here.