Riding in cars with noise.

Given all I've had to say about the Captain's high energy levels, you would think that the Dad and I would, say, avoid things like 30 hours worth of road tripping within a 3 week period. But since I am (a) mediocre at this job and (b) a glutton for punishment it should come as no surprise that I am doing just that. So next week begins

The Mediocre Family's Epoch Battle to Travel (once again)

This time, it's personal.

First stop, southern France.

Now this should be fun. My very good friends, I'll call them the Scottish-Argentinian-Italians or the Satalian family for short, have been kind enough to open their luxurious French countryside rental to us. Now, I must be careful, as they are reading this, but I will admit that I have one or two worries. First, it is a rental villa with, um, nice stuff in it. In fact, the website describes it as a "superbly imposing 9th century domaine." If there's one thing the Captain could easily wipe out with one swift hand, it's a superbly imposing 9th century domaine. Not sure that childproofing is a big factor when designing a domaine. Second, the Satalian's are contemplating parenthood, and though the sweet Captain of last summer who visited them in Scotland and convinced them that parenting is the bee's knees is still at times good, I have great fears that he's liable to put them off parenting permanently. For more information, see my cousin's comment in yesterday's post. But for real, they were hooked when they spent time with him last summer and by all accounts will be as good at parenting as we are, as evidenced by this photo of them making him pound Scottish Whiskey.








I guess I just don't want to do anything to ruin that enthusiasm.

Now, our second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth stop will be a few days later when we tour southern Spain. This is where we've clearly gone crazy.

The Dad planned a fairly aggressive itinerary which includes Granada, Marbella, Gibraltar, Seville, Cordoba and Garrucha. This is a trip he has wanted for some time, despite my constant worries that it's too much for the Captain, and therefore us. So yesterday we came up with a compromise - we dropped Cordoba from the itinerary. Woo hoo, 2 less hours of driving. So all said we're going to be doing about 16 or 17 hours of driving on this trip, including days of touring hilly cities where the Captain will be trapped in the stroller. Thinking about getting one of those Hannibal Lecter devices. I'm not so worried about the beach days we've planned, it's the rest of it that scares me. First, I'm still suffering from Post Traumatic Chunk Syndrome from our little mishap a few weeks ago. Second, not exactly the comfort-mobile...it's a Ford. Third, we're trying to figure out what would be more irritating - listening to him scream for a 4 hour stretch or listening to kids music for a 4 hour stretch. I'm deeply conflicted.

Which brings me totally off the topic (as usual)...why is kids music so friggin irritating and why does it always pop into your brain at the wrongest of times? It is supremely hard to mourn at a funeral when you've got "Bob the Builder" title music running through your brain. Even worse is during sex. I assure you, nothing can ruin a sexy "moment" like suddenly hearing Goofy in your head singing out "Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggidy dog."

But alas, I do believe it's going to be a 4 hour loop of "Free to Be, You and Me" in the car. Which isn't all bad. Except when you're trying to make it with your man and you keep singing "William wants a Doll" in your head.