Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Family Vacation, Part I

So. Big sigh. We just got back from a little family vacation to Wyoming. I was so excited about it and excited for the kids to love it and to eat out, make smore's, laugh, get away and just party. I guess vacations are like labor in that you forget how horrible it can be and you get anxious to do it again soon after. Now, for starters, is it just the men that I know or do all men get angry getting ready for the road and the following oh, thirty minutes into the drive? We were actually right on time for our departure (which in itself is truly astounding) so I'm not totally sure what happened here.

I know there must be a clinical term for this syndrome. "Loading-Zone Self-Imposed Isolationist Anger" syndrome where they want help loading the car but then when you try to help you aren't doing it right and they get angry that they then have to do it themselves. Go figure. Or perhaps the "Late Departure Depression" syndrome; this is when you set a completely unrealistic goal for when you want to depart and it is not surprisingly ever met leading to an adult tantrum right as you get in the car to leave on your fun-filled, happy-go-lucky trip. This one never fails; never in my travel experiences have we ever left when we wanted to.

There is also the "Pre-Drive Testosterone Car Check" syndrome. This is when the man, being the real man that he is, piles upon himself the added obligation to at the last minute change the oil (on his own), air filters, rotate the tires, wash and wax and vacuum the car all the night before you head out. This issue is always compounded by the female version of this which is "The-House-Must-Be-The-Cleanest-It-Has-Ever-Been Disorder" (which similarly must be done the night before). Either way, this is where the real-life version of 'Clash of the Titans' happens in the home because Mr. Testosterone is secretly mad that the wife didn't just take the damn car to Jiffy Lube to get the oil changed, drive through the car wash and vacuum out the car herself - because honestly, she is the one home all day. On the other hand, Mrs. Estrogen has flames shooting out of her eye balls because the kids are running around the house like a scene out of 'Raising Arizona' and the man should be inside helping her clean and getting the kids packed (because why couldn't the man have dealt with the car stuff earlier this week?).

Or is it just "Trip-Induced Psychosis" which is simply that any time you get ready for a trip, the man goes nuts regardless of the circumstances. At any rate, this is always how the trip starts out and I don't know why I expect anything less. I'd add fun pictures to accompany this little diatribe but flaming eyeballs always prevent me from capturing these most thrilling of moments. More to come - that's just getting out the door.

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