My Trip to Bend and an Encore Performance of Pooping on the Side of the Road

Yeah, that's right. There was another episode of carside pooping. I don't mean to overshare, really I don't, but who has this kind of luck? It was bad enough to deal with once, but twice in two trips? I may never again leave the house.

But before I enthrall you with tales of my son's bodily functions (as it seems I am wont to do), let me say that our visit to Bend was a lot of fun, a little crazy, and totally worth the chaos that ensued on the return voyage. I hope you are enjoying all of this foreshadowing...

Melanie's boys are roughly the same age as mine, so there was a lot of playing, incoherent screeching, and duking it out over toys. But there was also some male bonding, too.

Thank god for the double strollers. It was great to have all four kids totally contained at the same time. We paraded our way through town and stopped to play at the park for awhile until it got too hot. I know! I know! I complained about the rain for so long and now I am complaining about the heat! Enough already! But still, it was hot.



We thought about going to the public pool, but when the storm clouds started moving in we decided to stay home and fill up the kiddie pool in the backyard. This was probably a good move since I really can't imagine how we would have corralled/supervised all four of the kids at a public pool with deep water and a diving board and a slide. What were we thinking?

So we turned on the sprinkler, filled up the pool, had dinner on the deck and let the kids play. It was great- they chased each other around with the lawn mower, slid down the slide headfirst into the pool, devoured corn on the cob, peed in the trees together, shared popsicles, and Jack and Peter bonded the way that only three-year-olds can.





Melanie and I were thrilled that the kids were entertaining themselves so well, so we celebrated with a round of happy hour beers. We were toasting ourselves and our backyard water park ingenuity as we kicked back in the deck chairs and sipped our drinks. Oh it was a lovely time, that hour or so before the mud making began.

It all started with a cup of water from the pool that somebody dumped into a large planter on the deck. Suddenly Jack, Peter, and Sawyer were pooling their collective resources to create a gigantic batch of mud, which they referred to as "monkey soupy". I guess you have to be three to get it. So the mud making started and at first it was funny, as in "Oh look, the kids are making mud." "Oh yeah, how funny. Can I get you another beer?". But soon enough it turned into full on mud mayhem and then it got to the point where the thought of cleaning them up was so daunting that we actually encouraged the mud making so as to prolong the inevitable outcome. Eventually it got dark and we had no choice but to hose them down and put them to bed.


Melanie and I stayed up late and sat under the stars for a long time that night. When I eventually made it to bed I crashed hard. Sometime during the night I thought I heard something that sounded vaguely like puking coming from Sawyer's crib. But he didn't cry out so I rolled over and went back to sleep. The next morning he woke up covered in barf, limp, feverish, and generally pathetic. Melanie and I decided that the best thing for me to do would be to pack up and head home immediately, lest this plague of vomiting strike down the entire crew. Can you even imagine four puking kids?

So I tried to keep Sawyer outside as he heaved and I frantically loaded up the car. We said a quick goodbye and then got on the road. Sawyer immediately fell asleep and Jack was playing quietly with his laptop when I saw a sign that read "Event Ahead. Expect Delays." Sure enough the traffic came to a dead halt between Bend and Sisters. We crept along at a snail's pace.

Traffic was bumper to bumper, but the scenery was incredible. The pastures, the horses, the mountains. Central Oregon is a beautiful place. I snapped a few photos of the landscape as I waited for the line of cars to move forward.

Shortly after this photo opportunity, Jack informed me that he needed to poop. I started to laugh. Surely you jest! We were sandwiched between two cars and there was literally no shoulder for me to pull over onto because the road is basically lined with these pastoral ranch type homes. I told him that he had to wait. He began to squirm. Then he started to cry. What was I supposed to do? Here's what I did:

I pulled over as far as I could and put my hazards on. I pulled Jack out of the car and yanked his pants off and essentially let him poop in somebody's front yard with about a mile of traffic watching. This was not one of my finer moments as a human being.

The deed done, I loaded Jack back into the car and turned off my hazards. And guess what? Traffic was starting to slowly inch along and the a-holes behind me wouldn't let me back in. Can you believe it? And they of all people had had a front row seat for what I had just had to do! What the hell is wrong with people?

Finally I got back on the road just in time for Sawyer to wake up and puke all over himself. Did I stop? No. I just kept on driving with a vomit covered baby all the way through Sisters and past that damn quilt show (really? all that traffic for a quilt show??) and all the way home. The temperature rose and so did the stench, but I drove on without stopping until I reached our house. I don't think I've ever been so happy to pull into our driveway.

But then I was locked out! I had to climb in through the window! And then later that day my phone died! And then three days later Brent and I both got the stomach flu! (Incidentally, Sawyer made a miraculous recovery and was back to his usual antics by that afternoon.)

Did I mention that I might have some bad luck? If this is karma, I wonder what I did...

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