The Exodus

Car packed, saying our goodbyes.

Road trips are like boxes of chocolate. You never know what you’re gonna get. In our case, we were embarking on an 8-hour version, broken up over two days (with an overnight stay in DC), equipped with a toddler in tow and all belongings necessary for a one-month “temporary” housing stay strapped to our roof.

All I can say is, OY GAVALT. This has been quite the 48 hours. We might as well be in a foreign country. In the last two days I’ve:

• Eaten Chick-Fil-A (despite my very vocal protesting, whining, and dragging of feet all the way to the counter that these people are all crazy religious zealot homophobes, I have to say, their chicken is dope-tastic and the kind, little old woman who comes around and offers to refill your sodas and teas is a pretty sweet fast-food touch.)
• Signed up for a Harris Teeter loyalty card. The hubs could not be more thrilled that his new, local grocery store can be referred to simply as “the Teet.”
• Listened to a rendition of “10 little monkeys” in which the monkeys fall out of a tree and are eaten by alligators. I suppose this is the southern version? Our northern tale has the monkeys simply falling out of their bed and bumping their heads and calling their pediatrician for advice.
• Been told that in order to transfer to a NC driver’s license, I will have to retake the road and written tests. Seriously, NC? #FML
• Driven past more Romney bumper stickers than I care to count, leading me to shout obscenities through my windshield.
•  Experienced a Target twice the size of the one back in Mount Kisco. TWICE. I didn’t think that was even possible, but it is. This Target? Stocks everything from produce to wine to craft beer. If ever I had trouble in the past leaving Target without spending under $200, I am in serious, scary, take-away-the-Target-card territory now.
• Realized that toddlers don’t adjust to change as well as you might think. They are acutely aware of their surroundings, and a move like this can (and has) resulted in a reverting of many manners, rules, and behaviors we thought we had left in the rear view. Like biting. And falling on the floor and writhing around like a lunatic. And not napping. The latter of which is going to be a deal-breaker for my productivity this week. Any tips on handling this transition with the Little? I’ll pay for this advice in dry goods. See previous bullet: I’ve got a Target card and my Target sells wine…