Last Thursday our family took a little road trip to Oregon for a wedding. With an infant. In a pickup truck. On windy roads.
Now whenever Broden sees his car seat he lets out a little whimper and gives this face that says, "Oh PLEASE, not again." Very similar to the face Smalls displays when told to get into his kennel.
Other than spending 12 hours in the truck on Thursday, and again on Monday, we had a splendid time. It was no Disneyland for the kids, but it was paradise for me. Coming home, a depressing feeling washed over me once the fullness of the trees started dissipating. If you have never been to Nevada, let me give you a heads-up. It is desert. And not the pretty type of desert filled with cacti and desert flowers. The ugly type of desert. Filled with sagebrush and...well...sagebrush is about it. Hence the fact that sagebrush is Nevada's state plant. Sure, Lake Tahoe is only about an hours drive away, but how often are you going to drive an hour just to hang out in Tahoe. Maybe a handful of times during the summer. Less in the winter because the drive on those icy roads is terrifying. Send me to the coast of Oregon! Trees practically growing on top of each other. Cool ocean breeze that can be felt miles away from the beach. Oceanfront property for a fraction of the cost it would be in California. Amazing sunsets. Scenic drives. Seriously fresh seafood. GREEN!
Some of you are saying to yourselves, "Yes, but I don't think I could deal with the constantly overcast weather." It really isn't that bad. Out of the three days we were there, only one day was seriously overcast. And I know not many people are like this, but I highly enjoy overcast weather. When we get an overcast day, you have no idea how much energy I have. I feel like I could accomplish at least a hundred things that are on my To Do List, which is nearly endless.
Maybe that's because I grew up in the Arizona desert. Sunny days typically mean sweating your brains out. Therefore, sunny days mean lazy days, because if you move at all your underwear will become drenched in your butt sweat.
Moving on to more pleasant conversation.
Our Oregon get away consisted of visiting the Tillamook Cheese Factory. Utterly exciting. Original, I know.
Site seeing at Cape Meares.
Visiting the Portland Children's Museum.
And twiddling our thumbs to think of what else we could do that would entertain a teenager, a 7 year old, and an infant. Hiking or anything of that nature was out of the question since I am anti-papoose (every time I say this I feel like Maggie Gyllenhaal's character in Away We Go, but I assure you, I love strollers).
My one complaint about Oregon: the lack of diaper changing stations. I think we only visited one place that had one, and that was the Children's Museum, so I'm not even sure if that should count. I understand if places such as state parks don't have them. I wouldn't change my child in one of those restrooms even if they did have one. Heck, I feel like they are crawling with super germs that can jump onto my rear even when I hover. But you would think that restaurants, grocery stores, and other like facilities would have enough consideration for caregivers to add this one little amenity to their public restrooms. If it weren't for Kyle's persisting me not to, I was this close to changing Broden's rancid diaper on one of the Quiznos dining tables. Two tables away from a couple enjoying their toasted sandwiches. Agreed, not very fair to the happy middle-aged couple, but I was trying to prove a point. Instead I just loudly proclaimed how displeased I was and went just a tad into detail about what his diaper looked like inside.
I really must bring this to an end now though. I have quite a few emails and letters to write to establishments who do not accommodate to the needs of those with infants.