It was 9am. We figured we'd be home by 3.
The "What state are we in NOWs?" started immediately. As did the "Are we there yets?" Someone was always hungry/thirsty/about to pee if we didn't stop RIGHT NOW (despite the fact we had JUST STOPPED.)
I don't know how many times I had to unbuckle, turn completely around in my seat, and attend to someone's blanket/drink/DVD player/dropped item.
Needless to say, Hubby and I were both DONE.
About the same time as the traffic started backing up on I-95 in New York/Connecticut (on a Saturday afternoon - WTF?!), the boyz' silliness started. Fooling around, making odd (LOUD) noises, hysterical laughing and speaking in silly voices.
Did I mention that Hubby and I were DONE?
The car, which was totally organized and neat on our way down south, was now completely trashed.
I gave up and went to my happy place in my head. On a hammock, on the beach, drinking a fun drink, blissfully alone. Lalalala I can't hear you...
Meanwhile, behind me, chaos ensued.
Oh, and did I mention it was pouring rain? And that if I have to listen to another iCarly episode EVER AGAIN, I may hurt someone?
Regardless, we made it home. At 5pm.
So, to reiterate, we spent Friday driving from 6am - 3pm. And then spent Saturday driving from 9am - 5pm.
Silly us, huh? Thinking that we'd be all smart and "split up the drive" on the way back home.
I love my children. I love going on vacation. I love traveling with my children to go on vacation ONLY IF THEY'RE SLEEPING.