Moving, itself, is not fun. Where you are moving to, the opportunities available where ever you are going maybe fun and exciting, but the actual packing, looking for a new place, leaving the old place and all the cleaning in between is not fun. Then add a few sick kids. Awesome right?
For the past few weeks we have been looking for a new place to call home in hopes that we could be in said new place before The Dad starts his new job. All was well until we put an application in on a property. Then we were in the "waiting place." While in the "waiting place," a lot of thinking happens (or doesn't sometimes.) Thinking and worrying, in my case. Especially after the obligatory 3 day waiting period and still no word yea or nay. The I start getting antsy and begin to worry about a back up plan. As part of this back up plan, we decided to go look at a few more places late in the today.
Looking back there were signs that we should have stayed home: relator called while we're driving over to tell us two of the properties still have tenants and need more notice to be shown, two others do not allow pets (though why they don't make a note of that on the public pages I have no idea,) one other has been rented already, leaving only one property to see. (Which when we went wasn't even high enough on The Dad's list that I didn't get out of the car, I stayed and fed the Enforcer.)
So we see the ONE property and now everyone is hungry and a bit cranky so we head out for a nice dinner. (Mistake number two for the evening, we should have just gone to Chick-fil-a, but that's a post for another day.) Everyone eats a bit, though I might have been the only one who semi-enjoyed myself. Got everyone back in the car and headed for home.
Now, let me give you a few facts about the Bay Bridge. It is one of the longest over water structures in the world at 4.2 miles long. It is actually two side by side bridges. There is no where to pull over on the bridge or for over a mile after getting off the bridge. On this bridge is where PT began vomiting.
The Politician is hollering from the back seat "Stop, stop! She's Sick!" I immediately begin looking for a place to pull over, knowing full well there is no such place. And as the poor little girl empties her stomach the smell makes it's way to the front of the van. Vicious. Pink lemonade does not smell good on the way back out. Whoa. Though apparently it does not bother the Politician because he kept asking us to close the windows back up.
Luckily, I keep a change of clothes for everyone in the van (except the adults, though I've been meaning to change that because you never know when it would be good to have a spare shirt in the car.) We pulled over at the first gas station and cleaned PT off, changed her, and got as much out of the carseat as possible. It was here I was informed that the Politician had bug bites on his tush and I would need to see them when we got home. Glorious.
The remainder of our drive was fortunately uneventful.
Get PT in her bed and check out these bug bites of the Politician's. NOT BUG BITES. At first we think it might be some kind of rash, possibly poison ivy. Quickly, went to check PT and she's fine. The Politician has some kind of itchy blotches all over his legs, butt, back, arms and even one on his face. So he gets stuck in the tub with some oatmeal, while I freak out accordingly. We go through the whole day and evening and cannot figure out where he got this rash or what it is from. Our best guess is there was some thing at dinner with milk in it and he's having an allergic reaction. So he got a dose of benadril, some anti-itch cream and he catches a ride on the dreamland express.
All in all a terribly unproductive evening because in my inbox when we got home is a note from the realtor that our application has been approved. Awesome.
