Sabans or Griswalds?

The dreaded road trip.  We all do them.  We were forced into them as a child.  We inflict the same pain on our own children.  Although we no longer let kids sit in the back of the station wagon, facing the car stuck behind you, without seat belts, the insanity is still there.
We do tons of road trips.  We drive to Austin.  We drive to Illinois.  We drive to just about everywhere in between.  So, you'd think the 3 hour drive to Austin, would be just a normal drive by now.  Nope.  Not even close.  We left Friday afternoon to spend a weekend at grandma's.  The boys were dying to go and Nick and I loved the prospect of getting out kidless for a while.  We packed so light, I didn't even need to fold the back row of seats down to fit all the luggage.  Yay!  Victory #1!  Pick up the boys from school, get Nick off the phone and we leave the house only 15 minutes later than I wanted to.  Yay!  Victory #2!  I usually have to drive, or we take separate vehicles because Nick will stop and see customers on the way down, but today he's driving us!  Yay!  Victory #3!  Wonder when my luck will run out.....
As we are heading down I-35, approaching the mess of highway that is downtown Dallas, I start to dial in for a conference call.  Nick is dodging cars and trying not to get us killed.  Then we hear Henry say from the back, "I don't feel so good".  We both say, "Stop reading your book." because we are sure he's getting car sick.  10 seconds later, Henry starts to cry.  As I turn to look back at him, I see his mouth open and a brown spew of pizza bits, corn and milk come flying out of his mouth!  I have to admit, I have that moment where the first thought is, "OMG!  My car!!!" I mean, it's easy to get puke off a kid.  But, milk barf, on the floor of a car in TX heat...you might as well torch the car and start over.   He stops, breathes, then starts round 2.  Nick manages to get us off the highway, and we pull into a pretty large gas station.  Henry is still barfing and crying.  Now Hud is screaming "I don't want to see the barf!" as he's looking right the crime scene that has unfolded 24 inches from him.  Nick yells at Hud, "Don't look at it!".  Henry is still puking.  He's like an oil well or something.  I send Nick into the store for wipes, paper towels.....anything that we can use to clean up 12 pounds of puke from Henry and the car.
Now,  this is about the point when I realize we have stopped in the barrio.  Crap.  I have to get Henry changed.  Hud is hanging half way out of the window, squealing because right next to the parking lot is a donkey farm or something. He finds this really impressive and it did keep him occupied.  So, I start taking Henry's shorts off, that are so soaked, they are dripping.  He's freaking out because people might see his junk.  I yell, "I don't care!  You are not riding in the car covered in sick or naked!" I don't think any of the people in the cars around us even understood.  Now, Hud is screaming that he wants to go pet the donkeys.   Who in the hell has 15 donkeys next to a gas station in the city?????  Did Juan Valdez move north???  I get Henry changed and realize I have a beach towel in the back of the car for just such a crisis.  I manage to wipe up as much of the barf as possible.  At this point, Nick comes back from the gas station with a container of Armor All wipes.  What????  I appreciate that he's concerned about the leather and all, but those will not kill germs.
Me:  Why did you get these???  I need disinfectant wipes!
Nick: This is all they had.
Me: They didn't even have baby wipes?
Nick:  No, this is it.  They sell car stuff, beer and there's a lady out front selling corn in a cup.
Me:  What?
Nick:  Yeah, corn.  In a cup.  I thought about getting some for Dooter.
Me:   Well, was she Mexican?  (I don't know why it mattered, but for some reason, if she was Mexican, it would not seem so weird).
Nick: Yeah, but why does that matter?
I really wanted to go check out the lady selling corn.  What kind of corn?  Popped?  Roasted?  Out of a can?  Do people actually buy it?  But, these questions will all have to wait for another day.

I give up and we all load back up and are ready to head out.  Again.  But, now the car smells like old milk and boy feet.  Hud is pinching his nose screaming, "What's that smell?".  We roll down the windows and head down the highway at 70 mph with our heads hanging out.  We look like dogs.  We roll the windows back up after a bit and the smell is still there.   Just as strong.  Back down the windows go.  Luckily for us, this is about the time we roll into Waxahachie, where earlier in the week, a chemical plant blew up and they still had the smell of burning chemicals in the air.  That's one way to get the vomit smell out and thankfully, we did not pass out from the fumes.
I always feel like we give the Griswalds a run for their money.  Vacations.  Holidays.  Whatever.  But, until I have a dead aunt tied to the roof, I will gladly not worry about that victory.