Going to California: Part I

In a brief bout of insanity and /or late evening drunkenness last summer, and after receiving a lovely wedding invitation from a childhood friend currently residing in California, I naively agreed to a mid-summer, cross-country vacation with Mama, Lili, Nana, and Papou. My family isn't built for flying, so roughly two weeks ago we boarded the Empire Builder bound for Portland, OR, where we would be temporarily residing with my godparents before renting a car and driving south to Sonoma and the nuptials. In preparation for our journey, and because the farthest Lili had ever traveled beyond Minnesota was Wisconsin, we spent weeks prior to our departure hyping the upcoming train ride. As a result, our living room floor has been strewn with highly elaborate and architecturally significant train track designs for weeks, and Lili has become intimately familiar with Thomas and his various freight and caboose friends. This strategy seems to have worked in our favor, though, as Lili took an immediate liking to the train and our painfully cozy "roomette".

North Dakota, Play-Doh, and my boobs, apparently.

Mama. riding backwards and close to hurling. Give it about twenty minutes.

Like any good mother, I packed Lili to within an inch of her life...and then made Mama carry it all. All told, I think we boarded Amtrak with approximately 72 bags, a car seat, a stroller, an Igloo cooler, a bucket of Play-Doh and an elaborate set of play costumes and wooden puppets. Needless to say, the adults of the group corked a bottle of wine as soon as the "All aboard!" sounded, and Lili set to scattering 56 bags worth of toys throughout our "room". I was certain Lili would clamor at the opportunity to stretch her legs and grab a breath of fresh air at those train stations that allowed for stepping outside, but she insisted that we "stay in sleeper car!" Not that we missed much by staying aboard. 

Next time, I'd really like to see North Dakota try harder. Really.

Our roomette was something of a modified sleeping car, equipped with bunk beds long enough to accommodate either a stunted seven-year old or a litter of kittens...but not at the same time. In theory, Mama drew the short straw by claiming the top bunk, which was located about three inches from the ceiling and required the attachment of a net to massive hooks suspended from the ceiling, lest you be tossed in to the sleeping car hallway during a particularly tumultuous stretch of  railroad track. This left me sleeping on the bottom bunk with Lili, who looked innocent enough while sprawled out during an afternoon nap. Cute even, you might say.

In a related aside, I'd like to take this opportunity to give a shout-out to all the parents out there who manage to embrace co-sleeping past infancy and into the toddler years. After sleeping with a two-year old for the past 15 days, I can pretty honestly say that it would be preferable to share a bed with a feral badger that has pitchforks for back feet and a raging case of halitosis. I love cuddling in bed with Lili in the morning, and we can really rock an afternoon nap together, but I'm certain that her tiny feet kicking me in the jaw every hour on the hour is not particularly good for our relationship. Or my alignment.

Thankfully, Mama did not require the use of her safety net (although the barf bag and Dramamine did make an appearance) and we were greeted in Portland by a cool breeze, oft-missed family, and a box of Voodoo Doughnuts. Deee-lish!