This is likely going to be the last post regarding the Road Trip of 2015 (unless Mr. Beetle makes a return appearance, in which case I’ll be posting his obituary).  I just finished putting a few things into the car, and cleaning out some of the trash (whilst keeping a wary eye out for the aforementioned Mr. Beetle … I’m certain he’s still in there, somewhere, and we’ll find him when I least expect it).  Katie and I are killing some time in the hotel room until leaving for today’s destination (Wichita, KS) primarily because we must first make a very important stop at Val’s to get some frozen pizzas, and Val’s doesn’t open until 11 (priorities, people).

We had an incredible day yesterday at the Henry Doorly Zoo.  I suspect that next year, after an African exhibit expansion is complete,  Henry Doorly will be the undisputed #1 on the Trip Advisor Zoo list once again.  While the zoo is very different from when I was Katie’s age (a sky lift, the Desert Dome and the Lied Rainforest, a sting ray beach where you can feed and touch sting rays), there are a lot of things that are the same:  the train, the sea lions, the hills (oh good GRIEF the hills …)  I missed the lagoon, with its countless Koi all clamoring for fish food and/or popcorn; as a child, I could not go to the zoo without stopping on that bridge to throw a few popcorn pieces over the railing, enjoying the frenzy as the Koi all clamored for a bite.  Katie enjoyed every exhibit (OK, maybe not the swamp part so much – the dark space, with alligators lurking in the waters, WAS a mite creepy).   I thoroughly enjoyed getting to see the animals through her eyes.

So I’m about to put Omaha in the rearview mirror and head back to Texas, traveling from my childhood home to Katie’s.  And like the reflection in a rearview mirror, Omaha is always in the background, sometimes up close and sometimes distant.  The familial ties that bind from Staffords, Kramers, and Barretts – all of whom I got to see this week; we commented last night over pizza how nice it is to get together for a visit that’s not orchestrated around a funeral (which, unfortunately, seems to be the stage of life we’re in).  The hometown ties that bind – my childhood home; my schools (yup, did a drive-by; they are the Millard South INDIANS thankyouverymuch, NOT the Millard South Patriots; I will probably never get used to that); the familiar signs of Bronco’s, Gorat’s, and La Casa; the trip along I80 from West Omaha into downtown and of course, the ever-present, ever-familiar zoo.

I have to admit to having a little bit of trepidation, embarking on this solo trip with Katie.  I love my daughter fiercely, but there are times when she drives me absolutely, completely, 150% bonafide crazy.  She’s got a strong willed streak – like Momma’s – and needless to say, our streaks sometimes come together in a not very pretty way.  Not to mention, for the girl with boundless energy, Katie can be unbelievably slow … usually when I desperately have to stop for a potty break and she is taking FOR-EV-ER to get out of the car!  🙂   Add to that the anxiety over traveling solo, with long stretches in the car without a copilot/backup driver, and I was a little nervous.

But it’s been an amazing trip.

Katie and I are making a girls only road trip to Nebraska. The origins of the trip were originally just to connect with some of my old college friends, but because I’ve got some extra vacation to burn, I thought, what the heck – we’ll take a whole week and head up there, visit with friends and family, check out the zoo, who knows what. (Plus, it’s one week less to pay for camps or childcare of any sort … although the hotel and gas expense will make camps look reasonable.)

So we load up our suitcases, a small cooler next to Katie with some drinks, a bag full o snacks (my mother taught me well), and a big cooler in the back (for bringing back frozen Valentino’s pizza!) We have lunch with Daddy and hit the road at about 12:30. Destination: Salina, KS.

And we CRUISE. Katie’s happy and content in the backseat with iPad, headphones, and snacks and nods off near Blackwell, OK. I’m staying awake and not having to stop to pee every five seconds in spite of the medium sized Whattaburger cup in the center console (note: everything is bigger in Texas … a WB medium is like a jumbo anywhere else). We don’t stop til we hit Wichita, about five hours up the road.

So stop in QuikTrip for gas, and I ask Katie if she wants a hot dog for dinner. (Don’t judge. It was that, OR a stop in McDonald’s in Salina where the food is equally gross, with the extra added bonus of Mommy having to kill time in the petri dish known as PlayLand.) We go in, make a pit stop, load up on food and drinks, and hit the road.

Katie opens her milk while we’re buzzing along at 75MPH and starts SCREAMING hysterically and crying … there is a GINORMOUS BEETLE IN HER CUPHOLDER.

Did you catch that I’m buzzing along at 75MPH?

So she’s totally freaking out, in hysterics, and I of course can do nothing. So I tell her to hang tight, I’ll pull off as soon as I can and we’ll take care of Mr. Beetle. (And I’m thinking, HOW in the HECK am I going to get a beetle out of the cupholder without losing my own s**t? Bug killing is in the Daddy Job Description. I know. I have checked.)

Next exit: We pull off; there’s nothing but a recycling plant on one side and an asphalt lot on the other with one dilapidated, possibly abandoned Ford Explorer and several potholes large enough to swallow a BMW Mini. But … what choice do I have, so I stop in the Lot of Death and hope there’s no meth-head hanging out in the Explorer. Katie’s hysteria is still there, although a bit tempered for the moment, because we’ve stopped and we’re going to take care of Mr. Beetle.

I get out, Katie gets out – and proceeds to tell me that the beetle was in the cupholder of her carseat. Which means two things:

One, in all likelihood, he snuck in there while I had her seat sitting on the garage floor. Not sure why that is relevant, but I was really wondering how he got in there.

Two, piece of CAKE for getting him out of there – remove the seat, turn upside down, open cupholders, he falls out, we squeal and possibly send him to his death underneath the soles of our shoes, and we hit the road.

Except … when I flip it upside down … no Mr. Beetle.