I have emerged from the gaping maw of hell scalded and smoldering. (you missed me didn't you - sorry about the smell - it'll wear off in a couple of days)

We all know I didn't want to go in the first place. According to this woman - who is a demon made flesh (I can tell by the leathery wings she keeps tucked under her shirt) - I am damned to hell no matter what I do. I could walk around all day giving blankets and food to the homeless, curing cancer and whatever else, but because I didn't do it with bare feet over glass shards, I'm hell bound. PPPPPTTTTTTHHHHHH! Yeah, whatever. I'm hell bound anyway hon. I'm just going to have a little more fun than you before we get there.

The trip all by itself is a pain. It takes 5-7 hours, one way, depending on how often you stop and traffic. Doing it with a 7 yr. old and an infant just puts a whole new spin on the fun. Fifteen minutes into the drive we get this:

Baby - WWWAAAA WAAAAA WWWAAAAA WWWAAAA WWWWWWAAAAAAAAA
L - I'm bored and I think I dropped my gum on the carpet.
Hubby (looking at me with eyes that are half pleading and half murderous) - Could you please do something?
Me - I am. I getting the straight razor out as we speak.
Hubby - Don't cut the carpet!!
Me - Carpet? Who said it was for the carpet? I'm ready to open my veins right now buddy.

What really kills me about this is that Hubby and I went over budget this past Christmas to get this child a portable DVD player. We bought this thing so that she would not complain on the very long trips to the North Carolina mountains and down the North Carolina coast (where our families live). We were both so disgusted we couldn't stand it.

When we finally hit the mountains in Virginia, the car started smoking like we had just won a Nascar race and decided to burn tires at the finish line. Lovely. My rearend was clenched so tight I could have made diamonds. It was a mixed blessing when we finally pulled into his parents house - and I mean mixed - I would almost rather be stranded in a rainstorm with my kids than be at that house.

Judge Superior had dinner ready when we got there. We all gathered around the table, joined hands, prayed and then they started singing "Onward Christian Soldiers" - which was new. Okay... they really didn't start singing...but you could feel the verses of that hymn weighing you, measuring and finding your very existence lacking in just about everything - oh wait, that wasn't the hymn, it was her. It was creepy. It was like she had a whole new weapon to make me feel uncomfortable. Do you want to know the sad part? The really, really sad part? The sad part is, it just got worse from there. Yes, really - no shit.

I'll just give you a brief highlight.

We went shopping for an Easter dress for L. ( I was unable to do it earlier in the week, so I had to wait until we got there.) OH GOD! It was terrible. I'm submitting the whole experience as a new Horror flick idea to Hollywood later this week. I'll have to beat the screen writers off with a hugely grotesque and twisted stick - you know - like the one Judge Superior uses on me.

We all crowded in to the extra big fitting room at the end of the little hall so we could all fit in. While L was trying on the 350 million dresses she had picked out, C had crawled under the partition to the next dressing room, just enough so he could peak under and see the naked lady nextdoor. Of course, I thought this was typical male behavior and didn't freak out. It's instinct, like breathing. Men just have to do that sort of thing or explode (notice how I portray myself to be the virginal and innocent here). My only thought on the subject was "Kid, you are way to young to start this stuff." Judge Superior however, just about had a coronary. Now granted, I didn't see the woman, but I don't think Super Baby will suffer any permanent damage from his little "peeping baby" episode, but if you heard Judge Superior screeching you would have thought judgment day had come. "Get outta there this minute. Now you shouldn't be doing stuff like 'at." Good grief.

To say the lease I was more than ready to leave The Little House That Hell Built.