As many of you know, my family and I moved to Cape Elizabeth, Maine about two weeks ago. My husband was transferred to company headquarters and the idea of staying in NC without half of our income in this economy was just too scary to contemplate. So, after a whirlwind househunting trip in January, we started the move mid-February. I left with the kids to stay at my parents' house in Northern Virginia and Mike stayed behind to handle the movers and fix a few things around the house.
Being the Type A Virgo that I am, I planned and planned for the transition. I ordered myself a fancy Blackberry so I could be in touch with clients. I set deadlines with clients in January and let everyone know I'd be unavailable except via cell phone and email for two weeks. All seemed good.
Except, my Blackberry did not arrive in time. I was unable to check email at my parents' house. I was supposed to take Cleo, my 12-yr-old cat, with me to my parents house so she wouldn't be too stressed. But, she hid out while I was loading the car and disappeared on her nightly stroll. She reappeared later that same night.
Both Jack and Anya became sick at my parents' house, leaving me to cancel plans I had to visit with old high school friends I'd recently gotten back in touch with via Facebook. Poor Mike forgot to save himself a pillow and blanket from the movers and had to sleep on the bare floor.
He finally joined us that weekend in Virginia and we planned to leave Sunday morning on our 10 hour drive to our new home. In one SUV we had Mike, me, Anya, Jack, Cleo in her carrier and our two dogs, Hector and Eliza in the very back, their new dog bed laid on top of our luggage.
The first five hours went relatively smoothly, except my job as co-pilot included managing directions, tolls and making sure the kids had everything they needed (Cheetohs), left me tired and frustrated. But, things got much worse...
It started raining on the Jersey Turnpike, which forced us to slow down. As we got closer to NYC the dogs started get antsy. Then, out of nowhere a very foul smell seeped in. At first I thought it was Newark, which is notoriously smelly, but no.. Eliza had pooped. We were stuck in traffic on the Cross Bronx Expressway, with nowhere to stop. Jack lost his boopy (pacifier) and started screaming. Anya had to pee. The smell was so bad, I had to grab a bag and threw up. We were in bumper to bumper traffic, windows down in 20 degree weather, Jack screaming, Anya desperately had to pee, Cleo crying in her carrier, and me barfing.
Finally, AN HOUR AND A HALF later, we pulled over at a rest area in Connecticut. I prayed for a couple of solid logs in the back, but no, Eliza had diarhea all. over. the back. of. the. car. I took the kids inside to potty while Mike cleaned up. He's a good man, that Mike.
We decided to eat at the McDonald's inside the rest area and give the car time to air out. We finally relaxed and went out to the car. Eliza had jumped the back and was sitting in the driver seat. I opened the back door to let Anya in and saw that Eliza had pooped in her booster seat. Mike cleaned the mess up while I walked Eliza in the parking lot, and seriously considered leaving her there. Seriously.
But I didn't, and we got back in our smelly car and continued north. Maine or Bust! Around Massachusetts it started snowing. We figured it would stop the closer we got to the coast. Wrong. It only got worse. It was so bad on Interstate 95 in Maine that there we were the only ones on the road. I begged Mike to stop and get a hotel, but he was a man on a mission.
Finally, around 3 am (we had lost a few hours in traffic and poop clean-ups) we arrived in Portland. Except, we couldn't read the street signs because they were covered with snow. We stopped to ask a snow plow guy for directions, and I was too exhausted to be embarassed. I mean, here we were, the Beverly Hillbillies rolling up in the middle of a snowstorm in a stinky, packed car with barefoot kids and too many animals.
When we finally arrived at our new house, we blew up the air mattress and set up the pack n play and congratulated ourselves on "making it." Fifteen minutes later, the power went out due to the storm. We woke the kids up, got back in our stinky car and headed to the Holiday Inn. Of course we got lost.
The movers were on time the next day and Mike let us stay at the hotel while he handled the movers. But, Cleo was sick. She wasn't moving too much and she was crying. I thought it was the stress of the move. I tried to call a vet, any vet, but we don't have cell service here! Our phones, internet and cable hookup was postponed for 10 days due to the storm.
Poor Cleo. She died that night in her kennel, with her little paw stretched out of the carrier like she was begging for help. My poor Cleo. I'd had her in my life for 12 years, since college. She had seen boyfriends, a husband, kids, lived in 5 states with me... She was my little sidekick and I still can't believe she's gone. There will never be another Cleo, ever.
