So This One Time, When I Was Eight Months Pregnant, I Drove 11 Hours By Myself To Visit My Native People...

My baby sister and my foster brother both gradumacated the high school business. (Hence the long drive on my own.) I'm so proud of them, and can't wait to see what bigger and better things they go on to do! (They don't look excited but they really were. I promise.)

In order to be there to support them, I drove 11-ish hours across state lines to go home and visit my family. I'm kind of proud of myself for making the trip home by myself. (Or as "by myself" as it can be with Gummy Bear doing yoga in my ribs the whole trip.) I dealt with heavy rain, light rain, construction, stupid mistakes, construction, stupid drivers, and all the other fun things that come with traveling long distances in one day.

When you're driving such a long distance while largely pregnant, it's amazing how long you can go without using the bathroom. You know, since you're not moving around or anything. It's also amazing how embarrassing it is to get out of the car after you've mindlessly driven for 4 or 5 hours-- not only do you feel permanently mashed into a seated position, but you also have to walk waddle quickly to the nearest bathroom to avoid making the situation even more embarrassing.

I most certainly did NOT drive over 80 mph on the interstate. How dare you accuse me of such a thing! Blasphemous.

I'm grateful that I was able to visit my family for a week. Husband Man had a ton of tests on top of his normal homework, so we kissed each other goodbye and I went alone. It was nice to be able to spend all that time with my family-- I was able to help my amazing mom keep her sanity for a little longer, get caught up on what's happening to my siblings, go garage-sale-ing with Mama and my baby sister, go window shopping with my baby sister, boss around my brothers, and get my belly scritched by Mama and Daddy on multiple occasions.

Our wonderful Molly the Mormon Malibu can successfully hold 15 gallons of gas when she gets particularly hungry. I have decided that I never again want to see that much gas go in the tank at one time.
On a related note, I'm grateful for the guiding hand of the Lord who somehow got me forty-ish miles on one gallon of gas. Don't worry, I've learned my lesson. (PS- I'm a dunce.)

On the return trip, there was a lot of construction.
SD- 1 stretch.
WY- No less than 6 spots of construction on I-90. Half of them lasted for miles at a time.
MT- Montana really wanted to get on the construction boat, and so they put up signs in at least five different places saying there was road work when there really wasn't. In the sixth location they actually had torn up the road and were doing some blasting, but that was it.

I'm grateful for my parents, who are so willing to not only make sure Husband Man and I have the things we need, but also want to spoil us with things we want. Thank you, Mama, for the haircut. (I LOVE my haircut!!) Thank you, Mama (and my baby brother), who picked out an orchid for me to kill take care of. Thank you, Mama and Daddy, for purchasing tasty treats and spending time with me and listening to my stories and questions and for making me laugh. I miss you guys so much!

(And thank you, Husband Man, for being a bachelor for a week so I could be with them. I know you were lonely and slaved over homework the whole time, and I wish you could have had fun with us.)

Billboard wisdom:
"Wife Insurance - Marshall Jewelry"
"THE FLU - ruins date night."

I learned there's a huge golf course outside Rexy. Has that always been there...?

The last 30 miles of the trip are THE WORST. Especially when every guy within a five mile radius who also owns a trailer shows up to drive 15 mph under the speed limit.

The next time I see my native people, I'll have a baby in tow. (Like, for reals and not just this weird giant belly thing going on.)
THAT'S a weird thought.