Yesterday Rusty, Norah and I drove back from having Thanksgiving with my family in New Mexico. It was a lovely holiday and we returned filled to the gills with green chiles. I am never happier than when green chile essence is oozing out of my pores.

Nearly 75% of the 11 hour drive is on I-40 and since we have been driving the route about 2 times a year for 3 years, the scenery is increasingly familiar to us. The trip would not be quite the same without the Rose Leach sign in Oklahoma; the lonely trees and endless plains of eastern Oklahoma and western Texas; the leprachauns of Shamrock, Texas; the Biggest Cross in the Western Hemisphere!; the Big Texan restaurant with its promise of a free 72 ounce steak; the horrific weather of Amarillo, the stench of cows in Hereford, and the Allsup’s in Elida. These are the landmarks of our trek to and from New Mexico. Without them, I don’t know that I would be able to find my way home.

This trip however, I noticed another characteristic of that route. There is an incredible number of billboards for adult superstores. I counted at least 7. Christie’s Toybox, Adult MegaMart, and Fantasy Land all advertise their goods several times on I-40 and even though Christie’s Toybox and Fantasy Land sound harmless enough, almost like a good place to stop and let the kids stretch their legs, we all know that they are just cleverly named sex shops. And you should probably find another place to let your kids stretch their legs.

So my brain had been busy all day translating “Christie’s Toybox: 7 Miles!” into “Naked Shop!” and because of that I really cannot take responsibility for the fact that when I drove past the Recreation Department in our small Arkansas town and read “Adult Basketball Sign Ups!” I immediately thought, ‘Ew. Naked basketball.”

I blame Christie.

Another, more innocuous landmark of the trip is of course, McDonald’s. I don’t think it is possible to drive to New Mexico without stopping at McDonald’s to pee and get a cheeseburger. Its some kind of compulsion. The McDonalds’ along I-40 have seen some pretty bizarre sights, I’m sure, and we like to be sure to add our own little lunacies. For example, when Norah and I went to Roswell last summer we stopped at the arches to change a diaper and get some food. I thought it was just a routine diaper change, but when I pulled off her shorts, two adult sized handfuls of Cheerios came flying out the legs of her shorts and spewed around the bathroom stall. I, of course, left them where they were so that someone else could have the pleasure of trying to figure out how to clean up a hundred Cheerios in the big stall in the McDonald’s in El Reno, Oklahoma.

This time we stopped in Yukon, Oklahoma for the diaper and wardrobe change. This particular McDonald’s committed the cardinal sin of bathrooms and expected me to change my baby’s diaper without the aid of a changing table. Now, at my own house I change diapers on the floor because I think its easier but my floors are relatively clean and familiar. I draw the line at laying my daughter down in a puddle of unknown liquid at some bathroom on the interstate. That’s just nasty. Since Norah can obviously stand on her own now I didn’t panic. I simply unbuttoned her jammies and then pulled the tabs on her diaper so I could change it standing up. As soon as I pulled it off, she peed. And not just a little tinkle, but a full-on pee that left her standing in a nice warm puddle.

Norah is so awesome like that.

So anyway, we are back in Arkansas now. We are in the thick of transitioning Norah to a toddler bed, I am feeling the baby move like crazy, and tomorrow Rusty is going to sign up for naked basketball. I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving but maybe without pee puddles.

I am back. I suppose that is an announcement as much as a warning. I have a lot to write about. Amongst the clutter of ideas are subjects such as; a potential miscarriage, why underwear suck when you are pregnant, pregnancy and marriage, and much much more. I know, I am sure, I got ya with the first topic…no worries, I will explain soon enough. In the mean time let us discuss what I did when I was gone. While chanting “boundaries” in my head, I will simply say that I don’t love vacations. I just decided. I don’t love them, I barely like them. Here are a few randoms:

1. Pregnancy swimming bottoms may advertise that they stay up against your pooch, alas… they LIE! Resulting in your bottoms rolling down in the ocean so much that you think to yourself, “Screw it! I will just start a trend…”

2. Driving through Louisiana, Mississippi,Georgia, and Alabama results in very few “Jasmine Worthy” bathrooms. My creepy crawly meter kept blaring red alert as I tried to do the famous squat over several sketchy toilets.

3. Driving through aforementioned states also results in a large selection of confusing church signs, which make you sad and ask yourself, “where was I without Vintage?”

4. Driving eight hours in a vehicle pregnant is not an adventure… it is an effing nightmare!!

5. Sand is not lovely or romantic. Rather it is a cloud of tiny mercenaries that the oceans pelts you with in order to remind you, you are not as bad ass as you think you are.

6. When you sleep on a King sized bed and return home to your Queen sized bed (full of baby and husband legs sprawled about and you wonder how you are hanging half off the bed with a baby finger in your nose) it is okay to swoon and pray that God delivers you a King sized bed of your own.

7. NEVER NEVER NEVER never never never never think that it is a good idea to shop in a GAP outlet store. It results in a sad depression causing you to ponder why you don’t have a khaki and navy happy world with low prices where you live.

8. Husbands are great. Husbands that think their wives are sexy are great. Husbands that attempt to convince their wives that it would be a great idea to try and have sex in the ocean are dumb. They are also obviously unaware of the effect of salt water on the vagina. And so, one should continually deny advances of said husband no matter how “fun” he says it could be.

9. Heavy boobs + strapless bikini top= Baaaaad idea

10. It sounds cliche, but especially in my case, returning HOME is the best part of vacation.

♥ Jasmine