So, we're moved in, we're unpacked. Let's enroll No. 1 in school. Off we go to what I thought was the nearest elementary school. Turns out, certain streets in our subdivision actually go do the new elementary school, which is closer to our house. Yes! We can walk to school every day! So I go into the office, present all required documents, and fill out paperwork. The very nice lady at the front office desk informs me that No. 1 needs a TB test. "We got those done before we left Texas. It's on her shot record." Here is yet another moving to Hawaii glitch that is not posted ANYWHERE on any web site about moving to Hawaii. It's not even on the Hawaii Health Department website: YOUR CHILD MUST HAVE BOTH THE DATE THE TB TEST WAS ADMINISTERED AND THE DATE IT WAS READ ON THEIR SHOT RECORD!!! The reading date and result are not enough. By the time we are informed of this little glitch, it is too late in the day on a Friday to call Texas and have them fax me the information. A lot of phone calls and a week later, my six-year-old is finally allowed to go to school.
We have friends coming to town for a birthday party. We have no sitter. We have no friends we can ask to baby sit. I can't even get an appointment to sign the kids up for daycare until the middle of November. Swell. So I call my mom. She volunteers to come out to Hawaii (I had to twist her arm really hard), and watch the kids during the birthday party. AWESOME!!
Mom and her hubby come out to visit. We spend our time driving around the island looking around. We go see the Pali lookout, which is a really neat way to see the Windward side of the island. Mom purchases a really neat basket made on the spot by a guy. Pretty cool. We drive up to the North Shore to check it out. Get to see some turtles in the surf. Very cool. We even visit the Dole plantation, which is the biggest tourist trap ever. Mom gets to witness the Japanese tourist effect, where they stop me to take pictures of the kids. We get to go to the birthday party without the kids. Our first kid-free day for two months!
We had a blast at the party. I got to walk on the beach with my friend Paige. She spent most of our walk complaining because there was no sea life in the tide pools. Just as she was saying something to the effect of 'this sucks' I turn around a see a monk seal laying no less than 30 feet from where we're standing. Many pictures ensue, and we try to encourage some local kids NOT to poke the seal with a stick. All in all, it was great.
We're settling in pretty well. Futon space is available at our house any time. Come on out!
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The Movers Arrive
We finally got a house, and our household goods are arriving, like, NOW! The movers arrive at our new digs bright and early the next morning. A crew of just three guys shows up with two trucks. They inform me that another crew will be there with another truck of stuff later. Holy cow, I forgot we have this much stuff! So the craziness of unloading all our worldly possessions begins.
Now, our new house has parking in the street in front of the house, which is taken up by all the neighbor's cars. So the movers pull around to the back of the house, which means that all our stuff has to be brought into the garage or through the back gate, across the back yard, and then inside the house. I am so glad I don't work for a moving company. Eight hours later, all of our stuff is in the house. My dining room table has two HUGE gouges across the top, my king-size headboard is now missing a finial, and the baby's changing table/dresser is now missing all four legs. All the glassware is intact, and the packers even made sure that not a pencil was broken (they used two sheets of wrapping paper to wrap 5 pencils. Really.) I'm slightly miffed about the large furniture damage, but hey, we're in Hawaii.
We get all the beds set up, and we all get to spend a peaceful night in SEPARATE ROOMS!!! I can't hear it when No. 4 rolls over in her sleep. I can't hear it when No. 1 jumps on No. 2 and makes her squeal like a pig.
As I'm getting ready to drift off, there is a large BANG. Turns out we live about 2 miles as the crow flies from the Coast Guard air station. They use pyro to keep the birds off the landing field. Every night. After 9 p.m. Joy.
Now, our new house has parking in the street in front of the house, which is taken up by all the neighbor's cars. So the movers pull around to the back of the house, which means that all our stuff has to be brought into the garage or through the back gate, across the back yard, and then inside the house. I am so glad I don't work for a moving company. Eight hours later, all of our stuff is in the house. My dining room table has two HUGE gouges across the top, my king-size headboard is now missing a finial, and the baby's changing table/dresser is now missing all four legs. All the glassware is intact, and the packers even made sure that not a pencil was broken (they used two sheets of wrapping paper to wrap 5 pencils. Really.) I'm slightly miffed about the large furniture damage, but hey, we're in Hawaii.
We get all the beds set up, and we all get to spend a peaceful night in SEPARATE ROOMS!!! I can't hear it when No. 4 rolls over in her sleep. I can't hear it when No. 1 jumps on No. 2 and makes her squeal like a pig.
As I'm getting ready to drift off, there is a large BANG. Turns out we live about 2 miles as the crow flies from the Coast Guard air station. They use pyro to keep the birds off the landing field. Every night. After 9 p.m. Joy.
Settling In...Sorta...
We arrived in Honolulu relatively unscathed. Got checked into our hotel rooms at the Hale Koa hotel in Waikiki. We spend a couple of uneventful days visiting the beach, the Bishop Museum, and just lounging around. Then closterphobia sets in. We've been in and out of hotel rooms, other people's houses, minivans, trains, and airplanes for almost a month now, and I am in serious need of a room that is not connected in any way with the one that our children are sleeping in. Not to mention that it would be nice to shower and pee without an audience. We're having to pay out of pocket for all of our meals, and it's needless to say, expensive. Our hotel rooms are equipped with a mini fridge, but no available cooking surfaces.
So, in the effort to get us out of the hotel, I take the initiative and call the housing office at Ft. Shafter. Nothing available for three months. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. So I called Schofield Barracks. Nothing. I then call the Navy, and the Marine Corps. Again, nothing. No housing availability whatsoever. Great. So, I get on my trusty laptop, pay $9 to get on the internet in our hotel room (boo), and begin searching for houses.
The house search takes THREE DAYS! We looked at exactly zero houses in the first two days. We burned up two tanks of gas driving all over the island looking at houses. If you've never been to Oahu, housing here is very very different. Not only is housing here extremely expensive, its, well, small. The first several houses we drove by were a combination of tiny, ugly, dirty, nasty, or in bad neighborhoods. And another little hitch: people don't put FOR RENT signs up here. You either have to be an internet guru or actually know someone who knows someone. As we're sitting in the driveway waiting on another realtor to show us another too-small house, I use my trusty blackberry in a last ditch effort to find something worth it. Bingo. Two houses pop up. So, I call. First phone number is disconnected. Second phone number goes to voice mail. I leave a message, figuring it'll be another two days of nightmarish hotel hell before we get a call back. The house is an ugly orange-sherbet color in the picture, and honestly doesn't look that appealing, but at this point I'm about ready to camp on the beach. While we're still waiting (realtor is by now 15 minutes late), my phone rings. It's the realtor for the other house. He happens to be at the property right now, and he can show it to us now. So, we ditch the too small house with the late realtor for the possibility of another prospect. We program the address into the new GPS, and off we go. (BTW, I'm still a HUGE GPS fan). The GPS guides us down a small, two-lane road. At this point, my husband begins to question my real estate sanity. "Where the hell are you taking us?" he asks. My sarcasm kicks into overdrive, and I reply,"Yes, I have found us a beat up trailer in the sticks." I receive the traditional husband grunt in reply. Our little two-lane road passes a really smelly water treatment plant, then a golf course. Other than the smell, this is looking promising. The two lane road comes to a stop light on a four-lane, manicured road. The houses are....nice. There is a park.....there is mowed grass....there are palm trees lining the streets....there are crosswalks.....A couple of turns later and we arrive at the orange-sherbet house. From the street, it's not so orange. It's more of a light terra cotta. The neighborhood is quiet. In fact, there's not much noise at all. The front door is standing open, so we herd the kids in the house to look. Brad, the realtor, is waiting to greet us. The house is cool, calm, and has a vaulted ceiling in the entryway. There are two living spaces, a dining room, kitchen with an island, office space upstairs, four bedrooms and 2 and a half bathrooms. AWESOME!!! This is the first and only house we've actually be inside in our three day search. It's perfect. Other than the fact that it's 30 minutes from Ft. Shafter, where my husband will be working. My glorious husband knows that I have reached my hotel room limit, and gallantly takes one for the team. He agrees to commute every day so we can get out of the hotel. Bless you, honey!!! We sign the paperwork, pay our deposit, and hustle back to the hotel to begin packing.
When we arrive back at the hotel, there is a message from the movers. Our household goods are available for delivery the next day. Good thing we found a house, huh?
So, in the effort to get us out of the hotel, I take the initiative and call the housing office at Ft. Shafter. Nothing available for three months. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. So I called Schofield Barracks. Nothing. I then call the Navy, and the Marine Corps. Again, nothing. No housing availability whatsoever. Great. So, I get on my trusty laptop, pay $9 to get on the internet in our hotel room (boo), and begin searching for houses.
The house search takes THREE DAYS! We looked at exactly zero houses in the first two days. We burned up two tanks of gas driving all over the island looking at houses. If you've never been to Oahu, housing here is very very different. Not only is housing here extremely expensive, its, well, small. The first several houses we drove by were a combination of tiny, ugly, dirty, nasty, or in bad neighborhoods. And another little hitch: people don't put FOR RENT signs up here. You either have to be an internet guru or actually know someone who knows someone. As we're sitting in the driveway waiting on another realtor to show us another too-small house, I use my trusty blackberry in a last ditch effort to find something worth it. Bingo. Two houses pop up. So, I call. First phone number is disconnected. Second phone number goes to voice mail. I leave a message, figuring it'll be another two days of nightmarish hotel hell before we get a call back. The house is an ugly orange-sherbet color in the picture, and honestly doesn't look that appealing, but at this point I'm about ready to camp on the beach. While we're still waiting (realtor is by now 15 minutes late), my phone rings. It's the realtor for the other house. He happens to be at the property right now, and he can show it to us now. So, we ditch the too small house with the late realtor for the possibility of another prospect. We program the address into the new GPS, and off we go. (BTW, I'm still a HUGE GPS fan). The GPS guides us down a small, two-lane road. At this point, my husband begins to question my real estate sanity. "Where the hell are you taking us?" he asks. My sarcasm kicks into overdrive, and I reply,"Yes, I have found us a beat up trailer in the sticks." I receive the traditional husband grunt in reply. Our little two-lane road passes a really smelly water treatment plant, then a golf course. Other than the smell, this is looking promising. The two lane road comes to a stop light on a four-lane, manicured road. The houses are....nice. There is a park.....there is mowed grass....there are palm trees lining the streets....there are crosswalks.....A couple of turns later and we arrive at the orange-sherbet house. From the street, it's not so orange. It's more of a light terra cotta. The neighborhood is quiet. In fact, there's not much noise at all. The front door is standing open, so we herd the kids in the house to look. Brad, the realtor, is waiting to greet us. The house is cool, calm, and has a vaulted ceiling in the entryway. There are two living spaces, a dining room, kitchen with an island, office space upstairs, four bedrooms and 2 and a half bathrooms. AWESOME!!! This is the first and only house we've actually be inside in our three day search. It's perfect. Other than the fact that it's 30 minutes from Ft. Shafter, where my husband will be working. My glorious husband knows that I have reached my hotel room limit, and gallantly takes one for the team. He agrees to commute every day so we can get out of the hotel. Bless you, honey!!! We sign the paperwork, pay our deposit, and hustle back to the hotel to begin packing.
When we arrive back at the hotel, there is a message from the movers. Our household goods are available for delivery the next day. Good thing we found a house, huh?
Monday, November 9, 2009
Aloha!
We have finally made it to the airport in L.A.! Hawaii (and the beach) is mere hours away! After months and months and months of planning, orders changes, packing, and hauling crap all over creation, we are within reach of the promised land. Woohoo!
Our flight to Honolulu departed from LAX on time, and yes, we and all of our baggage were actually on the plane. If you've ever traveled with even one small child, you know that by now I am terrified that my children will behave like the typical heathen children that they are and run screaming through the plane for the next five hours. Enter the mommy plan: ear plugs for the kids and all surrounding passengers, followed by a first course of benadryl for the kiddos. This, surprisingly enough, seemed to work. We managed to survive the flight relatively unscathed, even if I did have to go into the teeny airplane bathroom at least once with each child. Houdini even slept for about half the flight, which meant that I didn't have to spend that time making sure that she was still in her seat and not trying to decompress the cabin by opening the door. The in-flight movie happened to be Gray Gardens..eh....alrighty.
So, we land in Honolulu, and the luggage circus begins again. I had already reserved us another rental mini van, so the plan was to go downstairs to the baggage claim, get the luggage, and leave my poor husband with all four kids and 13 bags while I took the shuttle bus to get the rental car.
Enter....my husband's sponsor! Finally, an Army program that comes through like it's supposed to! His sponsor, who is a very nice and very very patient man, immediately sizes up the catastrophe in progress and calls for reinforcements in the form of more soldiers with big vans. He also offers to take me over to get the rental car. So off we go. Rental car acquired, we return to the terminal in time for the other vans to arrive, but due to the fact that I have rented a van, and SuperSponsor has a large SUV, we wave off the reinforcements. Thanks, anyway! We load up both vehicles and I pause to marvel that we even got all that stuff into one van in the first place.
If you've never PCS'ed to Hawaii, then here's a little tip: when you get here, you MUST drive all the way from Honolulu to Schofield Barracks and check in at the Inn there. At the Inn, they have a little deli with frosty beverages. The pleasant staff there will politely inform you and your hot and sweaty jet-lagged party that you must now turn around and go back to downtown Honolulu to the Hale Koa Hotel in Waikiki. Don't get me wrong, even though this adds about an hour to your settling in time, this is actually a good thing.
The Hale Koa in Waikiki is AWESOME. Let me say that again: It is AWESOME! The lobby itself is completely open air, and there is a HUGE banyan tree named Gus in the courtyard just inside the lobby. We were given adjoining rooms at the end of the fifth floor with NO neighbors. The kids got their room, and Hubby and I had ours. Woohoo! Not only that, our rooms each had their own balcony with a stunning view of both the ocean and downtown Honolulu. Very very cool. This is yet another thing that the military has done well for it's beneficiaries. Thank you!
After we spent some time settling in, we meandered downstairs for dinner at one of the restaurants at the hotel. By now, No. 1 has figured out that we're finally in Hawaii, and her focus in life has become the beach. She wants to go to the beach. Now. Right now. She doesn't want to eat dinner, she doesn't want to rest, she wants to go to the beach. Of course, it's getting dark, so no beach. She has to be content with seeing the beach from the open air porch at the restaurant. Bummer. After a tasty dinner, we all go back upstairs and turn in. Aloha and good night!
Our flight to Honolulu departed from LAX on time, and yes, we and all of our baggage were actually on the plane. If you've ever traveled with even one small child, you know that by now I am terrified that my children will behave like the typical heathen children that they are and run screaming through the plane for the next five hours. Enter the mommy plan: ear plugs for the kids and all surrounding passengers, followed by a first course of benadryl for the kiddos. This, surprisingly enough, seemed to work. We managed to survive the flight relatively unscathed, even if I did have to go into the teeny airplane bathroom at least once with each child. Houdini even slept for about half the flight, which meant that I didn't have to spend that time making sure that she was still in her seat and not trying to decompress the cabin by opening the door. The in-flight movie happened to be Gray Gardens..eh....alrighty.
So, we land in Honolulu, and the luggage circus begins again. I had already reserved us another rental mini van, so the plan was to go downstairs to the baggage claim, get the luggage, and leave my poor husband with all four kids and 13 bags while I took the shuttle bus to get the rental car.
Enter....my husband's sponsor! Finally, an Army program that comes through like it's supposed to! His sponsor, who is a very nice and very very patient man, immediately sizes up the catastrophe in progress and calls for reinforcements in the form of more soldiers with big vans. He also offers to take me over to get the rental car. So off we go. Rental car acquired, we return to the terminal in time for the other vans to arrive, but due to the fact that I have rented a van, and SuperSponsor has a large SUV, we wave off the reinforcements. Thanks, anyway! We load up both vehicles and I pause to marvel that we even got all that stuff into one van in the first place.
If you've never PCS'ed to Hawaii, then here's a little tip: when you get here, you MUST drive all the way from Honolulu to Schofield Barracks and check in at the Inn there. At the Inn, they have a little deli with frosty beverages. The pleasant staff there will politely inform you and your hot and sweaty jet-lagged party that you must now turn around and go back to downtown Honolulu to the Hale Koa Hotel in Waikiki. Don't get me wrong, even though this adds about an hour to your settling in time, this is actually a good thing.
The Hale Koa in Waikiki is AWESOME. Let me say that again: It is AWESOME! The lobby itself is completely open air, and there is a HUGE banyan tree named Gus in the courtyard just inside the lobby. We were given adjoining rooms at the end of the fifth floor with NO neighbors. The kids got their room, and Hubby and I had ours. Woohoo! Not only that, our rooms each had their own balcony with a stunning view of both the ocean and downtown Honolulu. Very very cool. This is yet another thing that the military has done well for it's beneficiaries. Thank you!
After we spent some time settling in, we meandered downstairs for dinner at one of the restaurants at the hotel. By now, No. 1 has figured out that we're finally in Hawaii, and her focus in life has become the beach. She wants to go to the beach. Now. Right now. She doesn't want to eat dinner, she doesn't want to rest, she wants to go to the beach. Of course, it's getting dark, so no beach. She has to be content with seeing the beach from the open air porch at the restaurant. Bummer. After a tasty dinner, we all go back upstairs and turn in. Aloha and good night!
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
L.A. Day Two
Having picked up our second rental mini van, and spent a peaceful night, we decided to check out the sights in L.A. Discussion was given to the merits of the La Brea Tar Pits, Disneyland, and many other places. We finally settled on the Museum of Natural History and the California Science Museum. So we loaded the brood in the van, and took off for the museum. When I rented this van, I decided to throw in a Garmin GPS with the rental. This turned out to be a very good decision because a) we didn't have a map of L.A., and b) I didn't want to spend the whole time arguing about where we were going. So we plugged our intended destination into the GPS, and off we go. Ten minutes later, we arrive at our destination only to discover that there are no less than five museums all in the same spot, and that the L.A. Olympic Arena is also right there. And we've forgotten the camera. Great.
So we find a place to park, get the kids out of the car, and head in to the science museum. This is the hands-on type of museum, and it's actually got a lot of really cool stuff in it. Out in the parking lot, you can try to pick up a truck. Really. The girls were actually able to do it (with a little help from Dad). The thing the kids seemed most impressed by was the HUGE gift shop inside the museum and the fact that there's also a McDonalds in the museum. Admission to the museum itself is free (donations are requested). There are three floors to the museum, with lots of things to try. The girls had fun running around and generally making us crazy. After the science museum, we walked next door to the Museum of Natural History. Admission there was $9 per person, but the museum was pretty neat. I was very Night At the Museum kinda feeling, with lots of dioramas and stuffed animals to see. Unfortunately, the dinosaur exhibit was closed for remodeling. Somewhere on the upper floors, though, they have a real working fossil lab where you can watch techs dremmel away the stone surrounding fossils found in the field.
After the museum, we went back to the hotel, and had another uneventful evening.
The next morning, we got up before the rooster. This was the morning of our flight. Our flight departed around 9-ish, so we planned to be at the airport no later than 7. This also coincided with the time I had to return our rental van, so we proceeded with the rush to the airport, unload all our luggage and run like hell to turn in the van plan. We got everybody up, ate breakfast in record time. Crammed all our luggage back in the van, loaded up, and drove down the street to the airport. As is the case with every other airport I've ever been to, there is only a one-lane loading zone in front of the departures area. We pull up, hubby jumps out of the car and starts to unload. We start the check-in process with the SkyCap at the corner, who checks all of us in for the flight, then proceeds to check the luggage in. For those of you who may not have read my earlier blog, we had 13 bags to check. That's right. THIRTEEN BAGS. (Of course, that's counting two car seats, a stroller, and a portacrib.) So hubby is getting the bag checked, and I notice that the motorcycle cops are like white on rice for people parked in the loading zone. I'm trying to communicate this to the hubby, but he just gives me the it'll be fine wave off. So I go and stand next to the van with the kids still in it right as a cop shows up. I assume my best frazzled mommy face and quickly explain to the officer that we're trying to get checked in. My husband is with the luggage, and I have the kids in the rental car. The cop lets me go. Thank GAWD! We finally get checked in, unload the kids, and I hop in the van to race over to Alamo and turn in the van.
I have to give props to the folks at Alamo. They have streamlined the rental process with barcode scanners. All you do is pull up, let them scan the car, get out and take off. Great. And they have a shuttle that goes right back to the airport. So, van turned in and back to the airport I go.
Get there, potty breaks, gate check in, and we're on the plane to Hawaii. ALO-HA!
So we find a place to park, get the kids out of the car, and head in to the science museum. This is the hands-on type of museum, and it's actually got a lot of really cool stuff in it. Out in the parking lot, you can try to pick up a truck. Really. The girls were actually able to do it (with a little help from Dad). The thing the kids seemed most impressed by was the HUGE gift shop inside the museum and the fact that there's also a McDonalds in the museum. Admission to the museum itself is free (donations are requested). There are three floors to the museum, with lots of things to try. The girls had fun running around and generally making us crazy. After the science museum, we walked next door to the Museum of Natural History. Admission there was $9 per person, but the museum was pretty neat. I was very Night At the Museum kinda feeling, with lots of dioramas and stuffed animals to see. Unfortunately, the dinosaur exhibit was closed for remodeling. Somewhere on the upper floors, though, they have a real working fossil lab where you can watch techs dremmel away the stone surrounding fossils found in the field.
After the museum, we went back to the hotel, and had another uneventful evening.
The next morning, we got up before the rooster. This was the morning of our flight. Our flight departed around 9-ish, so we planned to be at the airport no later than 7. This also coincided with the time I had to return our rental van, so we proceeded with the rush to the airport, unload all our luggage and run like hell to turn in the van plan. We got everybody up, ate breakfast in record time. Crammed all our luggage back in the van, loaded up, and drove down the street to the airport. As is the case with every other airport I've ever been to, there is only a one-lane loading zone in front of the departures area. We pull up, hubby jumps out of the car and starts to unload. We start the check-in process with the SkyCap at the corner, who checks all of us in for the flight, then proceeds to check the luggage in. For those of you who may not have read my earlier blog, we had 13 bags to check. That's right. THIRTEEN BAGS. (Of course, that's counting two car seats, a stroller, and a portacrib.) So hubby is getting the bag checked, and I notice that the motorcycle cops are like white on rice for people parked in the loading zone. I'm trying to communicate this to the hubby, but he just gives me the it'll be fine wave off. So I go and stand next to the van with the kids still in it right as a cop shows up. I assume my best frazzled mommy face and quickly explain to the officer that we're trying to get checked in. My husband is with the luggage, and I have the kids in the rental car. The cop lets me go. Thank GAWD! We finally get checked in, unload the kids, and I hop in the van to race over to Alamo and turn in the van.
I have to give props to the folks at Alamo. They have streamlined the rental process with barcode scanners. All you do is pull up, let them scan the car, get out and take off. Great. And they have a shuttle that goes right back to the airport. So, van turned in and back to the airport I go.
Get there, potty breaks, gate check in, and we're on the plane to Hawaii. ALO-HA!
All Aboard!
Okay, so we've gotten on the train. I reserved us the largest single room available on the train, the Family Bedroom. This room takes up the entire width of the train car, and is at one end of the lower level of the car we're on. When you board the train, you enter on the lower level of the car, and there are hallways (NARROW hallways) going both left and right. If you bear left, there are three restrooms, one shower, and the handicapped bedroom. If you bear right, there are three small rooms, the stairs to the upper level, the luggage rack, and the family bedroom. While the hubby sorts out the carry on baggage, I stuff our kids down the hallway (did I mention it was narrow?) to the family bedroom. Needless to say, it's 10 p.m. CST, and all is quiet -- except us. The kids are very excited to be on a train for the first time ever, and they're literally bouncing off the walls. As we're trying to cram like sardines through the doorway of our room, one of our fellow passengers slams open her room door, gives me the stink eye, and slams it closed again. Sorry lady, but if you wanted a quiet trip, you shouldn't have booked the room next door to the family bedroom. I do, in fact, feel pretty bad about the noise we are making, but I think it is better to get them all contained than to try to quiet them at this point. So, we get everyone crammed into the room. Actually, the room is quite spacious by railroad standards. There are two upper single bunks (one long and one shorter), and two bottom bunks. One of the bottom bunks is a double bed, and one is a single. We hoist the oldest two girls into the upper bunks, and secure them in their bunks with the luggage webbing provided. No kidding, you literally put up the luggage webbing to keep them from falling out. Then the plan was to get the younger two to go to sleep and put them both in the small bed. Riiiiiiight. Number 3 (Houdini) decides at this point that sleep is highly overrated. She's had ample time to get her second wind from the car ride and has absolutely no intention of sleeping in a weird bed on a moving train. Great. So much baby wrestling and threatening later, I end up in the double bed with Houdini, and my poor hubby ends up hanging onto six square inches of bunk edging. Poor guy. Number 4 peacefully drifts off in her car seat. We make several stop throughout the night, not all of which I actually wake up for.
Early the next morning, we decide to take breakfast in shifts. Hubby takes One and Two up to the dining car for breakfast, while I wait in the room with Three and Four. When he returns, I take Three up to the dining car for breakfast. The dining car is quite an experience. If you've never been on a train and/or had a meal on one, I highly recommend it. When you purchase a first class ticket on Amtrak, your meals are included in your ticket price (let me hear it for all-inclusive). Breakfast was fresh juice and coffee with an omelet for me and two scrambled eggs with bacon for Houdini. Houdini took all of two seconds to wolf down her breakfast and then spent the rest of the time trying to make sure I spilled mine. Seating in the dining car is first-come-first-serve, and you will end up sitting with people you don't know. This is a great way to get to know your fellow passengers, provided you don't have a screaming toddler wallowing all over your lap. The lady we sat with was fortunately very patient with us, and we finished breakfast without too much difficulty. To get to and from the dining car, we had to go up the stairs (again, NARROW) and through the upper levels of two other cars. The girls loved this, especially when it was time to transition between cars. The doors between cars on the upper levels are controlled by flat, rectangular hand switches. You basically slap the black rectangle to open the door. I might also mention that the switch just happens to be right at the eye level of a four-year-old. The girls were instantly in a rush to see who could slap the switch first. Joy.
Having eaten, and returned to our room, we settled in for the rest of our trip. For those who are attached to your electronics, you might as well forget it. There are no wi-fi, internet, TV, phone service, or even power outlets in the room. So we're stuck in a room the size of a walk-in closet with no electronic babysitter. Ha.
I do have to admit, the scenery is just plain awesome. We hit a big dust storm shortly after breakfast, and it was something to see from the train. There was lots of wildlife to see (caribou, elk, deer, and even a bear). And several of the towns that the train stops in are straight out of history. Very cool.
About the time we hit Santa Fe, I realize we are out of formula and diapers for Four. Being that we can't just do without these items, the hubby valiantly volunteers to scout for supplies. He leaves the girls and I at the station, returning less than an hour later with the necessities. He said that the cab driver took pity on him and waited for him outside the pharmacy while he ran in and got the goods. So, thanks to the cabby in Santa Fe!
We passed the rest of the trip in relative peace, with the exception of a complaint from the Stink Eye Lady next door. Apparently, the kids were disturbing her. Puh-lease. Apparently, she even got so loud about it, that the other passengers heard her fussing. I sat with several of them at dinner on our final day, and they were more upset that she had complained than they were about our kids. It's nice to have people on your side.
Once we got to L.A., things got kinda nuts. We had a LOT of luggage, and had to haul it from one end of Union Station to the other. Now, Union Station in L.A. is huge. So by the time we got to the baggage claim, we were all breathing hard. Then we had to get all of the checked bags, and find transportation to the hotel. Now, this was a detail that escaped me when I booked our accommodation in L.A. I neglected to consider the fact that the Hilton LAX would not have a shuttle bus from the train station. Duh. So, thirty minutes, a bunch of cussing, and a bunch of luggage hauling later, we managed to find a cab that was a mini van. Now, this mini van was not big enough to hold everything and us at the same time. But the cab driver (who just happened to be Russian) was patient and helped us cram (and I do mean CRAM) all of our belongings into the cab. We had had to travel with the car seats for three of the kids, so we installed two of those in the back bench seat, then had One squeeze in between them. Good thing she's skinny. We packed luggage in the floor underneath their feet, and in the walkway between the captains seats in the second row. We also filled the front passenger seat with luggage, and put Four in her car seat in one of the second row seats. That left one seat open....for two people. By now, I look at my poor, beaten up husband, and decide that I will let him have the seat. I then proceed to cram my 5'10" frame on top of the luggage in the center aisle. My husband then takes the remaining seat. Several lectures about auto safety later, we take off for the hotel. Our cabby does an awesome job of hauling us halfway across L.A. to the Hilton LAX, and drops us at the door. The bellhop manages to load all of our luggage on one cart (I had no idea they could hold that much) and totes it to the desk, where we finally get checked in. We haul everyone up to the fifth floor to our room, which is cool, quiet, and seemingly far away from any other human being. Maybe we won't get a noise complaint tonight.
Early the next morning, we decide to take breakfast in shifts. Hubby takes One and Two up to the dining car for breakfast, while I wait in the room with Three and Four. When he returns, I take Three up to the dining car for breakfast. The dining car is quite an experience. If you've never been on a train and/or had a meal on one, I highly recommend it. When you purchase a first class ticket on Amtrak, your meals are included in your ticket price (let me hear it for all-inclusive). Breakfast was fresh juice and coffee with an omelet for me and two scrambled eggs with bacon for Houdini. Houdini took all of two seconds to wolf down her breakfast and then spent the rest of the time trying to make sure I spilled mine. Seating in the dining car is first-come-first-serve, and you will end up sitting with people you don't know. This is a great way to get to know your fellow passengers, provided you don't have a screaming toddler wallowing all over your lap. The lady we sat with was fortunately very patient with us, and we finished breakfast without too much difficulty. To get to and from the dining car, we had to go up the stairs (again, NARROW) and through the upper levels of two other cars. The girls loved this, especially when it was time to transition between cars. The doors between cars on the upper levels are controlled by flat, rectangular hand switches. You basically slap the black rectangle to open the door. I might also mention that the switch just happens to be right at the eye level of a four-year-old. The girls were instantly in a rush to see who could slap the switch first. Joy.
Having eaten, and returned to our room, we settled in for the rest of our trip. For those who are attached to your electronics, you might as well forget it. There are no wi-fi, internet, TV, phone service, or even power outlets in the room. So we're stuck in a room the size of a walk-in closet with no electronic babysitter. Ha.
I do have to admit, the scenery is just plain awesome. We hit a big dust storm shortly after breakfast, and it was something to see from the train. There was lots of wildlife to see (caribou, elk, deer, and even a bear). And several of the towns that the train stops in are straight out of history. Very cool.
About the time we hit Santa Fe, I realize we are out of formula and diapers for Four. Being that we can't just do without these items, the hubby valiantly volunteers to scout for supplies. He leaves the girls and I at the station, returning less than an hour later with the necessities. He said that the cab driver took pity on him and waited for him outside the pharmacy while he ran in and got the goods. So, thanks to the cabby in Santa Fe!
We passed the rest of the trip in relative peace, with the exception of a complaint from the Stink Eye Lady next door. Apparently, the kids were disturbing her. Puh-lease. Apparently, she even got so loud about it, that the other passengers heard her fussing. I sat with several of them at dinner on our final day, and they were more upset that she had complained than they were about our kids. It's nice to have people on your side.
Once we got to L.A., things got kinda nuts. We had a LOT of luggage, and had to haul it from one end of Union Station to the other. Now, Union Station in L.A. is huge. So by the time we got to the baggage claim, we were all breathing hard. Then we had to get all of the checked bags, and find transportation to the hotel. Now, this was a detail that escaped me when I booked our accommodation in L.A. I neglected to consider the fact that the Hilton LAX would not have a shuttle bus from the train station. Duh. So, thirty minutes, a bunch of cussing, and a bunch of luggage hauling later, we managed to find a cab that was a mini van. Now, this mini van was not big enough to hold everything and us at the same time. But the cab driver (who just happened to be Russian) was patient and helped us cram (and I do mean CRAM) all of our belongings into the cab. We had had to travel with the car seats for three of the kids, so we installed two of those in the back bench seat, then had One squeeze in between them. Good thing she's skinny. We packed luggage in the floor underneath their feet, and in the walkway between the captains seats in the second row. We also filled the front passenger seat with luggage, and put Four in her car seat in one of the second row seats. That left one seat open....for two people. By now, I look at my poor, beaten up husband, and decide that I will let him have the seat. I then proceed to cram my 5'10" frame on top of the luggage in the center aisle. My husband then takes the remaining seat. Several lectures about auto safety later, we take off for the hotel. Our cabby does an awesome job of hauling us halfway across L.A. to the Hilton LAX, and drops us at the door. The bellhop manages to load all of our luggage on one cart (I had no idea they could hold that much) and totes it to the desk, where we finally get checked in. We haul everyone up to the fifth floor to our room, which is cool, quiet, and seemingly far away from any other human being. Maybe we won't get a noise complaint tonight.
On the Train
So, a couple of days later, we load our stuff and ourselves back into our rental van. This time, our destination in Kansas City, MO. We are on a mission to meet up with the Southwest Chief, an Amtrak train with service from Chicago, IL to Los Angeles, CA. We'll meet up with the train in Kansas City, and ride all the way to the end in L.A. The car trip is five hours of long and boring for the kids. When we finally arrive in Kansas City, we are THREE HOURS EARLY for the train. We decide to see if there is any possible way that we can go ahead and check our bags. All 13 of them. So, we haul the kids and some of the bags inside Union Station. If you've never been to Union Station in Kansas City, it's something you should check out. In addition to the Amtrak station, there is a museum, shops, and some fairly interesting looking restaurants. Anyway, the Amtrak station is located on the BACK side of the station. Yay. We haul all four kids and their overweight backpack to the ticket counter. Fortunately, the extremely nice lady who was working the counter said that yes, indeed, we could check all of our bags three hours in advance. She even gave us a free luggage cart to use to get all the bags in from the car. We formulate a game plan: I will stay inside the station with the kids, and the hubby will make the trips out to the van to get all the bags. Three (yes, three) trips out to the car later, we got all of our luggage inside. Now, what Amtrak neglects to tell you is that they too have a fifty pound weight limit on their bags. That's right. We did the overweight suitcase repack shuffle right there at the ticket counter. After everything is repacked, we check everything but our backpacks and the diaper bag. By the time that we are done, an hour has gone by. I've also had to take two of the girls to the bathroom during this time. The bathroom, by the way, is downstairs in the basement down some godforsaken hallway. Yep. Made that trip. Twice. Now that the baggage is checked and everyone has gone to the bathroom, I take off in our rental van to return it. Closest return station - - Kansas City airport. Groovy. Drove like a crazy woman to get there, then had to call a cab to take me back to the train station. Cabby takes 30 minutes to get there. Yep. My train is leaving in 30 minutes! Ack!
So while I'm waiting for the cab, my husband texts me that No. 2 has, well, done No. 2 in her pants at the train station. Fortunately, she has a change of clothes, but he can't haul all four kids and the carry on luggage downstairs to the bathroom. He'll have to wait until I get there to change her. Fabulous.
The cabby finally arrives. I notice two things right off the bat: he's Russian, and he's chatty. Fortunately for me, he drives as fast as he talks and I'm back at the train station 20 minutes later. I run like a mad woman inside (I'm sure someone probably thought I was nuts as I went tearing across the station lobby), grab No 2 and her change of clothes, and run with her downstairs to change the pants. Got the pants changed, all the while lecturing No 2 on the evils of pooping our pants in public, and run back upstairs just in time for the train boarding call. By this time, it's 9:30 p.m. CST. We've been on the road all day, had a small clothing crisis, and the train platform is dark. Nothing is labeled, and we don't know which door of the train to board. Fortunately, the hubby excells at night time land nav, and he snags an unsuspecting conductor who points us in the right direction.
So while I'm waiting for the cab, my husband texts me that No. 2 has, well, done No. 2 in her pants at the train station. Fortunately, she has a change of clothes, but he can't haul all four kids and the carry on luggage downstairs to the bathroom. He'll have to wait until I get there to change her. Fabulous.
The cabby finally arrives. I notice two things right off the bat: he's Russian, and he's chatty. Fortunately for me, he drives as fast as he talks and I'm back at the train station 20 minutes later. I run like a mad woman inside (I'm sure someone probably thought I was nuts as I went tearing across the station lobby), grab No 2 and her change of clothes, and run with her downstairs to change the pants. Got the pants changed, all the while lecturing No 2 on the evils of pooping our pants in public, and run back upstairs just in time for the train boarding call. By this time, it's 9:30 p.m. CST. We've been on the road all day, had a small clothing crisis, and the train platform is dark. Nothing is labeled, and we don't know which door of the train to board. Fortunately, the hubby excells at night time land nav, and he snags an unsuspecting conductor who points us in the right direction.
Shipping Vehicles - Day Two
Okay, since it's actually been a while since I've been able to update, let's make this quick. Sorta.
So, stuck in the hotel in Texas and waiting to ship our vehicles. Hubby runs in real quick to the Best Western to get us a room (another added expense, thank you). He comes out and says they gave us the second floor room right next to the stairs. Next to the stairs is good because it allows us to make a quick exit. Second floor -- not so good.
Anyone who has ever stayed in a less-expensive hotel knows that you can hear EVERYTHING going on in the rooms next to you. Anyone who works at a hotel should also know this, and therefore should avoid putting people with children anywhere near anybody else. I know my kids are loud. I often remind staff of this and ask for special accommodations so that we don't disturb anyone else. Well, my husband apparently is not aware of this golden rule. So, around 8 p.m., the phone rings in our hotel room. It's the front desk, who is asking us on behalf of the little old couple in the room directly below us, if we could please be quiet. "If you have any children, could you please try to keep them quiet." By now, I am emotionally and physically exhausted. I kindly inform the young man on the phone that we not only have one child, we have FOUR. And we have the dog in the room. "Oh," he says. "I'm sorry." Yeah, me too.
Eventually, we get the kids into bed and everyone has a somewhat restful night.
Bright and early the next day, we all wake up, go downstairs in shifts to have breakfast, and pack everyone back into the vehicles to go try to ship them again. We're the second family in the door, and they've been waiting for us to come back. The staff immediately absconds with the paperwork, my car keys, and my husband. The kids and I are asked to wait in the family waiting room. So we wait.....and wait.....and wait....Thankfully, there are several broken toys in the waiting room for the kids to hit each other with. This keeps them occupied for all of five minutes. Two and a half hours later, my husband returns, only to inform me that the emergency brake on his truck doesn't work. I do the only thing I can do at this point. I give him the stink eye. Fortunately for us, the guy who works in the shipping dock knows a guy who can fix it (I smell a kickback). It'll only cost us $150. Woo. Hoo. So, another hour and a half later, the emergency brake is fixed, and both vehicles are ready to go. Let's hear an 'Amen'.
We cram ourselves into our rental minivan (which barely holds us, the dog, and our luggage) and take off for Oklahoma. Six LONG and Barbie-video filled hours later, we make it to the in-laws house near Lake Keystone. Having a surprise birthday party to get to, we dump the kids on the folks, load up the dog, and head off to meet our friends in Stillwater.
Somehow, I managed to get in touch with some old friends of ours to arrange a shindig so we could say goodbye to everyone before heading off to paradise. A couple friends of ours have a farm near Stillwater with a large back porch and a working blender. Having recently been to Hawaii themselves, they have learned the magic recipe for lava flows.....Much alcohol consumption ensues, and somewhere in there we managed to drop the dog off at her new home. Bye, Molly! Anyway, after the stress of the last two days, it was absolutely great to sit out on the porch with some old friends, drink a cold one, and catch up. We pass out in the wee hours (me in the guest bedroom, him on the floor with the dogs).
The next morning, we jump up, shower, and head off to visit our favorite old haunts in Stillwater. Stopped at Eskimo Joe's to visit Joe's Clothes and see if there were any new t-shirts we didn't already own. Didn't find anything on that trip. Then headed over to Chris' University Spirit to get a new window sticker for the truck. Then from there over to the Student Union Store for some more spirit apparel. We even stopped and checked out the new Alumni Association building on campus. Very swanky. (BTW, Go Pokes!) Headed back to the parent's house in time to relax a bit. Then it was back to Stillwater for a combination going away/birthday party. All of the hubby's family are there to help celebrate the birth of our No. 2 daughter. And my birthday. and my husband's birthday. A good time was had by all.
So, stuck in the hotel in Texas and waiting to ship our vehicles. Hubby runs in real quick to the Best Western to get us a room (another added expense, thank you). He comes out and says they gave us the second floor room right next to the stairs. Next to the stairs is good because it allows us to make a quick exit. Second floor -- not so good.
Anyone who has ever stayed in a less-expensive hotel knows that you can hear EVERYTHING going on in the rooms next to you. Anyone who works at a hotel should also know this, and therefore should avoid putting people with children anywhere near anybody else. I know my kids are loud. I often remind staff of this and ask for special accommodations so that we don't disturb anyone else. Well, my husband apparently is not aware of this golden rule. So, around 8 p.m., the phone rings in our hotel room. It's the front desk, who is asking us on behalf of the little old couple in the room directly below us, if we could please be quiet. "If you have any children, could you please try to keep them quiet." By now, I am emotionally and physically exhausted. I kindly inform the young man on the phone that we not only have one child, we have FOUR. And we have the dog in the room. "Oh," he says. "I'm sorry." Yeah, me too.
Eventually, we get the kids into bed and everyone has a somewhat restful night.
Bright and early the next day, we all wake up, go downstairs in shifts to have breakfast, and pack everyone back into the vehicles to go try to ship them again. We're the second family in the door, and they've been waiting for us to come back. The staff immediately absconds with the paperwork, my car keys, and my husband. The kids and I are asked to wait in the family waiting room. So we wait.....and wait.....and wait....Thankfully, there are several broken toys in the waiting room for the kids to hit each other with. This keeps them occupied for all of five minutes. Two and a half hours later, my husband returns, only to inform me that the emergency brake on his truck doesn't work. I do the only thing I can do at this point. I give him the stink eye. Fortunately for us, the guy who works in the shipping dock knows a guy who can fix it (I smell a kickback). It'll only cost us $150. Woo. Hoo. So, another hour and a half later, the emergency brake is fixed, and both vehicles are ready to go. Let's hear an 'Amen'.
We cram ourselves into our rental minivan (which barely holds us, the dog, and our luggage) and take off for Oklahoma. Six LONG and Barbie-video filled hours later, we make it to the in-laws house near Lake Keystone. Having a surprise birthday party to get to, we dump the kids on the folks, load up the dog, and head off to meet our friends in Stillwater.
Somehow, I managed to get in touch with some old friends of ours to arrange a shindig so we could say goodbye to everyone before heading off to paradise. A couple friends of ours have a farm near Stillwater with a large back porch and a working blender. Having recently been to Hawaii themselves, they have learned the magic recipe for lava flows.....Much alcohol consumption ensues, and somewhere in there we managed to drop the dog off at her new home. Bye, Molly! Anyway, after the stress of the last two days, it was absolutely great to sit out on the porch with some old friends, drink a cold one, and catch up. We pass out in the wee hours (me in the guest bedroom, him on the floor with the dogs).
The next morning, we jump up, shower, and head off to visit our favorite old haunts in Stillwater. Stopped at Eskimo Joe's to visit Joe's Clothes and see if there were any new t-shirts we didn't already own. Didn't find anything on that trip. Then headed over to Chris' University Spirit to get a new window sticker for the truck. Then from there over to the Student Union Store for some more spirit apparel. We even stopped and checked out the new Alumni Association building on campus. Very swanky. (BTW, Go Pokes!) Headed back to the parent's house in time to relax a bit. Then it was back to Stillwater for a combination going away/birthday party. All of the hubby's family are there to help celebrate the birth of our No. 2 daughter. And my birthday. and my husband's birthday. A good time was had by all.
Friday, August 21, 2009
The Vehicle Shipping Fiasco
So, here we are. Orders in hand. Flight scheduled. Household goods gone. House cleared. Staying in hotel room with four little kids. Now it's time to get our vehicles shipped. By now, it's late at night, and we're ensconced in our Comfort Suites room. All the kids are asleep (finally). And the thought crosses my mind to check with the shipping company to make sure that we're good to ship both of our vehicles to Hawaii. I should have just gone to bed instead.
For the record, my husband and I both drive large vehicles. He drives a Chevy Silverado extended cab Z71. I drive a GMC Yukon XL (think Suburban). We love our cars, and upon checking into cheap jalopy prices in Honolulu, decided to keep our vehicles and pay out of pocket to ship my car. Since the Army only pays to ship one vehicle overseas (does ANYONE have a one-car family anymore), I had to call the vehicle shipper several weeks ago to get information about shipping my truck. So, I called the folks at Pasha Hawaii. The gentleman I spoke to was very nice and helpful (so I thought). He informed me that it would be no problem to ship my truck from Dallas, and that it would cost a measly $1790. OUCH! Well, $1790 is still cheaper than buying a beater vehicle...I asked him if I needed any kind of letter of permission from my lender, since my car is financed. He said that their company didn't require one. I asked about what could remain in the car, and he said nothing but car seats for the kids. I asked how much gas needed to be in the car, and he said that it didn't matter how much gas was in the car. I thanked him and hung up. This is where the sleepless night at the Comfort Suites comes in.
I'm lying there in our hotel room when I get to thinking about shipping the cars the next day. My husband's truck is on orders, so his should be ready to go. But, as anyone who has ever done anything with the military knows, there has to be a hitch to getting my vehicle there. "There has to be a hitch," I think to myself. So, I get up, turn on my trusty laptop, and get on the Pasha Hawaii site. First hitch: If you pay for your car to go to Hawaii online, you can use a credit card. If you wait to pay at the drop off site, you have to use a money order or cashier's check. GREAT. Not only do we bank with Bank of America, but I have no idea where a BofA location would be between here and there, and I certainly don't want to haul the kids into the bank. So, I need to pay with a credit card. You can book online with the site, but somehow I think I'd rather talk to someone on the phone. Of course, Pasha is closed until 10 a.m. CST the following morning. So I get to stew about paying for the car. Then, a second thought occurs to me: if I have to book, I wonder if I have to have an appointment at the drop off location. So, I get on the phone to call Dallas VPC. Again, closed. GREAT. I might mention at this point that at no time during our travel booking with the post did they mention ANYTHING about needing to book or scheduling an appointment with anyone. So I explain all of my frantic stressing to my husband in great detail. He supportively mumbles something about calling them in the morning, rolls over, and proceeds to snore. I spend the night tossing and turning.
Bright and early the following morning, I make my calls. I call Dallas VPC first. The lady on the phone explains that yes, I do need an appointment as well as the order number from Pasha. GREAT. I explain that we're in transit already, and ask if they have any availability for today. She puts me on hold. When she comes back on the line, she tells me that yes, they can get me in at 3 p.m. HALLELUJIAH! So, then, I call Pasha. Again, I get to talk to the same nice guy on the phone, who doesn't realize the error of his non-information giving ways. I book my truck's passage, grilling the guy the whole time. $1790 later (Again, OUCH!), he emails me my confirmation, which I then have to sign and fax back to him with a copy of my registration. Fortunately, Comfort Suites has a business center, and they are happy to fax my paperwork for me. Whew. Crisis averted.
So, after our complementary continental breakfast (Yeah, Frosted Flakes!), we load everyone into our trucks, and head off for Dallas. A few minutes after leaving the hotel, we have to stop and fill up both trucks with gas. (There's no restriction on gas level at Dallas VPC, right?) So, refueled, we take off again. Five seconds after we pull onto the highway, my 22-month-old, who we will call Houdini, stands up in her five-point-harness car seat. Since I am the last man in our two-car convoy, I flash my headlights at the lead vehicle, and signal to pull over. I manage to get the car pulled over before Houdini makes it to the floor of the vehicle. I unbuckle my seat belt, open my door, run around my vehicle to the passenger side, and snatch Houdini out of her seat. After a quick swat on the bottom and a stern "Stay in your seat!" from me, I fasten her in the seat again, and I tighten the straps as tight as I can get them without cutting off her circulation. By this time, my husband has pulled a standard median U-turn, and is approaching us on the service road. He sees that I am getting back in my seat, and executes a reverse U-turn onto the on-ramp of the highway, and we take off again. Two-and a half semi-peaceful hours later (Mom, she's touching my PILLOW!!!), I receive a text message from my husband. "Hugry yet?" He asks. I sigh. I'd really rather not stop, but if you don't feed the heathens, they tend to get cranky. So, I answer that yes, we're hungry. My husband, great man and hero that he is, has a singular talent for stopping in the armpit of nowhere on the side of the road. When he signals to get off the highway at Willie's Place (Yes, I mean Willie Nelson), I think he's gone off his rocker. We get to the top of the exit ramp, and sure enough, there is NOTHING. We make a quick left, cross over the highway, and there it is: Willie's Place. Hmmm....It's brand new, and appears to be clean from the outside. Upon closer examination, the dining room is clean, and the staff is friendly. They show us to an extra-large booth close to the restrooms, and take our orders. The food is actually good. I am amazed that I only have to make two trips to the bathroom during the meal because our two oldest girls have a bathroom fetish. We eat, and leave Willie's Place in under an hour.
If you've ever been through the Dallas/Ft. Worth area on I-35, you know that you NEVER want to take I-35E unless you've got an actual reason to go to downtown Dallas. I-35E is long, drawn out, and congested with traffic at the best of times. Well, Dallas VPC is in Lake Dallas, TX, which is just north of Dallas itself on I-35E. I figure that traffic shouldn't be too bad, since we'll be going through Dallas at 2:00. Traffic was great, until we got to within 10 miles of Dallas VPC, where TxDOT has closed the right lane of I-35E. Traffic backs up and proceeds at a snail's pace, because the single largest flaw of Texas drivers is that they don't kow the definition of the word MERGE. They all also apparently missed ALL of the signs for three miles prior to the lane closure that the lane would be closed ahead. It's getting very close to our 3 p.m. appointment by the time that we hit this traffic snarl. So, I think ahead, and I call Dallas VPC and tell them that we're on our way and we're caught in traffic. They inform me that "We'll be fine". We finally navigate our way to Dallas VPC 45 minutes later. Then I have to go get the rental car, which happens to be back the way we came (through the snarled traffic). So, we drop of my husband's truck, and drive like crazy people back to pick up the rental car. By now, my husband is cranky and upset because we have go backtrack to get the rental car. I can almost hear him thinking that we should have picked up the rental car on the way, but unless he wants our six-year-old to drive, two people can't drive three cars. So he drops me like a hot potato to pick up the rental car, and he hightails it back to Dallas VPC with the kids. I get our rental car (a KIA minivan) and hightail it right after him. By the time I arrive at Dallas VPC again, it is 4 p.m. I get inside with my two youngest children, and I'm sweating like a pig. The very nice man at the door informs me that we've "missed the cutoff". "Excuse me?" I say.
"We stop taking cars at 3:30," he says.
"I had a 3:00 appointment, and I called to say we were stuck in traffic," I tell him. He checks with another person and agrees to start processing the vehicles today.
Then he returns and tells me that they can't process today because his boss says no, and we need to wash both cars.
By now, I am completely exhausted, sweaty, and stressed out. I start to cry. They send my husband in to calm me down (and make me leave). So, we go outside, and he says, "I don't understand why you're so upset. I figured something like this would happen."
I told him, "Well, you're going to miss your surprise birthday party tomorrow. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
For the record, my husband and I both drive large vehicles. He drives a Chevy Silverado extended cab Z71. I drive a GMC Yukon XL (think Suburban). We love our cars, and upon checking into cheap jalopy prices in Honolulu, decided to keep our vehicles and pay out of pocket to ship my car. Since the Army only pays to ship one vehicle overseas (does ANYONE have a one-car family anymore), I had to call the vehicle shipper several weeks ago to get information about shipping my truck. So, I called the folks at Pasha Hawaii. The gentleman I spoke to was very nice and helpful (so I thought). He informed me that it would be no problem to ship my truck from Dallas, and that it would cost a measly $1790. OUCH! Well, $1790 is still cheaper than buying a beater vehicle...I asked him if I needed any kind of letter of permission from my lender, since my car is financed. He said that their company didn't require one. I asked about what could remain in the car, and he said nothing but car seats for the kids. I asked how much gas needed to be in the car, and he said that it didn't matter how much gas was in the car. I thanked him and hung up. This is where the sleepless night at the Comfort Suites comes in.
I'm lying there in our hotel room when I get to thinking about shipping the cars the next day. My husband's truck is on orders, so his should be ready to go. But, as anyone who has ever done anything with the military knows, there has to be a hitch to getting my vehicle there. "There has to be a hitch," I think to myself. So, I get up, turn on my trusty laptop, and get on the Pasha Hawaii site. First hitch: If you pay for your car to go to Hawaii online, you can use a credit card. If you wait to pay at the drop off site, you have to use a money order or cashier's check. GREAT. Not only do we bank with Bank of America, but I have no idea where a BofA location would be between here and there, and I certainly don't want to haul the kids into the bank. So, I need to pay with a credit card. You can book online with the site, but somehow I think I'd rather talk to someone on the phone. Of course, Pasha is closed until 10 a.m. CST the following morning. So I get to stew about paying for the car. Then, a second thought occurs to me: if I have to book, I wonder if I have to have an appointment at the drop off location. So, I get on the phone to call Dallas VPC. Again, closed. GREAT. I might mention at this point that at no time during our travel booking with the post did they mention ANYTHING about needing to book or scheduling an appointment with anyone. So I explain all of my frantic stressing to my husband in great detail. He supportively mumbles something about calling them in the morning, rolls over, and proceeds to snore. I spend the night tossing and turning.
Bright and early the following morning, I make my calls. I call Dallas VPC first. The lady on the phone explains that yes, I do need an appointment as well as the order number from Pasha. GREAT. I explain that we're in transit already, and ask if they have any availability for today. She puts me on hold. When she comes back on the line, she tells me that yes, they can get me in at 3 p.m. HALLELUJIAH! So, then, I call Pasha. Again, I get to talk to the same nice guy on the phone, who doesn't realize the error of his non-information giving ways. I book my truck's passage, grilling the guy the whole time. $1790 later (Again, OUCH!), he emails me my confirmation, which I then have to sign and fax back to him with a copy of my registration. Fortunately, Comfort Suites has a business center, and they are happy to fax my paperwork for me. Whew. Crisis averted.
So, after our complementary continental breakfast (Yeah, Frosted Flakes!), we load everyone into our trucks, and head off for Dallas. A few minutes after leaving the hotel, we have to stop and fill up both trucks with gas. (There's no restriction on gas level at Dallas VPC, right?) So, refueled, we take off again. Five seconds after we pull onto the highway, my 22-month-old, who we will call Houdini, stands up in her five-point-harness car seat. Since I am the last man in our two-car convoy, I flash my headlights at the lead vehicle, and signal to pull over. I manage to get the car pulled over before Houdini makes it to the floor of the vehicle. I unbuckle my seat belt, open my door, run around my vehicle to the passenger side, and snatch Houdini out of her seat. After a quick swat on the bottom and a stern "Stay in your seat!" from me, I fasten her in the seat again, and I tighten the straps as tight as I can get them without cutting off her circulation. By this time, my husband has pulled a standard median U-turn, and is approaching us on the service road. He sees that I am getting back in my seat, and executes a reverse U-turn onto the on-ramp of the highway, and we take off again. Two-and a half semi-peaceful hours later (Mom, she's touching my PILLOW!!!), I receive a text message from my husband. "Hugry yet?" He asks. I sigh. I'd really rather not stop, but if you don't feed the heathens, they tend to get cranky. So, I answer that yes, we're hungry. My husband, great man and hero that he is, has a singular talent for stopping in the armpit of nowhere on the side of the road. When he signals to get off the highway at Willie's Place (Yes, I mean Willie Nelson), I think he's gone off his rocker. We get to the top of the exit ramp, and sure enough, there is NOTHING. We make a quick left, cross over the highway, and there it is: Willie's Place. Hmmm....It's brand new, and appears to be clean from the outside. Upon closer examination, the dining room is clean, and the staff is friendly. They show us to an extra-large booth close to the restrooms, and take our orders. The food is actually good. I am amazed that I only have to make two trips to the bathroom during the meal because our two oldest girls have a bathroom fetish. We eat, and leave Willie's Place in under an hour.
If you've ever been through the Dallas/Ft. Worth area on I-35, you know that you NEVER want to take I-35E unless you've got an actual reason to go to downtown Dallas. I-35E is long, drawn out, and congested with traffic at the best of times. Well, Dallas VPC is in Lake Dallas, TX, which is just north of Dallas itself on I-35E. I figure that traffic shouldn't be too bad, since we'll be going through Dallas at 2:00. Traffic was great, until we got to within 10 miles of Dallas VPC, where TxDOT has closed the right lane of I-35E. Traffic backs up and proceeds at a snail's pace, because the single largest flaw of Texas drivers is that they don't kow the definition of the word MERGE. They all also apparently missed ALL of the signs for three miles prior to the lane closure that the lane would be closed ahead. It's getting very close to our 3 p.m. appointment by the time that we hit this traffic snarl. So, I think ahead, and I call Dallas VPC and tell them that we're on our way and we're caught in traffic. They inform me that "We'll be fine". We finally navigate our way to Dallas VPC 45 minutes later. Then I have to go get the rental car, which happens to be back the way we came (through the snarled traffic). So, we drop of my husband's truck, and drive like crazy people back to pick up the rental car. By now, my husband is cranky and upset because we have go backtrack to get the rental car. I can almost hear him thinking that we should have picked up the rental car on the way, but unless he wants our six-year-old to drive, two people can't drive three cars. So he drops me like a hot potato to pick up the rental car, and he hightails it back to Dallas VPC with the kids. I get our rental car (a KIA minivan) and hightail it right after him. By the time I arrive at Dallas VPC again, it is 4 p.m. I get inside with my two youngest children, and I'm sweating like a pig. The very nice man at the door informs me that we've "missed the cutoff". "Excuse me?" I say.
"We stop taking cars at 3:30," he says.
"I had a 3:00 appointment, and I called to say we were stuck in traffic," I tell him. He checks with another person and agrees to start processing the vehicles today.
Then he returns and tells me that they can't process today because his boss says no, and we need to wash both cars.
By now, I am completely exhausted, sweaty, and stressed out. I start to cry. They send my husband in to calm me down (and make me leave). So, we go outside, and he says, "I don't understand why you're so upset. I figured something like this would happen."
I told him, "Well, you're going to miss your surprise birthday party tomorrow. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
In the beginning....
Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, the Army decided that our family needed to move to Hawaii. "GREAT!" I said, "It'll be fantastic!" Psyched as I was at first, I had yet to think of everything that would be involved in this move. First of all, we have a LOT of stuff. We live in a four bedroom, 2100 square foot house with a two-car garage. The garage is FULL of stuff. Then there's the dog. She is old and does not do boarding well, much less a twelve hour flight in the cargo hold of a 747. Then, there's the biggest kicker of all: we have FOUR (yes, FOUR) kids. All of the kids are under the age of 7, and they're girls.
Many months (and orders changes) later, our PCS date had been pushed back. Further delays ensued. Frustration was born. Finally, my husband made it back from Afghanistan, and we could begin our long journey to Hawaii. Well, the office that does the orders here in Texas is backed up. So we have to wait for the orders. Again. Finally got the orders (two weeks later). But unlike every other post we have lived at, transportation needs separate dependant orders before they can give us a travel date. And in order to do that, we have to go to an EFMP screening. What EFMP? We don't utilize the services of EFMP, and never have. Why do we need a screening? You just do, they say. So, in typical hoop-jumping fashion, I make appointments for myself and all four kids to go have our screenings. Got to the screening office, and was told that they never received my medical records. I've been to see my primary care physician exactly three times in the two and a half years that we've lived here. And on top of that, the clinic where my PCM used to practice has closed and moved over an hour away. The EFMP screening folks inform me that they can't process my screening without my nonexistent medical records. GREAT. So, I call the appointment line again (they can't reschedule right there in the office) and make new appointments for the five of us, which I am told will not happen for two more weeks.
In the mean time, my wonderful husband has managed to fight the good fight and procure us a moving date. We're scheduled to have the movers come August 10-12 to pack and load all of our household goods. It will take at least 30 days for all of our possessions to make it to Hawaii. So, no stuff for a month. Alrighty then. Then, I get a call from transportation saying that because they do not have dependent orders, that they will have to put all of our stuff in storage instead of shipping it directly to Hawaii. Can't get the dependent orders because EFMP won't clear me without medical records, which I can't get because my doctor's office no longer exists. Rock, meet hard place. Eventually, I did manage to get some medical records faxed, and went to our second EFMP appointment (this screening is only supposed to take 20 minutes, and I've been back twice now). Get to the appointment, hand the receptionist all my paperwork, and she says, "Oh, you need a new 5888."
"What?" I say, "What do you mean?"
"This is the OLD 5888. You have to have the new version of the form."
At this point, I am slightly upset. Not only because this is the second time I've been there, but because I had to drag all four kids up there with me into their tiny office. This 5888 is the same exact one that I gave her two weeks ago, and she didn't say anything then. Are you serious??? So, I called my loving, wonderful husband. Several expletives and a lot of shouting from him later, they magically made a new 5888 appear. We were processed and ready to go. Finally.
So, we sent the EFMP blessing off to get dependent orders, which took blessedly no time at all to get. Transportation came through in a flash and corrected our move to a direct shipment. Woohoo!! Things are looking up!
So, I decided to put in our 30 days notice with our landlord. As a reward for my thoughtful gesture, I receive four more pages of paperwork, which I must return with a stack of receipts for things like lawn fertilization and carpet cleaning. Equipped with my extended move-out inspection list ($75 cleaning fee if the air conditioning registers are dusty), I go home and immediately freak out. My husband tells me that I'm stressing over nothing, as usual, which I am. But, seriously, I tell him, what kind of renter honestly has their lawn fertilized?
After that, things continued to crawl along for a bit. Friends and family came to visit at various times to say goodbye. We cleaned out the garage and the closets. Then moving day arrived.....
Bless our movers! All three days of our move were above 100 degrees. The ladies that came to pack our things were speedy quick, and even finished packing early on the second day! The guys who came to load the stuff worked hard through blistering heat AND rain, and stayed at our house for over 12 hours. Stuff loaded. Check. Now to clean and then drop off our vehicles in Dallas.
Four days of back breaking cleaning later, we finally checked into the hotel. (And, let me tell you, there is nothing sexier than a man scrubbing the floor at midnight.) Yep, that's right we slept on air mattresses and nap mats for FOUR DAYS. Four little kids out of their own beds is not fun. The first night they stayed up until 11 p.m. giggling. So, no sleep = cranky all day = crying melt downs in the afternoon. Joy. Anyway, we did our move-out inspection, which went okay. Then we checked into the Comfort Suites in Killeen. I had specifically chosen this hotel because it said PET FRIENDLY. Well, yeah, if your pet weighs less than 10 lbs. Sorry, but our dog weighs 50! So, the poor dog is stuck outside in her crate. Other than that, though, the room was nice, and the kids did okay.
More on our moving experience tomorrow!!!
Many months (and orders changes) later, our PCS date had been pushed back. Further delays ensued. Frustration was born. Finally, my husband made it back from Afghanistan, and we could begin our long journey to Hawaii. Well, the office that does the orders here in Texas is backed up. So we have to wait for the orders. Again. Finally got the orders (two weeks later). But unlike every other post we have lived at, transportation needs separate dependant orders before they can give us a travel date. And in order to do that, we have to go to an EFMP screening. What EFMP? We don't utilize the services of EFMP, and never have. Why do we need a screening? You just do, they say. So, in typical hoop-jumping fashion, I make appointments for myself and all four kids to go have our screenings. Got to the screening office, and was told that they never received my medical records. I've been to see my primary care physician exactly three times in the two and a half years that we've lived here. And on top of that, the clinic where my PCM used to practice has closed and moved over an hour away. The EFMP screening folks inform me that they can't process my screening without my nonexistent medical records. GREAT. So, I call the appointment line again (they can't reschedule right there in the office) and make new appointments for the five of us, which I am told will not happen for two more weeks.
In the mean time, my wonderful husband has managed to fight the good fight and procure us a moving date. We're scheduled to have the movers come August 10-12 to pack and load all of our household goods. It will take at least 30 days for all of our possessions to make it to Hawaii. So, no stuff for a month. Alrighty then. Then, I get a call from transportation saying that because they do not have dependent orders, that they will have to put all of our stuff in storage instead of shipping it directly to Hawaii. Can't get the dependent orders because EFMP won't clear me without medical records, which I can't get because my doctor's office no longer exists. Rock, meet hard place. Eventually, I did manage to get some medical records faxed, and went to our second EFMP appointment (this screening is only supposed to take 20 minutes, and I've been back twice now). Get to the appointment, hand the receptionist all my paperwork, and she says, "Oh, you need a new 5888."
"What?" I say, "What do you mean?"
"This is the OLD 5888. You have to have the new version of the form."
At this point, I am slightly upset. Not only because this is the second time I've been there, but because I had to drag all four kids up there with me into their tiny office. This 5888 is the same exact one that I gave her two weeks ago, and she didn't say anything then. Are you serious??? So, I called my loving, wonderful husband. Several expletives and a lot of shouting from him later, they magically made a new 5888 appear. We were processed and ready to go. Finally.
So, we sent the EFMP blessing off to get dependent orders, which took blessedly no time at all to get. Transportation came through in a flash and corrected our move to a direct shipment. Woohoo!! Things are looking up!
So, I decided to put in our 30 days notice with our landlord. As a reward for my thoughtful gesture, I receive four more pages of paperwork, which I must return with a stack of receipts for things like lawn fertilization and carpet cleaning. Equipped with my extended move-out inspection list ($75 cleaning fee if the air conditioning registers are dusty), I go home and immediately freak out. My husband tells me that I'm stressing over nothing, as usual, which I am. But, seriously, I tell him, what kind of renter honestly has their lawn fertilized?
After that, things continued to crawl along for a bit. Friends and family came to visit at various times to say goodbye. We cleaned out the garage and the closets. Then moving day arrived.....
Bless our movers! All three days of our move were above 100 degrees. The ladies that came to pack our things were speedy quick, and even finished packing early on the second day! The guys who came to load the stuff worked hard through blistering heat AND rain, and stayed at our house for over 12 hours. Stuff loaded. Check. Now to clean and then drop off our vehicles in Dallas.
Four days of back breaking cleaning later, we finally checked into the hotel. (And, let me tell you, there is nothing sexier than a man scrubbing the floor at midnight.) Yep, that's right we slept on air mattresses and nap mats for FOUR DAYS. Four little kids out of their own beds is not fun. The first night they stayed up until 11 p.m. giggling. So, no sleep = cranky all day = crying melt downs in the afternoon. Joy. Anyway, we did our move-out inspection, which went okay. Then we checked into the Comfort Suites in Killeen. I had specifically chosen this hotel because it said PET FRIENDLY. Well, yeah, if your pet weighs less than 10 lbs. Sorry, but our dog weighs 50! So, the poor dog is stuck outside in her crate. Other than that, though, the room was nice, and the kids did okay.
More on our moving experience tomorrow!!!
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