weekend getaway

We've never stayed in a hotel room as a family. With kids, I mean. I've heard it can be really tricky and I'm sure those parents are no liars. It's tricky sometimes to get our whole family to sleep in our own cozy little beds. So . . . . here's the closest thing to us staying in a hotel. Brett's doing a 4 week rotation in Clay Center ks. We went out for a visit this past weekend and had a grand old time there. Just for the record, there are 4500 people residing in the sweet little town. No McDonalds . . . not that I frequent the place, but hotcakes did sound better than the nutrient void breakfast I got at Sonic. What a bad decision. Anyway, here's the skinny on our funny sleeping situation. The student apt. is located at the back corner of a partially finished basement under the hospital. That alone is funny to me. One minute, you are in the clinic . . . unlock a door and go down lots and lots of concrete stairs and you meet . . . Some kind lisping lady in a cage surrounded by taller than normal shelves full of colorful files and files and files. And I'm serious. It was a cage. Studded for sheetrock and then instead, covered with chicken wire stuff. Smaller squares though. Small enough holes for Warrick to get his finger stuck in and cry about it. Then to top off the weird cage file lady . . . they had hung small stuffed animals all over the chicken wire. So odd. And ironic. The animals are on the outside and kind lisping lady is inside. Raw cement floors, ceiling, walls and fluorescent lights. So, one minute you're in the clinic and the next you're stuck in a weirdo movie. I thought it would be unfortunate to work in these conditions, but, of course, there are worse things. Pass through the "lunchroom", complete with brainstorming posters about creating a better workplace and lots of leftover good food from the drug reps (thank you kindly for the free panera and pizza hut pasta) and we come to Brett's apt. door. Inside, looks like a mostly regular hotel room but with hodge podge towels and sheets that some one, no doubt, kindly donated. Furnished with small fridge, sink with disposal and microwave. One very nice feature was the small room shelved full of insurance claims to Blue Cross Blue Shield and every other insurance company, and oxygen masks or something I'm not familiar with. In our case,this small room was the nursery. Vera slept like a queen in her pack and play in this little room smelling of paper and envelope sticky. Perfect. It was on the other side of the bathroom. With the exhaust fan going, we were set. Warrick slept comfortably on a blow up mattress (don't tell me kids aren't supposed to sleep on them, I already know.) Here's another funny thing. You open the "closet" door of your "hotel" to find the secret land of record keepers. SHOCKING. One is always alarmed to find another human in their closet, but here are 5 more kind ladies, none of these lisping, but all working away in the little basement office room you thought was your closet. The records team. With quick access to your hotel room. Awkward. Awkward. Awkward. Try to stop your 2 1/2 year old from opening that door when you're changing clothes . . . since of course, he's made friends with these lovely women and they all think he's charming. But am I charming in my underwear? I guess it depends on who you are. And yet, another funny thing. What do you do when you are on vacation and the weather is worse than expected and your husband is working away and you have no where to go, but to play in a hospital basement? You bring matchbox cars, for one. You utilize your resources and unload the "lunchroom" drawers of their utensils and make up games with them, you push your son around on a wheely office chair. And then you let him push you. And then he pushes you so fast that you break the chair. Oops. Well . . . Brett pulled a wheel from another broken one and fixed it anyway. Then you drive to the grocery store in town, then to the John Deere and tour the machinery. We actually went the night prior when Brett was with us and climbed up into several large something or others. Sprayers, combines, big big somethings. I'm sorry, I'm not entirely ignorant about farm equipment, but mostly. And get this, the keys were in one of them. But we opted not to drive it around. Very tempting though . . . . very tempting. Utility park is a really lovely place. The Pipeliner's Wives, whoever you may be, chose a wonderful community service project by repainting the park swings and merri-go-round, everything parkish, by the way. Beautiful. Utility park also is home to the Clay Center Zoo. Interpretation: Cement and chain link cages housing wild animals smelling of urine. Now, while this sounds incredibly negative (it would be, if you were made to run in grass and climb trees and interact violently with other animals). But the positive side, is that you get to view very wild animals up very close and very personal. Arctic foxes. Deer. A bizarre assortment of birds. Wolves. Bunnies. Emu, which make the weirdest dinosaur noises, if you didn't already know. A black bear. Tiny twin goats that made friends with Warrick and let him pet them for a long time. And the highlight . . . . the monkeys. They entertained us well, and even inspired Warrick to climb fences. But, here was the grown up funny highlight. The guy that feeds the animals in the morning says, "Yeah, the mommy is the mommy of the daddy, and the daddy got one of his babies pregnant. So, we're a little worried about what this one's gonna look like - maybe five legs or some kind of deformity. " Draw that family tree. I guess it's funny, but kind of sad and gross too. So . . . a funny substitute for a vacation, but Brett and I both agreed that it was memorable and that the people of Clay Center, with great consistency are very kind and generous of spirit.