0. The number of times I have peed the bed during our trip so far.
1. The number of times someone has vomited in our rental car -- in this case within 50 feet of the entrance to the Freeway on which we were to spend roughly 35 miles.
9,717. The number of times I've fought back the urge to yell something like, "Hey, Dumbass family, do you NEED to have your family fucking reunion in the middle of the fucking road?" to people walking around in Disneyland.
9,718. The number of times the opportunity to utter those words has presented itself.
-1. Number of Dumbass Families who love me now compared to when we got here. Oh well.
3. The number of hotels we've stayed at since we've been in California.
0 for 3. Our travel agent's success record in finding us hotels with all three meager "must have" amenities we requested (pool, internet, gym).
0. Number of times I will ever use that travel agent again.
7. Estimated number of pounds I've gained back so far as a result of not being able to get my heart rate up regularly because shitty travel agent managed to find the only hotels in California without fitness facilities.
29. The number of over-priced meals I've eaten. Insult to injury.
0. The number of times I've had good sushi in California. Seriously.
15. The number of times I've felt dread about not being able to work out.
694. The number of times I've felt dread about having to go back to work -- especially since with the three-hour time difference, when we get home I'll have about an hour to sleep before I have to wake up to get ready for work.
3. The number of quality hours I've spent sleeping.
59. The number of times I've missed my bed at home.
59. The number of times on average per night one of the kids kicks me hard enough to wake me up.
59. The number of times on average per night I've returned to sleep and dreamed about being childless.
2. The number of cocktails Sandi and I have managed to enjoy between us on this trip -- me, a glass of wine with dinner, Sandi some über gay-looking rum punch thing at Rainforest Cafe.
3. The number of times that, because of my extremely limited exposure to televised news, I've actually seen anything about what's going on in the world.
58. The number of times that, despite my extremely limited exposure to televised news, I've heard about the flight attendant who quit Jet Blue.
2. The number of cups of decent coffee I've had on this trip.
45. The number of times since his surgery I've been certain that Ethan jostled his head sufficiently to knock his new ear off.
0. The number of times since his surgery Ethan actually jostled his head sufficiently to knock his new ear off, or even hinder his healing at all. He is "pink and wonderful," as Dr. Lewin says ... and, she assures me that's a really good way to be even though it sounds kinda odd.
7. The number of meltdowns the collective "we" has had so far.
37. The number of giftshops we've "browsed" during this trip to appease or stave off meltdowns.
93.7%. The percentage of people in Disneyland who need better mirrors in the stores where they buy their clothes.
19,056. The number of times I've been close-to-tears-happy that this ride is almost over.
0. The number of regrets about any of it. Because ...
8. The number of ears we're coming home with.
For those of us keeping score, so far we've gone to: Long Beach, Manhattan Beach, Griffith Observatory, Griffith Park, Sunset Strip, Hollywood Blvd., LaBrea Tar Pits, Pace Museum, Beverly Center, the movies to see Despicable Me (really good), Sea World, Legoland, Santa Monica Beach, Santa Monica Pier, San Diego Zoo, California State Aquarium, Disneyland, Downtown Disney, Disney's California Adventure, the pool, the hot tub. We still have three days left.
"One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do." -- Three Dog Night