Cruisin..

I’m 17, I’m carefree, and my boyfriend is about to pick me up to go driving. Just driving, nothing else. Cruising around, burning gas, just relaxing from what we thought was a stressful life. Being away from parents watchful eyes and dreaming about my future with my boyfriend. It’s 85 degrees; I’m wearing my tank top and cut off shorts, and its summer vacation. Windows are down blowing my hair wildly, sunglasses covering my eyes, and rocking out to whatever song seemed fitting for the occasion.

I’ve since forgotten the songs, and even the boyfriend, but the memories of cruising will forever be with me, and they all came rushing back when I was bombarded with a screaming baby, a 3-year-old who continues to repeat, “Why is Presley crying? Mommy, Presley is crying. Mommy…mom…mom…she’s still crying.” Oh, and the howling. I'm not sure why Ben was howling, but he was, I think he was trying to drown out Presley's screaming. After anticipating a peaceful ride with my husband, and assuming the kids would fall asleep, all I could do to ward off the inevitable panic attack was take a few deep breaths and try to remember high school summer break. We were on our way to a family dinner at a restaurant which was about 45 minutes away from home. There were going to be 17 people there, including us, and it wasn’t McDonald’s, before the car ride I had actually been looking forward to the dinner.  Someone else was sure to help with the kids and maybe, just maybe Adam and I could have an uninterrupted dinner that didn’t involve replacing dropped silverware, wiping faces, cutting meat, squeezing ketchup, or pretending that dinner was so exciting just so Ben would remain contently seated while we ate. But, by the time we arrived at our destination, my face was flushed, my hair on the back of my neck was drenched with sweat, and I was wishing that we had pulled through a McDonalds drive-thru and headed back home. It was fun nonetheless, hectic, but fun. Ben was pretty self-sufficient throughout dinner except for, “Mom, I gotta poop, “ and Presley was happy as long as we kept food in front of her, or a spoon to bang on the table. I’m quite sure that the other guests were pleased with this! I felt like a large group of hillbilly goat wranglers with as loud and messy as we were.

 Now that gas is on its way to $5/gallon, and the kids are either screaming or far too inquisitive for me to ignore, we don’t ‘just drive’ anymore, that is unless we have an obligatory destination. I’m not sure if it’s just us, or everybody, but if we are loading 2 kids, juice boxes, goldfish crackers, diapers, wipes, and a stroller in the car…we better have somewhere to be.  

Below is a short clip of my car ride. Keep in mind that this went on for about 27 minutes. I apologize for the jumping around of the clip, it's not my forte