Road Trip

Remember road trips in the ’70s and ’80s, before seatbelts and portable DVD players? My earliest memories are of sprawling out on a quilt in the back of my parents’ station wagon, eating snacks, wrestling with my brother, and flopping over the seat to talk to mom and dad. We listened to Johnny Cash on eight-tracks, slept hours more than we usually did, and stared out the windows for entertainment.

In the ’90s, my friend Eric had a truck with a topper on the back, and he’d haul college kids up and down Highway 101 on road trips. One time we learned from a California Highway Patrol officer that it’s not OK to interrupt your road trip with a back-of-the-truck siesta by the side of the road.

Kevin and I made great memories driving across nine New England states in eight days. We drove unencumbered and with only a rough agenda, and when we were tired, we landed at any hotel we could find. That’s as close as I ever came to Bohemianism.

That trip through New England was my last road trip. I think it was 1997. When I got pregnant for the first time in 1998, the road trips came to a screeching halt. See, we are those rare people who don’t have to take road trips. Unlike nearly all of our friends, we are natives in this state full of transplants. (Have I mentioned I’m a fifth-generation Coloradan? Yeah, probably so.) Our children are the lucky ones who wake up every Christmas morning in their own beds, who have grandparents at every Grandparents Day, and who need only make a 15-minute trek across town to spend the night with grandma and grandpa. The other grandma lives a mere two hours away and almost always comes to us. As a result, our road trip muscles are weak. Maybe more like non-existent. We have children who fight and whine and cry, “Are we there yet?” on the hour-long trip to WaterWorld.

But this week, that all changes. We’re going to work those road trip muscles and prove to ourselves that we’re just as hearty as the rest of you. (Yes, even you Jamie, my Road Trip Superhero, who drives to Pennsylvania with your nursing babies, toddlers, potty-trainers, and preschoolers.) Our kids are 7, 10, 12, and 14. We have a Suburban, three Kindles, and a portable gaming system. How hard can it be?

But I have to admit, as I stare down this 40-hour round-trip drive to Toledo, Ohio, with a bulky family of six, I’m intimidated. A little excited, yes, but also a little anxious. Are road trips an acquired skill? Do we have what it takes? Will I be able to fulfill my commitment to be my best self on this trip—filled with grace and patience toward my husband and kids—or will I be ready to get out and walk by the time we hit Kansas?

Only time will tell. Lots and lots and lots of time.

A Well-Timed Day for Mothers

On May 9, 1914, Woodrow Wilson issued a proclamation declaring the first national Mother’s Day. Thank you, Woodrow. I’m guessing this act just happened to land on your desk in May, but what foresight you had to act on it so soon. A June Mother’s Day would be lovely, I’m sure, but by June, we mothers have almost recovered from the horrors of May. We’re starting to feel like ourselves again and recapture some of that vision and passion that made us want to be moms in the first place.

But in May? The vision and passion have been squeezed out of us. We are empty. We are tired—beyond tired—more like catatonic. We are at the end of our ropes. We need a day where we can sleep a little longer, eat a good meal we didn’t prepare ourselves, consume a few extra calories, and sit on the couch with our feet propped up while we open our sweet homemade cards. Yes, bless you, Woodrow Wilson.

In honor of Mother’s Day, I am posting a link to my favorite tirade of all time. Jen Hatmaker’s treatise on the end of school shot around the online world last year like a bullet, but it’s every bit as funny this year. Read it again. (I think she secretly lives in my house, or maybe even in my brain. Her world is my world, except with one more kid and maybe not so much soccer.)

Bless you Woodrow Wilson, Jen Hatmaker, and all you sweet, tired moms everywhere.

http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2013/05/30/worst-end-of-school-year-mom-ever