Good to know
I spent a lot of the drive looking out my window. Ahem.
A few things I learned this week.
Road tripping with children is a fool’s game. I’ve read all the blogs and every earnest pin about how to make long car rides fun, educational and SOMETHING YOU CAN LOOK FORWARD TO AS MUCH AS THE TRIP ITSELF! Whatevs, super moms. You are all smoking crack. Road trips are an exercise in brutality against parents. Zuzu is actually delightful car rides. She looks at books, stares out the window and SINGS HERSELF TO SLEEP. Viola on the hand is a monster. She screams, she throws french fries, she pounds on the windows while shouting, “OUT OUT OUT! LEMME OUT!” And she never, ever sleeps. There are few things as disconcerting as a toddler grunting at you with her eyes wide open at two in dark morning.
This time, we were determined to take control of the situation. So before embarking on our drive to California we went to Walmart and bought a DVD player for the car. We started the trip confident. Surely, ten hours worth of cartoons and movies were the kryptonite to our daughter’s seemingly inevitable transformation to the Vehicular Troll of Misery. (Like I said, a fool’s game.)
The movies, the sing alongs, the cartoons didn’t do a damn thing. Zuzu had to lean against her screen to hear the sound above the roar of her sister’s righteous indignation. Do you have any idea what kind of headache is produced by the combination of Dora the Explorer and a shriek that lasts from Cedar City to Orange County? I am six Excedrin and three Diet Cokes in and I still can’t shake the thing.
I work best under pressure. I’ve had five weeks to write the talk I am giving tonight. Over those five weeks I have started and stopped talks on: sexuality, the feminine divine, the current state of the worldwide women’s liberation movement, birth and on one day apparently very in need of caffiene, The Ten Best Ways to Avoid Your Own Children. Last night, it finally came to me. I stayed up way too late writing it and I might cry the entire time I deliver it. But I am proud of what those late hours and I did together. I will post it here Monday. In the meantime, I need a nap.
Sometimes you just want to be a kid again. Remember what it felt like to pedal away from your house on your little pink bike? Out into the neighborhood’s streets, under trees and by sidewalks that seem just for the moment like they belong to just you? I sometimes miss the simple adventures of my youth. The one’s without risk or the need to choose one good over another. There was no sacrifice in my childhood romps, only possibility. A new song by Mindy Gledhill brought back a few of those moments. For just an instant, I felt like I was five and free and on the edge of everything.
Happy Adventures. Happy Weekend.