Thoughts that drive us

I rarely listen to the radio. I mean, I rarely even turn it on in my car. Who am I kidding, I mean in my minivan. My Gold Lame' minivan with the stow-away seats, at that. Anyhow, I pretty much listen to one of two things: one is the hollering banter of my children (including crying, whining, begging to stop at a drive-thru, and rollicking laughter if someone happens to pass gas), and the other thing I listen to is the thoughts in my head. No, I'm not schizophrenic. Or maybe I am, but the point is, as soon as my eyes are fixated on the road ahead, I begin to sink deep into thought. I think about all the things I have to do, I plan out events such as Thanksgiving dinner, I wonder about my childrens' future, I even have pre-rehearsal choir rehearsals in my head, running through what I need to cover with my crew next time I see them. I realize that I do this because it is the only time in my life that I have a moment to spare; my kids are all strapped in and nothing else is taking my attention (well besides traffic, I know). I get a couple seconds in the bathroom once in awhile, but it's not the same, because I'm usually listening for screams or the doors opening and children escaping, dogs barking, etc. Driving lends itself to a bit more peace, thought-wise.
The peace is abruptly halted, however, when a destination is reached. Single, childless girls, take a moment to celebrate your single childless-ness. Love it. Embrace it. 'Cuz once you've got to pre-plan the stop based on how you're going to maneuver your children in and out of the car, traveling anywhere requires serious consideration. When I was single, I remember saying I was going to "run" here or there. "Gonna run to Walgreens and buy some deodorant..." or something. In the car, outta the car, so on and so forth. Now, I don't run. I haul. I don't mean haul as in haul tail, either, I mean haul like a donkey hauls oversized people down the Grand Canyon. Now I start to feel twitchy when I pull into the Meijer parking lot. It's imperative to get a spot next to the cart corral. I like to grab a cart and then go unload the kids, and I can't do that if the cart corral is four spaces down from my parking space. So I circle the lot, and get more twitchy, because one child is asking if we can look at toys, one is asking to take his pillow in with us, and one is still sleeping and I'm praying she stays that way till we get back home...and I keep circling till I find the spot by the cart corral. Then it's still not "in the car, outta the car" kind of stuff, it's a calculated mission...take out the baby in her carseat, load her into the cart. Circle around the van, yell at the boys to stay inside and do not open the door and jump out...get to the other side of the van, open it up, load Gabe into the front part with the leg holes and then argue with Isaac about why I don't like him to stand on the little bar on the end of the cart because I can't steer. I always end up caving on that one, though.
The bottom line is, ladies, we've all got to take a little time to chill, and if it's driving that gives you that time, so be it. Our husbands don't understand this, and will never understand this because they are wired differently. For lack of time to make my explanation to this, I'll just say this: in their heads, they're "chilling" all the time.
So, you may be asking, is it the childless, single life I'm lusting after? Am I suggesting that I regret the lifestyle I have? Well, yesterday, to change things up, I clicked on the radio, and a song I liked back in highschool was playing, "Closing Time" by Semi-Sonic. I was on a rare trip out of the house without my children, so I cranked it up and immediately my head flooded with thoughts of other times I'd heard that song. I was taken back to late night drives home from my highschool boyfriend's house, the windows of my little red Paseo down, the smell of campfires and beachy air filtering in as I curved along Red Arrow Highway. I must have been seriously reminiscing, because I didn't even notice the ease of getting out of the car, or the convenience of how casual and stress-free my walk into Target was. However, to answer the above question about regret, I'd have to say no. You see, my nostalgic thoughts faded quickly as I found my body moving on auto-pilot to the diaper aisle. I realized that I have not only reached a new chapter in life, when diaper purchases replace the late night runs for deodorant or lipgloss, (usually a quick purchase on the way downtown to party for the night). Also, the company of my children, their neverending methods of entertaining me, and the reality that one day, I'll be back in a smaller sedan and no little faces will be in the rearview mirror looking back at me trumps any wistful thoughts of single girlhood I've ever tried to hold on to.