one woman’s journey

Sounds so regal, doesn’t it?  

Not really.  Here goes:

Yesterday I drove part of the way home from my parents with Nicholas and spent the night at my in-laws.  At my in-laws I was treated to a five-star experience including a nap, childcare, steaks on the grill, strawberry shortcake (made from strawberries that were picked that day) and a comfy bed.  And I was there for less than 24 hours.

I noticed my shoes were squeaking on the kitchen floor.  The spotless kitchen floor.  The floor that makes me nervous to have children in the house.  So, I took my shoes off.  As I walked, my feet actually squeaked.  That clean.  No lie.

After bidding farewell, I headed down the road, lost in thought.  I am finally lost in thought since the first time Maggie learned to speak.  See, she’s in Chicago visiting my parents.  So the car is quiet.  So very, very quiet.  And I am finally lost in thought.

At first, my mind really doesn’t know where to wander.  It has been so long since it has relaxed.  I got to be on a sort of mental offense instead of mental defense.  Normally it is answering rapid-fire questions such as “Mom, when you die do you want to be turned to dust or do you want to buried in the back yard?” or “Mom, Next year can my birthday party be a shark party and the year after that a Tinkerbell party?” or “Mom, if I love Nicholas more than anyone when I’m older, why can’t I marry him?”

So during this glorious period of mindless driving, I happened to rub my chin.  And what did I happen to find when I rubbed my chin, you ask?  A freakin’ chin hair that was long enough to have it’s own zip code.   I kid you not.

First thought: How long has this thing had to grow to get to this length?  Why did I not notice? Why in the hell did someone not tell me?  How many people have seen this beaute of mine?  Thank goodness it’s blond and almost invisible.  Almost.  Maybe no one saw it.  Maybe it is invisible.  OK,  Tweezers.  I need tweezers.  NOW.

Except I’m driving in the car.  There are no tweezers.  I didn’t even pack any.  I have children’s benedryl, children’s Tylenol, the thermometer, all just in case.  But no tweezers.  I can’t even pull off at the next exit and deal with this disaster.

About two hours later I got a little Ralph Macchio on the little sucker.  I plucked it out with my bare fingers.  Take that, grasshopper.  Of course, only later after searching my house did I realize that the tweezers were in my make-up case with me the whole time.  (and yes, a make-up case for me consists of mascara, Q-tips and tweezers.)

The last time we drove back from Louisville, I was the lucky passenger, which means I got to read, surf my phone, and generally kick back during the ride.  At one point I noticed a truck going 65 miles an hour on the other side of a road barrier where the highway split during a few miles of construction. The window was down and I thought to myself that must be a lot of wind.  Then I saw a garbage bag blowing in the drivers seat.  And I thought to myself Holy crap!  There is no one driving that truck.   My heart started to thump as I further inspected, assuming someone would pop up who had been recklessly picking up a CD from the floor.  But again I realized Holy crap!  There is no one driving that truck.  Right then the barrier ended and I saw that the truck was being towed by the U-Haul in front of it.  So really no one was driving that truck, but I didn’t need to use my superpowers to save the world.

This trip, as the lone adult, I had no time for such tomfoolery.

I had more important things to worry about.  Like my GPS getting amnesia and going off-route every 30 miles or so.  (Which, for the record, I don’t need on a trip from Louisville home, but I like to see how many miles to go and the estimated time of arrival.  Shut up.) Or my constant fear of locking Nick in the car with the keys.  Or dropping the keys into the toilet while I’m stopping for a pee break.  Or feeling like I forgot something.  Oh, right, I left Maggie there on purpose.

And because Nick gets to be pretend-only-child this week, he got to choose where we stopped for lunch.  He voted for Cracker Barrel, and who am I to argue?  The only problem being, I really wanted to take a nap, and after Cracker Barrel and given the fact that it was already his naptime and we were in the snooze-mobile, I was committing nap suicide.  And then I ate coma-inducing food, like chicken and dumplings.  Damn.

We ate.  He fell asleep about 6 minutes into the remaining hour of the trip.  I was doomed.  I needed chocolate.  I started planning my chocolate consumption for when I got home only to remember I hadn’t been home in five days so there was little to no chance that any chocolate would remain.  Double damn.  Oh, wait!  There is a piece of chocolate buried in my bag.  Oh, crap, it’s under the laptop, the four books I brought and never got to read, the fresh strawberries I got to bring home and various other randomness.  Better postpone my chocolate fix and concentrate on the road.

 Then the skies opened up.  So I was doomed to be without chocolate without a nap and driving through sheets of rain with cartoon-like lightening bolts striking in the direction we were heading.  Luckily that one spot sheltered by the underpass where I hit some type of water reservoir which sounded as though I had cracked the undercarriage in half, followed by hydroplaning for a few feet next to a semi seemed to have woken me up for the duration of the trip, dumplings or not.

And while I wrote the greatest memoir imaginable on the way home, it was all in my head and now I can’t remember a bit of it.  But on the plus side, Nicholas transferred to the bed and we napped for almost two hours.  That made for a spectacular end to my journey.

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3 responses to “one woman’s journey

  1. any story that ends in a two-hour nap is a good story.

  2. I love the color in this post…I can see the chin hair and the pincer grasp strength it took to get rid of it…And, seriously, alone time is awesome.

  3. I love it, Brigid. Right there with you. So glad you got the nap.

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