Scenes from a Car

These days, I call my car a torture chamber on wheels.

Generally my mornings consist of planning, packing, dressing and tears (mine mostly). We get piled in the car after 4 hours of preparation and head off to our daily activity. I am already exhausted, but not my kids...they are ready to go.

Patrick starts screaming the minute we strap him into the car seat. I have tried pacifiers, toys, opening his window, different music on the radio, static on the radio and basically anything short of steering with my feet so I can reach into the back and help this poor little creature. The kid just hates the car. I have come to accept it. Hey, we all have our things.

And my Grace is a talker. I love her for it. But being trapped in a small box with a two year old who would talk to the wall if it would answer her back just adds to the torture.

Here we are all strapped in and ready to go:

Patrick is screaming

Grace: "Mama, 'member last morning when I got a boo boo on my knee?"

Me: "yes, Grace, I do."

Grace: "It's almost all better. See?"

Me: "Yes, its almost better. I see."

Grace: "No, you didn't look, Mama."

Me: "Well, I can't look right now, Grace. Mama's driving."

Grace: "Why?"

Me: "It's not safe to take my eyes off the road."

Grace: "Why not?"

Me: "Because we could crash."

Grace: "Then we would have to go to dat hospital where you work?"

Me: "Yup."

Patrick screams have gone from "I am not really digging this car seat" to "If someone doesn't come get me outta here, there will be hell to pay."

Grace: "Mama, can I have a snack?"

Me: "Sure."

I reach in to my bag, fumbling around. Finding everything except the friggin' goldfish I know are in there SOMEWHERE.

Me: "Here you go, Grace. Don't spill them."

Grace: "OK, mom. I won't."

Patrick is still screaming. Throwing an absolute hissy fit. I am starting to twitch.

Grace: "Uh oh, mom. I spilled them."

Me: "Oooooof course you did."

Grace: "Are you mad at me?"

Me: "No, Grace. Accidents happen."

Grace: "Sorry, Mama."

Me: "Grace, how about you listen to your songs and relax"

Now, we have Patrick screaming, Raffi blaring and Grace singing.  It's the perfect trifecta.

Grace is starting to ramble about something, and I am trying to zone out and go to my happy place.

Grace: "Mama, are you listening to me????"

Me: "Yup."

Grace: "I don't dink you are. You're fibbing."

 Me: "How about I give you your paci and you take a little snooze."

Don't judge, people. Yeah, so she still has a paci. Desperate times, my friends. Desperate times.

Wait...what is this?!?!

~Quiet.~

 Has it really happened?! Have they both fallen asleep?!

HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! I can actually hear choirs of angels singing.

As we pull into the driveway, I am almost giddy with the thought of getting them both down for naps. I could actually eat a sandwich with BOTH hands and maybe even throw in a load of laundry in peace (I know, I know...the things mothers wish for).

And then it happens...

a series of tiny little sneezes from the car seat. I close my eyes and say a little prayer. But despite my pleas to the big guy upstairss, Grace's eyes fling open.

Grace: "Mama, I'm not tired. I want to watch TV. I want to eat lunch with you. No more naps. It's day time. Did you hear Patrick sneezing? Maybe he has a lil' cold. I had a lil' cold last morning. Mama, why are you banging your head on da wheel?"