Vroom

It's been a crazy few weeks. Monkey has started ballet, Peanut has started guitar & piano, and Puddin' has started getting bored. Stan is wonderfully brilliant so he's much in demand for committees and meetings on top of his work-a-day job. He's also in a singing group that has started up again for the fall. I'm in the center of this mess, trying to hold it all together.

With Monkey & Peanut I'm trying to motivate them to work quickly but thoroughly so they continue to do well in school, practice instruments/dance so they can enjoy their activities, not to mention clean up after themselves so I don't hide their stuff. Where Stan is concerned I try to pick up the slack so he can focus his attention on the plethora of very good gigs he's gotten himself into. Poor Puddin' gets the short end - she just wants to play, read, snuggle, explore & other wonderful toddler things but her family is not cooperating.

In the midst of all this, we had car trouble. I took the dying car in for some work early on Friday and Stan took the more lovable vehicle to work. Our mechanic always has the car back to us the next day (at the latest) so it was under control. By Monday afternoon we still only had one vehicle and suddenly things got complicated. Stan had a meeting, I had guitar lessons, and we even had a sitter lined up. The "super-mom" in me felt the need to give up on my lesson time for the greater good of the family. The rest of me was screaming something along the lines of "over my dead body." [In all fairness, I must report that Stan offered to stay home from his meeting. I was the one putting pressure on myself, not the wonderful hubby.] After a mini-meltdown and a quick chat with the mechanic we were able to borrow his car and the whirlwind of activity resumed.

Over the next few days, driving around in someone else's car, I was acutely aware of when & why I was driving. I noticed that most of the day-to-day errands for the family I do walking, with Puddin' in the stroller. When I get in the car, though, I'm often doing something that I find personally rewarding. I walk to the grocery store but if I want good bread (which is a treat I adore) I have to drive to one further away. The kids and I walk to school every day but once a week I drive to meet with friends and chat about the goings-on at church. And then there's my guitar lesson - that blessed half-hour a week when it's all about me - which is hard to get to without a car.

I've never been a car person before. I resisted learning to drive for far longer than is normal, and was quite proud during my decade as an urbanite that I was above such things. Now I'm startled to discover that I find freedom in my car. As much as I bad-mouth it, I'm grateful that the peculiar little car is back. Long may it live.