Kids, Carseats & other feats of amazing significance.

Most people think to themselves, "I want to go somewhere" and then grab a bag (maybe), their keys and walk out the door. They get in their car. Start the car. And go. That doesn't happen in our world. It is a task that sometimes feels as grueling as climbing a mountain. First, is the gathering. The bags. The diapers. The wipes. The returns to the store. The shopping lists. The sippy cups. The snacks. The activity bag (no getting bored). The coupons. The directions. The agendas. Next is the ushering out. This sounds simple... open a door and have children move towards the car. But sometimes the direction goes askew. The play ground beckons. The tricycle must be ridden. The water hose must be tampered with. A hershey's kiss must be deceptively snuck out of gramma and grampa's nest (efficiency apartment). If I can get them to the car and still have them avoiding the appealing mud puddles or rocks from the driveway then comes the next step. The wrangling into carseats. Sometimes this feels more like trying to rope tie a hog covered in oil. Not that I've done that. But I do have imagination. Getting kids over seats into the right seats and having them strapped securely. Being sure to avoid kicking a fellow sibling in the face while diving back into the way back is not something to belittle. This takes serious skill. After carseats is the final round and chorus of moans, cries, pleading, begging, or gabbing. "I need my doll." "I have to go potty." "I forgot my milk". "I need blankie." "I need my fuzzy." "Mommy, he hit me." Recently while pumping gas in the car I was informed very loudly by my daughter, "Mommy, Ian's throwing chicken nuggets at me." I was alarmed by this misbehavior but even more so because we hadn't had chicken nuggets in several days! Not only did he manage to accurately hit his sister in the back of the head with a nugget but also landed one on the dashboard of the car. Whining subsided. Passy found and soothing in progress. Thumbs are being sucked. Crackers are being eaten. Milk is being drunk. I slide into my seat. I manage to safely back out and NOT hit Ben or my Dad's vehicle and we're on our way. Rocks are crunching underneath and we leave our home to enter the unknown. Once we hit paved road we know we are successfully on our way. We are headed to "town." Seriously, yes, that is what we say. We say, "We're going into town. Need anything?" What are we? Little House on the Prairie? I don't think of myself as a country girl but how can you NOT be country when you ask the question of anything followed by "while I'm in town." "I'll go there when I'm next in town." "I will make that return while I'm in town." Yeah, it's like that. Sometimes a thumb is not enough. Michael likes to suck on all his fingers!