When the kids were younger, we’d sometimes load them into the car right after supper and start driving, gradually lulling them to sleep by sheer tedium and the gentle lullaby of the wheels on pavement as it lub-dubbed down the highway. If all went according to plan, we would pull into their grandparent’s drive in time for breakfast.
Craig always took the first shift, while I held out for the “night drive,” when his eyelids would start to get heavy despite his best efforts to stay awake to “keep me company.” Within minutes of my taking the driver’s seat, the familiar rumble of sweet sleep began to emanate from the passenger’s seat. And I’d smile.
Not all of it was so idyllic, of course. Pounding all that Diet Coke can give a girl a headache. And yet, for me night driving is the perfect metaphor for parenthood. Most of the time, I drift along in this fuzzy yet pleasant haze. Other times the senses are hyper-alert, painfully aware that any moment something big and dangerous can leap in front of you and endanger all you hold dear while everyone else is blissfully oblivious to your discomfiture, napping or reading or otherwise occupied. Your only real company, it seems, the dog, who creeps up and lays his head on your knee, sensing a need to be vigilant …
It’s not always a bad thing, this conditional solitude. The mind wanders, pondering (and even solving) problems, making lists, ruminating about all the possibilities of life. A welcome respite from a world of unmitigated noise and distraction. You know it can all change in the flick of a radio switch, which makes it that much more precious. And so, you drive.
How is parenting like night driving for you?
Photo credit: Drunken Pineapple