We’ve Come a Long Way, Baby
Dear That’s Life,
Like the repeated working and strengthening of a muscle, one’s performance is supposed to improve with the repetition of a particular act. It is therefore unclear, after numerous visiting days in sleepaway camp and trips upstate, why I havebeen unable to perfect the experience. At this point it should be a science, though if there was an exam looming at the end, we would certainly fail. Despite how westudy, strategize and begin packing in advance, I cannot seem to do this better. I often feel we have made no progress, are stuck at stage one, with no end in sight.
Even before we get in the car at the crack of dawn, I am already anxious, worried we will be late. I envision my children waiting at the gate, wondering when we’ll arrive. Having seen those faces in the past, I refuse to let happen to my kids. As a result, I am even more of a joy than usual, completely incapable of having a conversation or even being polite as we trek upstate. We make one pit stop approximately half-way through the trip, stopping for only one perfectly timed and well executed bathroom break. Once my children are all together in one place, and we have arrived punctually, I instantly relax. Until then, however, it isn’t pretty.
The way home is a different story. Despite listening to seventeen traffic reports, reading forty-two text messages from friends who left hours earlier and checking three alternate routes preprogrammed into the GPS, nothing seems to matter. The same trip that takes three hours on the way up takes almost twice as long on the way back, getting us into our beds very late at night. Prepared for the worst, the car is stocked with enough food for the drive home or a week’s survival in the wilderness. The reality is to dig deep and settle in, understanding it will be a long journey home. As we say in this column, that’s life.
The hope is that irrespective of the traffic, the trip backis otherwise uneventful. An occasional bathroom break or coffee stop is not an event, nor is the cleaning up of a child who is car sick. Getting mooned on Route 80 East, however, is eventful, disturbingand leaves a mark. While it provided some Facebook humor, it was an episode I could have done without. Not a lone situation, other friends posting similar sightings are on their way home. Apparently, there was some kind of mooning epidemic of which I was not previously aware. At least when we were faced with that unfortunate tush, my children were watching a movie. Thank G-d for the little things.
There were many highlights to the day, even before the visual on Route 80. Excitement was provided by two unclaimed parked cars at Como Pizza that blocked my truck. I was enthusiastically encouraged by onlookers to hit both vehicles in an effort to get out of our spot. Trying to determine their owners, I canvassed those in and around the pizza store, but came up empty. “Hey, Miriam!” said a man who heard me shouting. “Now you have something to write about!” I reassured I always have plenty of material. No one should feel the need to give me inspiration.
Nevertheless, nothing compared to the end of the day when we said our farewells. In previous years, despite the fun being had, goodbyes have been tearful and dramatic. Keeping that in mind, we take precautions to ensure smoother transitions. Saying goodbye to my older child, I gave her a kiss and a hug, telling her that she would be home before she knew it. She looked at me peculiarly. “Why are you talking to me like I’m homesick?” she said. “Because you know: I’m not.” I smiled. “It was more like an FYI,” I explained to her with a wink, my eldest of six. “Enjoy your time here – because it WILL be over before you know it.” She smiled. She got my point.
Not as seasoned, we were concerned about my other child, although as it turned out there was nothing about which to worry. After giving final hugs and kisses, she looked at me with a twinkle in her eye and said, “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” I stopped in my tracks, completely taken aback by the comment. Afraid she was in trouble, though she was just using my words against me, I promised her I took understood what she meant. If anything, I was relieved. “Do you know what that line shows me?” I asked her. She shook her head, so I readily explained. “It means you are doing great,” I said with a smile and a final hug. She, like her sister, got my point, too.
I guess we are making some progress after all.
MLW
As Seen in The South Shore Standard July 22
