Adventures In Motherhood

It’s just a used car. That’s what I told myself when we bought a second vehicle, smaller than a mom-minivan and bright fire engine red in color so our 16-year-old daughter could be seen coming and going. A shiny 5-star crash rated 2016 Hyundai Elantra; a Tesla compared to the rusty blue Datsun I drove in high school. The Datsun, a veritable Flintstone-mobile with a rusted out floor spraying sleet and rain on backseat passengers, was my ticket to freedom. The Elantra was my husband’s new sporty wheels to share with four kids. With street congestion and the planet burning up, we prefer life in the bike lane, except for our daughter. With Driver’s Ed in the rear view mirror, my carefully drafted parental contract signed, and cautious driver flying solo behind the wheel, unable to drive anyone but family per state law, we breathed a sigh of relief. The sibling carpool potential had me feeling giddy, a win-win for this taxi-driving mom! Father’s Day baseball tournam...

Be careful or the negative will consume you, I thought to myself summoning the energy to raise much-needed positive endorphins on a morning run. The 24-hour news cycle, global temps rising, and Customer Care Representatives who suck me bone dry will require a longer run this morning to combat the negative slime oozing in our country and polluting my mind. Keep America Great! The irony when 'customer care' reps deny, deny, deny or someone from India answers. Aetna health insurance is the bane of my existence after seven phone calls, each a minimum hour-long blood boiling conversation having diminishing returns on my mental health (which is also likely not covered). And what happened to common courtesy? Last night a lady refused to zipper merge me onto I-5 south, throwing up her hands in anger, as if it made her a better driver! I gave her thumbs up instead. Then there's the mid-century modern sofa we purchased supporting a boutique local business thinking it would be grand...

Parenthood is a Mensa mental challenge these days of major league proportions. Uncomfortable silence be damned! You are my son and I will keep rattling off topics requiring more than a yes/no answer until the cows come home, as we pass the pastures and rolling hills of Oregon en route to our latest baseball tournament. The hour and location unimportant, I have a GPS and my only goal is time alone with you. With four children, a car ride alone with you is a passable date as I step up to the plate. Deep voice and prickly moustache amidst your fourteen-year-old complexion, I can still see the almost 8lb 12.5oz little slugger with handsome sideburns gazing in my eyes with wonder. I know you still need your mom even though your replies sound more like grunts. Why is the answer to what you and your buddies ate for dinner while skateboarding last night 'stuff'? I'm mom and you're safe! This is my first time parenting a teen boy. Grunts and stuff may be the norm though ...