The girls and I headed to the swanky big mall south of here Wednesday for Miss A’s birthday party extravaganza (and yes we are still celebrating…cake and pizza on Sunday at our house with family). Our first scheduled stop was at Build a Bear.
It was a gorgeous spring day and I took the scenic route, a winding, hilly drive that takes you past beautiful homes, a golf course, and Nashville’s Steeplechase. The last few miles I decided to get on the “fast road,” which is what Miss C calls the interstate. Lord have mercy on my soul but mama is not used to driving on the interstate with all the close to 5 p.m. nutballs driving 80 miles an hour to make it to Chili’s happy hour with their buddies after work. I live a sheltered, boring life. What can I say.
We were in the right hand lane and getting ready to exit toward the mall when I noticed a guy in a silver sports car trying to merge and I waved him over. He enthusiastically waved back and I thought, “Well that’s nice.” Then I realized he was flipping me off with mucho gusto. The bastard.
It dawned on me that I was one of those annoying distracted mommy drivers (in an SUV granted, and not a minivan, but still) with two laughing, screaming kids in the backseat, windows half down, wind whipping through the car, a bluegrass CD blasting.
I instantly thought to myself, “Single asshole sports car driving dude must not have kids.”
Sometimes I long for those carefree sports car single days.
But on that day I longed for nothing but being a mama. And who can blame me? All the happiness in the world I could ask for was in the backseat.