Santa Eyes

I was contentedly driving down the road when from the backseat Ivy asked a question about another car’s blinker.  A lovely, educational conversation ensued about blinkers, how they work and why we use them. Then, as the topic was wrapping up, Ivy asked why it was still blinking after the car turned and kept driving.

I explained how blinkers usually turn themselves off after you turn or that you turn them off so you don’t confuse people and that even if it looked like it was still blinking as it went around the corner it was probably turned back off by now.

Ivy insisted she could see that the car still had it’s blinker on.

Now by this point we had driven close to a mile away from where we had seen the car with the blinker turn and that car was going in the opposite direction. The girl could not possibly still see the car much less check on it’s blinker status. This would also be the point where a smarter mother would have realized her daughter was just looking to disagree and let it slide. But my mothering skills are a work in progress so I foolishly pointed out that she didn’t know if the blinker on the car was still on because she couldn’t see it any more.

Wrong answer Mom.

Yes, she could still see it and it’s blinker was still on. Why was it STILL on?!

Slightly irritated my response contained facts about the impossibility of her seeing the other vehicle as well as the reasoning behind the high probability that the cars blinker was off.

My mothering needed much help that day.

 “MOM, I CAN SEE IT! I’ve told you a million times, I have Santa eyes!”

Ivy on bike

Her eyes see everything!

Finally napping mothering skills kicked in and I realized that I had been goaded into  a pointless, losing argument by my six year old.

The only way out would be sudden distraction or acquiescence.

Look Ivy!

Turkeys!!!

Chicago Driving

This past weekend we took a long overdue trip to Indiana to visit some friends. We had a great time, us adults had lots of time for visiting and catching up, the girls all played well together and their daughter even gave us a tour of the Notre Dame campus.

Thinking of the great time we had I was trying to mentally calculate when we’d next be able to get together when I remembered an itsy bitsy detail of the trip that was a bit of a problem – the drive.  Not that it was too far – no, it’s just that there is this place in between us, you may have heard of it, it’s called Chicago…

Ever since driving through the Windy City with Ivy screaming in the back (because that’s what she always did in the car as baby) and Henry the cat meowing incessantly (because that’s what he always did in the car) while I attempted to stay calm as I  crept along in traffic next to a semi whose trailer was burned out and swaying frighteningly in the breezes I’ve been a little twitchy about the whole driving Chicago with children thing.

I’m sad to report that the way over did nothing to calm my fears.

Construction appeared, traffic slowed down, kids started yelling.

It was like magic.

Dark, bad, black magic.

Fortunately, I was not the only adult in the car, the bad magic was short lived and we made it to our friends house…eventually.

Unfortunately, before I knew it our weekend together was over and it was time for the drive home.

The trip home started out great, we timed our leaving perfectly for Jane’s morning nap, part way through the drive we stopped for a break/lunch/shopping trip/shooting/African safari/run/fish watching/turtle finding/tent testing at  Cabela’s (Best store to take a driving break in with little kids!) and got back in the car for the last half (HA!) of the trip.

Apparently we forgot that this was the half with Chicago in it.

John and I had just congratulating ourselves on our timing, the fact that our  two youngest were sleeping, decided on our route through the dreaded city and just about when we had finished patting ourselves on the back (Foolish, very foolish, never tempt fate, traffic or small children.) we looked up to this:

Which is precisely when Jane woke up and filled the truck with an unmistakable sound and aroma, and then proceeded to tell us just exactly how she felt about that. Did you know that when you combine crying babies, poopy diapers, traffic jams, questioning 5 year olds and sketchy neighborhoods time slows down?  I was paying close attention to the passage of time and I feel I can accurately report that  John found a very nice apartment complex with a few empty parking spots, (which we used to do the fastest diaper change ever) a mere 7 million hours and 57 minutes after Jane’s initial blast. If that’s not some sort of evil magic at work I don’t know what is!

No matter the cause we aren’t about to let it stop us from visiting friends and family on the other side. We’ll be ready to drive back around Chicago just as soon as our blood pressure comes down, our knuckles regain their normal coloring, and our kids have all reached the age of 18!

Just kidding.

I think…