Wildflower Writes

You’re in the back seat, arguing with your sibling over who’s turn it is to play with the cheap kid’s meal toy. Suddenly, your body jerks forward as your loving parent slams on the brakes. Does this sound familiar to anyone? It’s one of those parent discipline techniques I’ve kept for my repertoire. Only, today, it didn’t work so well. I was running late to double little league games and my children were arguing: “Let me see it!” “It’s mine!” “Let me see it!” “It’s mine!” This continued for at least a minute before I found a grassy shoulder, checked for any traffic behind me and then did the brake slam. The car didn’t stop. It slowed and eventually stopped in the grass. It felt like it does when you hit a patch of snow or ice and you eventually slow when the tire meets pavement. Except it’s June. The kids didn’t even stop their arguing. I wondered if it was a one-time thing. Finally I asked who the toy belonged to and pronounced judgment that she could do what she wanted wit...

I dragged myself out of bed this morning, with a checklist in mind: fold last load of clothes, check the weather, finalize directions, get reservation confirmation, pack snacks… I’m not good with frustration, especially when I know exactly how I want something done. This morning seemed to be one frustration after another. I did figure out that if I take some meclizine before I travel, I can read in the car and not get car sick. This was a great first for me, allowing me to pore over Malcolm Gladwell’s “The Tipping Point” while my husband drove and my kids alternated between being hungry, thirsty, and bored. As I read, I had this vague notion of missing out on the landscape and landmarks we drove by, but was too engrossed in the rise and fall of Sesame Street to care. It was around Decatur, Indiana, that I had to finally put my book down. There was a restaurant that resembled a railway car. An insurance business was housed in a large white castle. An auto repair shop was painted a brill...