The Drive

4:37pm. "I need to get going", I say to myself. I have learned that if I don't leave my office by that time, that I hit 5pm traffic in town before the interstate, and it takes me FOREVER to get home. I also have learned that chances are the second I am walking out of my office, our department, down the hall, or out of the building, someone may catch me. I have to plan for these things now since I'm picking up the kids from daycare.

I work about 30 miles north of where I live. In Iowa terms, that means I have about a 30 minute commute one way. No biggie. I actually kind of like it - especially in the morning. I look forward to the silence, just me and my XM Radio, which I swear is a gift straight from heaven...Prince, Sir Mix-a-Lot, and The Go-Gos at 7am - what else could you ask for!?!?

I don't exactly like the drive on the way home. Traffic is a mess, the interstate is packed and the drivers are idiots! I have made this drive for nearly 8 years, and have said that I don't like the commute coming home for nearly all 8 of them. Then I had kids...

Our daycare is in the town where we live, so I have to make the entire commute home in order to get to them. While at work, I am so distracted and just kept moving, so I don't dwell on the boys. But when I get into the car, it's all about getting to them. Getting back to them so I can hug them, smell them, take care of them and be their sole provider for the next couple of hours before bedtime, even though I paid some stranger nearly peanuts to watch my children for the last DAY! (guilt guilt guilt guilt....)

That half hour on the way home though has always been interesting. I'm able to think about the day, reflect on what happened (and what didn't), what I need to do tomorrow, what I need to do at home, but mostly, how are the boys. It's during that time that all the guilt that I was able to avoid during the day, just drapes over me. I also dwell on the fact that I haven't seen my kids for nearly 11 hours at times, if at all that day yet. I feel my blood pressure rising, my foot is a little bit heavier on the accelerator, and I cannot get there fast enough. I pity the person that gets in my way, especially in that last half mile. Wild dogs could not keep me away from that place.

Tyler spelled his name for me tonight...and I didn't teach him that. Actually - I haven't taught him most of what he tells me because I have never thought he would be READY for that yet. They taught him sign language at 18 months, then the Itsy-Bitsy Spider, ABCs, and now he's writing letters. All things that I wouldn't have taught him at home because I wouldn't have known that he would be ready, or even more shameful, the patience to teach him. With 2 there is always something ELSE to do - laundry, cleaning, bills, a stiff drink, etc. By 8pm I am barely functioning myself and feel teary-eyed and weak with the mere thought of reading the Dinosaur Book one more time, or 5 more times, but we do.

I'm very thankful that he has 20 or so other moms that help him, teach him, and love him, but during that half hour on the way home, I'm the only one that could exist for my boys in the world, and I'm pretty sure I'm the one that needs them. I snatch them up, give them a hug, and truly enjoy the conversation Tyler and I have on the way home. They have the patience and knowledge to teach my kids things that I couldn't, but at the end of the day, when I walk in to their rooms, my boys know exactly who I am, and come running to me. Their mom.