Well! Here it is April 10th and we’re gearing up for as much as 20 (TWENTY!) inches of snow overnight. I thought we were done worrying about plowing our driveway and heavy winter coats and the dogs tracking salty slush all over the floors but apparently winter is not done with us. Minnesota needs a junkpunch.
In related news, Zack is out of town for work and due home late tonight. Which of course won’t happen if flights are canceled because of the snow storm, so solo parenting could continue for another day. Really, it’s not so bad and he’s only been gone one full night but MAN. Nora and I just got back from a road trip to Illinois for my best friend’s baby shower so really I’ve been solo parenting with only a tiny break since last Thursday. Despite being super helpful, my mom is still grandma, not co-parent, you know? I am ready for our regular two-parent life to resume for awhile.
Can we talk for a second about road tripping with a baby? Because I’ve done it a couple of times now, twice by myself, and let me tell you, it’s not for the faint of heart. Nora is great for the first three hours; she sleeps for two, amuses herself or is willing to be amused for approximately 45 minutes, spends 15 minutes ramping up and then all hell breaks loose. There’s no reasoning with a seven-month-old and my singing the same four songs on loop at the top of my voice only goes so far. Suffice it to say that we arrived at both ends of our trip sweaty and frazzled. I did find it helpful to crack a window so we had some cool, fresh air and white noise going in the car, but it still took her 30+ minutes to cry herself out which, in a tiny Mazda3 with her mouth very close to my ears, was achingly loud. Road trips seem to be much more successful when there’s someone to ride in the backseat for infant soothing/entertaining purposes.
As a child of divorced parents who live multiple states apart, I am something of a road trip professional. My siblings and I use the bathroom before we head out and then only stop when we absolutely have to. We don’t mess around. It’s kind of a point of pride in our family that we plow through car trips like our destination is going to disappear if we don’t reach it fast enough, so you can imagine how it KILLS ME that I can’t breeze through the six hour trip to my mom’s without stopping four times. Ah, well. At least she’s cute I guess.