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| Future Mommy Driver |
Clarification required. Driving and car safety has progressed from the dark ages when my children think I was young, into a bright and promising new dawn. As kids, Jess and I never wore seat belts. The law didn't require it. We rarely even sat in our seats. Our Grand Torino's locks opened from the inside even when locked with the car in motion. We were always up on our knees, arms wrapped around our parent's front seat headrests, blocking their rear view. Or worse, we were in the front bench seat, three across, no seat belts used. As infants, initially we weren't in car seats. It's been described to me as a pram frame that held a bed that was lifted from it's base and "shoved into the back seat." Rock on 1970's.
Limited driving distractions: Cell phones didn't exist. DVD players were a futuristic concept as were rear view cameras. GPS's that take eyes off the road and require programming were reserved for NASA. Rear heated seats, a pipe dream. Then, cars were not land roving tanks with state-of-the-art blind spots. Steve Jobs was in his late teens about to take his first bite of an Apple and the letter "i" was just a vowel -- not something that would eventually plug into your ears and your car. But kids will be kids and cars bring out the worst in them and us.
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| Practicing Mommy-like Focus |
If texting drivers, mascara appliers, cell phone hands-full-not-free navigators were the only obstacles that required vigilance, we'd get to our destination easily and peacefully. Throw three kids into the back seat and eating a grenade is safer.
"Mom, can I have a snack one wants to know." The other wants a water bottle to urinate in. Constant demands. Skirmishes. The DVD player is stuck and the DVD is skipping -- "mom, can you reach back to the third row and jiggle it." Back seat rioting. Windows up, windows down, hands out, faces out, American Girl doll air surfing at highway velocity. Bickering. Windows up and locked. Open the Pirate Booty. Open water bottles. Poking. Sneezes that require a tissue from the glove compartment. Seat belts undone. Seat belts too tight. Headphones tangled in nautical knots. Fighting. Absolutely no awareness that the car is on the highway, 60 miles an hour and multi-tasking is a developmental need of mine.
The chorus continues, "Chad, stop chewing so loudly, mom make him stop." Battling. "Hey, the radio is too low, make it louder please, change the station, again, again, again, stop." Often heard, "Oh no, my lucky rock dropped in between the seats. I want to play on your phone, hand it to me please. Drive with the lights on so I can read and I can color." "It's hot. It's cold. The vent is blowing on my feet. It's so hot in here I'm melting -- please turn our vents off." Who's brilliant idea was it to bring the dogs? "Mom, turn around, turn around, turn around and look what I made!" "You promised us you'd teach us how to do the box stitch."
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| Today's distractions, Tomorrow's drivers |
Getting from here to anywhere is an exercise in Andretti like driving skill and extreme focus with safety paramount. I kiss the ground after safely arriving at our destination.
Todd's parents made effective use of the "stop-the-car-and-get-out" technique. I've heard it was a kinder and gentler time for suburban kids left on the side of the road by exhausted and enraged parents. Once, my mom did the "reach-back-and-slap" to ensure car safety and to still my fresh mouth. The car wasn't even moving but she definitely felt safer after the TKO. My dad used to drive with Jess and me bumping around in the back seat. Windows were rolled shut while he smoked a Macanudo cigar. Jess and I were rendered unconscious from lack of oxygen -- he has no memories of our distracting him. I think he may have been on to something...
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