Need a Ride? Oh, Wait a Minute
Featured in the Dayton Daily News
My husband and I recently attended a wedding for a daughter of our dear friends. Following the ceremony, we offered to give another couple a ride to the reception. These people, too, have been treasured friends for years. Together we have traversed the spectrum of family in supporting one another through the struggles of marriage, parenthood, and the emerging joys of grandparenthood. This day, we were in celebration mode. One of our collective children was getting married. We were glowing. That is, until we prepared to leave.
As we approached my car, I remembered I had two car seats secured in the back seat for my grandchildren who were frequent passenger buddies. “Oh, no problem,” my husband commented as we opened the back doors. “We’ll just take the car seats out and put them in the trunk.”
Both of us promptly reached in to remove the car seats, so that we could make room for our guests. Needless to say, car seats are a bit more complicated than they were when my children were little. I believe current car seat engineers must to work at NASA and the Department of Defense before given license to design child restraints. Moving them once secured is next to impossible. “No problem,” I added adopting a very unflattering position, wearing a dress with high heeled shoes; one knee on top of the car seat and one very exposed varicose vein-mapped leg grounded on the floor of the car, stabilizing my contorted position. I was using my entire body weight in effort to unclasp the safety clasps. My still fresh makeup was melting on my face as I tried to push, pull, squeeze, and plead with the security locks. “I’ve almost got it,” I said as I grunted and cursed. My children, whose children I transport, are all about car safety. I would never argue the principle, but does it all have to be so grueling?
Our friends politely waited, offering to take an Uber, but eventually we did it. Feeling victorious, my husband and I lifted the car seats. To my profound dismay, in their place, was a historical remnant of car rides with my little ones. Cheerios, dried yogurt, crushed crackers, gummy snacks, lost puzzle pieces, miniature princesses and hot wheels were scattered throughout the back seat. I looked at my friends, all dolled up in a black dress and pressed black suit and smiled with knowing. They, too, lived in this world of grandchild disorder.
My husband and I did a quick sweep of the clutter, making way for our friends. I used my wrap to line the seat, inviting my girlfriend to sit protected from the dried yogurt blotches (at least I think it was dried yogurt). We carried on with our day refocused on the celebration which brought us together.
I guess the moral of the story is that when your kids grow and begin lives of their own, you have some misconception that order will once again reign in your life, your home, and your car. Clearly, for me, that was all a ruse. Now, I have grandchildren that I love to be with. I guess I have reconciled that stickiness and spills will remain in my life for a while. I’m ok with that, and I’m thankful I have friends who are ok with that as well. Order, after all, is a bit overrated when little pudgy legs or sparkly purple shoes run to Nona’s car with excitement.