Sunday Drives + Writing + Baby Spawn
Today I embarked on the quest to write while on the driving part of a day-trip with my little family of four (obviously I wasn’t the one driving). We journeyed from one amazing beach at home to another one down the coast, just for a different view to cool off from this 32 degree heat (for our friends in the US that’s creeping up near the 90’s).
Mentally, the road was ideal for letting my mind wander and getting my creative juices flowing. I wish I could say it was also easy enough to sit back, relax and let them filter from my mind onto paper without issue. This would be a lie and for the purposes of this post, let’s just pretend I’m as honest as I am blonde.
Firstly, I’ve come to the undeniable reasoning that physically writing while cruising along small town roads can leave a lot to be desired; just hoping that when I make the move to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard, the words are legible enough for me to decipher later on. Yet, troubles with jotting down sentences are nothing compared to the torture of the baby spawn needing constant attention. I’m used to the word ‘Mum’ being used as often, if not more, as my children needing to breathe. But, today especially, I think the use of that word, surpassed the realms of even remotely tolerable and towards the end my ears may have begun bleeding at the sound. After talking, listening, talking again, answering a thousand questions, I say simply enough, "Mum just needs some quiet time to write." (insert world's briefest pause) "Mum, mum, mum, mum, mum, mum, muuuuuum, mum, mum, mum, muuuuuuuum,..." I eventually turn back, "Yes?" “Actually, I don’t remember what I was gonna say.” And STILL, it didn’t stop them.
But more painful than that, (I know, I thought it impossible too), was the husband. When the tiny satan's in the back seat were actually quiet, he felt the need to step up on their behalf. Even the evil eye didn’t deter him, he’d continue on with pointless stories of men suing their wives for making ugly children (what in the actual?) and pointing out trees he thought worthy of mention.
I managed about 600 words before I gave up and looked out the window at these bloody amazing trees (insert eye roll). I guess that’s better than nothing. Right? The day was also amazing and totally worth the torturous drive down.
I should be grateful, J was banned from even looking at her phone or computer, because apparently it’s antisocial on family trips (and if her husband can't scroll, she shouldn't be allowed to either). Small victories I guess.