I'm a mom of three.
I'm a MOM OF THREE. 3. Threeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
And Monday afternoon, driving north on the 405 freeway, I got a sense of what that means. I was ferrying my newest little one home from an appointment and I realized, "I'm going to be doing this a lot. I'm going to be that frazzled mom in the minivan, running one tyke home from an appointment so I can get back in time to run the tween off to another one."
And I'm not going to lie: I was a little bummed.
What happened to that spontaneous girl that would head off on a road trip just because? Or get a call and head out to a concert an hour later? Or just agree to a last minute lunch with girlfriends without doing the equivalent of a the White House social secretary's job in trying to fit that in between all the million things that comprise my schedule now?
Do you remember how intricate and regimented your schedule gets with a newborn? Because I didn't. Sheesh.
I want to be that adventurous girl again, the carefree girl who nods at passing danger with a twinkle in her eye and who welcomes unscheduled fun with a cackle of glee.
But no, there I was. In my minivan. Just another sleep-deprived mom driving down the freeway. In my minivan.
My minivan. . .
And then I began to smile. And then I felt a little bubble tickling up from somewhere under my ribcage. And then it escaped as a cackle of glee. Suddenly I realized: I am a woman who IS living life on the edge (as opposed to on the verge of a breakdown). I am a woman with a fantastic sense of adventure who flirts with danger and laughs.
Because . . .
I drive a TOYOTA.
I get in it everyday and fire that bad girl up and take a Steve McQueen-ish gamble that I can handle the sudden burst of speed that's lurking under my van's hood, waiting to slingshot me into a wild and untamed ride. I am possibly one tap on the accelerator away from becoming the lead story on the eleven o'clock news.
I am a CRAZY, nutjob of a DAREDEVIL.
Me in my TOYOTA.
I'm BACK, baby!