Hi, Iâ€™m Chantelle and I blog over at Mom Went Crazy. As you can tell by the name I have a notoriously short fuse.
I have learned a lot of patience since becoming a mom, but, like most of you, I need my own downtime.
Last Saturday was a particularly trying day for me. Lack of sleep combined with a teething baby doesnâ€™t do much for the soul. My poor three year old took the brunt of it after the one hundredth round of â€œwhy mommy?â€
At 3:05 my husband came home from work. At 3:06 I was in my car.
My car is my refuge on days when Iâ€™ve had enough.
When I was a teenager it was a way to escape my house, my parents, and the rules.
I was so excited to get my driverâ€™s license. Iâ€™d go get milk, pick up my brother, or drop off the dry cleaning. Hell, Iâ€™d do it all and more just to get a chance to get behind the wheel and cruise.
When my first love broke my heart, I got in my car and drove around, crying and listened to love songs.
My car took me to more parties than I can count. It took me and my friends to prom. We smoked dope in the backseat and drank mickies on the hood at the beach.
When I was in my twenties I loved having the freedom of my own apartment. I didnâ€™t need my refuge as much. The car became just a tool like any other. It was necessary to get me from point A to point B.
Now that my house has a man and two short people, Iâ€™ve rekindled my romance with the steering wheel.
When Iâ€™ve had enough, I escape my house, my kids, and the responsibilities.
I roll down the windows and donâ€™t worry about which child is cold.
I blast the radio and itâ€™s not â€œwheels on the busâ€
I get ice cream and I donâ€™t have to share.
In my car, there are no bills to pay, no kids to feed, and no house to clean.
Iâ€™m that girl again.
In my car, Iâ€™m me.