Driving Me Crazy

First of all I want to say a big THANK YOU for all the support and advice in regards to my breastfeeding post. I'm working my way through all the amazing ideas and am praying baby girl starts packing on the pounds (instead of just me!). Whenever I reach out with my frustrations I know I can depend on my little village of parents to come to my rescue and help me feel like my problems are normal, fixable, and don't make me a bad mama. Love to you all!

As the clouds are starting to dump a huge pile of snow (worthy of a weather warning!) on our fair city my husband has begun to take the bus rather than risk the road in our van. For most Moms, the sight of an available, gassed up vehicle in the driveway causes a sort of jubilation. A chance to escape the Mom cave! For me, not so much. Our van is nothing more than a shiny paperweight without my husband here to drive it. Not because I lost my keys again (I'd never ever lose my keys... or my wallet... or my sanity). Not because I find getting 4 kids ready for a 15 minute outing too hard (okay, that too!). Not because we don't have enough carseats (we actually have spares in the basement. Don't ask). It's because I can't drive.

You read that right. I can't drive. Excluding a brief time right before my husband and I got hitched when I got my learners permit, I've never had a strong need or urge. In fact, I've had a strong urge to not drive for almost 15 years. Don't get me wrong, I love being in the car. Getting out of inclement weather, travelling quickly, and not having to walk everywhere is wonderful, desirable even. I would love to be able to park my fanny behind the wheel and whisk my crazy brood off to the doctor without forcing my husband to take time off work.

Before I had a family, not driving was easy. My Dad was a more than willing chauffeur (thanks Dad!), as was my Mom, oldest brother, and most of my friends. When a chauffeur wasn't available, I had no problem taking the bus. Our house was steps away from no less than 7 major bus routes so I could get anywhere I wanted with ease and relative speed with minimal planning. Not so much with 4 kids (although I must say I still manage this amazing feat with nothing more than an umbrella stroller and snugli. That's right, dig it). It takes a lot more planning and is sure a lot less easy than dragging my weary self out the door with minutes to spare.

It all started innocently enough. I felt justified even for my desire to not drive. As you read in my post about my birthday, I was struck by a car on my 16th birthday. Unlike most 16 year olds lining up at the DMV to write my beginners test I was in the hospital losing my lunch in a tiny kidney shaped dish (again, thanks Dad for being there for that madness). I was not the unsuspecting victim of a drunk driver, a person more concerned with a Tim Hortons coffee than the road, a woman apply mascara in her rearview mirror, he wasn't texting or on a cellphone, or even a student driver new to the road. The man driving was a seasoned driver who simply got distracted by his wife who was chatting with him from the passenger seat. He was just talking to his wife. Words almost killed me that day. And who says the pen isn't mightier than the sword? All jokes aside, as a teenager finally legally allowed to get my license I couldn't image myself as a safe driver when a man driving a sedan had become distracted enough by a conversation to hit me in a labelled crosswalk with flashing lights and a loud beeping sound. How could I, a girl easily distracted by shiny things and bits of string (I can build a nest!!!), be trusted to control something as small as a Smart Car? (Don't laugh, my parents owned one.Well... My Dad is over 6 feet tall, so, okay, laugh away. It was kind of funny in a clown car sort of a way.)

I've let my fear of hurting or worse killing someone behind the wheel paralyse me for years. I'm almost 30 years old now and I'm still living in the shadow of 30 seconds of my life. I've been able to make good of the consequences of that moment in almost every way. I took a trip to Italy with my insurance money. While there I found a relationship with God which led me to the community where I met my husband. Since the day of my accident I've never looked back. I even see it as a turning point that changed the path of my life so dramatically that I am actually incredibly thankful for it.

For all my gratitude for the positive things that happened after my car accident I still can't seem to let go of the baggage I took on about how dangerous driving is. As the snow falls today, I can't help but gaze out at our minivan, as paralysed in our driveway as I am by the idea of driving it. Something's got to give, and I promise it won't be the van (the parking break is on). This Christmas I'm going to give myself and my family a real gift. I'm going to go get my learners permit again. And this time, I'm going to take the testing for my full license too. I don't want my children to grow up with a mother who teaches them by her inability to face her demons that fear is so strong it can't be conquered. I will learn how to drive and get my license in the New Year. Feel free to hold me accountable because this time I won't back down. I'm going to go as soon as I can to take the test and get my shiny plastic ID card with the big L on it.

That is, as soon as my husband can drive me.

Happy Birthday to Me

Thirteen years ago today I had a birthday like no other. I didn't have an incredible party or take a special trip. I was in an accident. I was crossing the street and a car struck me and then sent me flying 10 feet. All I really remember is that in the ambulance I overheard the paramedics whispering about how surprised they were that I was conscious and relatively uninjured. Besides a mild concussion, a broken tooth and road rash on my face I wasn't hurt at all. One of them said with a smile I was lucky to be alive. I was doing so well I was back to school the next school day. 

Ever since that day, which seems like a lifetime ago, I've struggled with the feeling I should make good of my second chance at life. For a long time I was planning on becoming a nun. When the time came to join a religious order I dove in head first. It was on my birthday six years ago that that plan went out the window. There I was, a nun in my habit sitting next to one of the monks in our order more than a little distracted. It was a few weeks later that he and I decided religious life wasn't for us. The next year we were married the same month of my twenty-fourth birthday. 

Here I am a mere five years later and it's my birthday. I just (finally!!!) put my 9 week old baby to bed after a long day of family fun. I did nothing except for spend time with my husband and our four hilarious, wild, adorable children. Just like every other day since we welcomed each of them into our family my day was full of laughter, tears, diapers, dancing, singing and fun.

As I reflect on the past thirteen years I can't help but think that I truly have made good of my second chance at life. I've surrendered myself completely to the life given to me. I may not always be the perfect woman, wife or mother, but I'm trying every day to be what I need to be in that moment with my whole heart and soul.

I had a million little reminders again today how lucky I am to be alive. How lucky I am to have this life. And how lucky I am to be reminded every year to be grateful for every second.