Wilder was a happy man in Shreveport … By Hope things were getting ugly.
I am a praying woman and when it came time for our first road trip I enlisted my other ladies in prayer to ask (beg beg beg) for easy travel. The 350-mile trek to Bryant, Arkansas sounded like trying to run a marathon in high heels with a monkey on my back when I first thought about it.
But, alas it was still logistically easier than figuring out a way for the family to be together for the holidays down here in our three bedroom house (one room is an office and the other filled with Master Wilder’s necessities.)
And so we headed last week for our Mock Christmas with an 11-week old baby, a breast pump powered by batteries and a bottle warmer powered by our car cigarette lighter.
The trip was as good as one could ever imagine with a baby in tow. As we planned for the trip I had a grand idea that we would wake Wilder at his usual feeding time so as to stay on schedule. (cue laughter)
When he refused to wake and eat I text my sister who has a 21-month old. She promptly text back that I should be thankful he was sleeping “don’t poke the bear.”
When Wilder did wake later to eat and then decide to be really angry about being in the car I realized how bad it was to know you are miles from your destination with one angry little man. Wilder has on rare occasion screamed when I was driving. But I was always within 20 minutes of our house depending on traffic. To be trucking down the interstate miles from any exit and hours from your exit with a screaming baby is like sitting next to their crib with your hands tied behind your back. It’s pretty awful. And so on the way home last night I didn’t think twice about staying on schedule. I figure a few days of late nights is worth a few hours of happy (more like asleep) baby in the car. And so when the parents had to use the bathroom we hopped out one by one as the other drove in circles around the parking lot as I planned for an invention that would allow us to refuel while driving. I’m still working on that last part and so until then we’ll circle parking lots and whisper for hundreds of miles. It’s all worth it not to poke the bear.