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Thursday, October 30, 2014

Thought lost

I've written recently about some of the pros and cons of traveling with small kids.  It's all true.  But I haven't touched yet on my absolute favorite part of traveling.

My most treasured and precious moments amongst the many, more grueling ones.

It has nothing to do with my kids.  Or my husband.  In fact, it's all about me.

It happens when I sit in that car, the kids all strapped in.  Unable to move.  It's the beautiful blank space before the needs and the fighting when I can tune out the world and just think.

I can finally, finally think.

I love to think.  Absolutely love it.  There's nothing better to me than getting lost in a good thought.

I used to love quiet bus rides home after school.  I didn't want anyone to talk to me.  Fine if you wanted to sit with me, so long as you could appreciate the art of silence.

I needed that time after a whole day of talking and people and one thing to another just to be alone with my thoughts.  I need it now too.  But I'm a mom, so needs such as quiet must be put on hold for the next 15 or so years.

Kids are, in fact, the absolute bane of my thinking existence.  I spend almost every second of my day getting things.  Breakfast.  Backpacks.  Drinks.  Diapers.  Crumbs.  Dinner.  It's not worth getting lost in a thought, because inevitably some needy little guy will yank me right back to reality, and the only thing worse than not thinking at all is the interruption of a good thought-in-progress.

By the time I'm done getting all the things and getting the things to bed, I'm way too tired to think.  Honestly, I can't even watch a good drama anymore.  It's reality TV or sleep, because everything else requires way more brain power than I'm willing to exert past 8:30.

And so I love that time when the kids are still excited and my husband is listening to music and not trying to talk to me and I get to be lost, for a short time, in my own head.

It's when I feel best about my life, and the people in it.  It's when I do my hoping, and dreaming.

On one particularly long drive from Italy back to Budapest, Joel turned down the music, and asked me what I was thinking about.

I hate this.  Truly.  And he knows that.

But he pressed on.

"I don't want to talk about it," I said.

I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it is like bait for Joel.  Once I say those words he will not stop asking until I talk about it.

I need to remember that for when I actually want to talk about something.

"Fine," I finally conceded.  "I was thinking about adoption."

Music back up.  Husband turned forward.  Alone with my thoughts, once more.

And so, in the future, should I want to be alone with my thoughts, my defense is set.

Just threaten more kids.

My thinking spot

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