Road Trippin'

My car has gotten some miles on it in the past two weeks. I've been to a small town close to Arkansas for a home study (such a sweet family, I really love my job), Henry and I adventured to KC to see my college gal pals and all their littles, and we are currently on our way back from OKC where we attended my cousin's wedding.  Through all of this time in the car I've come to terms with something about myself...

I HATE BEING IN THE CAR!

Oh good gravy people!  According to my husband, I am quite the backseat driver. Which is silly.  I like to consider myself as extending my roll as his helper in all areas of our time together. So why not in the car?  Aren't statements such as; "You're driving like a grandma, speed up!", "You have no idea where we are! Why don't you EVER look up directions!?", "Seriously, if ya drive over the butt tingles again, guard yourself cause you're gonna get hit."  helpful?  He totally loves it and it draws us closer and closer with each passing mile. 

Just last night while venturing back to our hotel... Late... Following my brother in law (who didn't know where the heck we were)... In a city we are never in... I revealed to Chris I die a little each time we are in the car.  All the while placing the seatbelt over my forehead and leaning forward.  Dramatic?  I think not. 

I like to keep things interesting and the husband on his toes. 

Now, driving by myself can be both good and bad. I love controlling the radio, I love my quiet space, but I hate having a numb butt after 30 minutes and knowing I am trapped for the next x amount of miles. Add a kid to the mix who hates stop lights and being restrained and I'm surprised I still have hair. 

But, alas... The past two weeks of traveling have been filled with a rewarding meeting with an amazing adoptive family, tons of laughs and love with the ladies I did life with during my growing up years, and a sweet reunion with family I don't see enough.  So, I am cursing the Dunkin' Donuts coffee which is not decaf and which is making me feel like I am crawling out of my skin. Because I've still got 3 and a half hours in the car and the warm fuzzy feeling I currently have can only last so long.  Freaking toll booths and husband who wants to be the next American Idol are bound to wear on me. (I love my husband. And he loves my sarcasm. Have no fear.)