I never thought I would say this, but I love driving. I even love driving with my kids, most of the time. You see, having recently upgraded my mum-mobile from my errrrmmmm “cosy” sedan to a more lifestyle appropriate vehicle I treated myself to a few new luxury necessary features which have turned what was once a guided tour through the pits of hell back into something people actually do for enjoyment.
Let me explain.
Just as an FYI, you should know that this post is sponsored by Nissan. But all opinions expressed by the author are 100% authentic and written in their own words.
My old car, well it served its purpose. If its purpose was to test my sweat glands via its non-compliant air conditioning, my sanity with its one continuous song play feature (courtesy of a pre loved baby biscuit lovingly wedged into its radio console) and my ability to refrain from using some non-family friendly expletives when attempting to play Toddler-Tetris cramming my growing offspring into their seats. I kid you not, I actually had to drive holding a bottle of frozen water up to the air vents in summer to prevent my children drowning in a pile of their perspiration. You can imagine how sad I was to throw the key at the new buyer and say farewell to that little gem.
Any who, the time had come to purchase a new set of wheels. Desperately clinging to the hope that I may still in some way be “with it” (do people still say this?) my heart sank as I perused the available selection of mini vans and urban tanks marketed at those like me, who enjoy punishment in the form of several small humans controlling your life and ruining all your sh*t, and that for some reason require a whole lotta space to house all their junk (seriously, why do they need so much stuff?!). However, just as I thought my only option was to purchase one of these ‘practical’ cars, slip on a pair of pyjama jeans and sensible sandals and be done with it, luck presented me with my dream car. Roomy and practical, while still being sleek and sexy. (The same does not apply to pyjama jeans FYI). I was over the moon.
So here I am, once again loving being on the open road. And by that I mean, the road between my house and the supermarket because so far it’s only been a few weeks and I am yet to plan anything more exciting than that. (Also, I went to the Xmas sales and have lost all faith in humanity so have been hiding out at home a lot, but that’s a separate issue) Remembering all the fun times I had on driving holidays with my family growing up. “Oh look, a tree!” and hoping to create some slightly better memories for my kids, I got to thinking, what do I love about being in the car?
Endless games of eye spy are currently a hit with my kids at the moment (although at two and a half, my son doesn’t really understand that you actually need to choose an object for this game to work and simply sits behind me screaming random letters like we are on some acid trip game show) and to be honest the baby occasionally bats a toy away in his capsule and makes a grizzle, so I’m not sure how much he is loving it but really, memories in the making.
The beauty of the new car vs. the old box on wheels is that now when his two year old mannerisms take hold and frustration mounts over my inability to guess what “D!!!!! H!!!!!!! T!!!!!!” actually means, there is enough room behind me for him to thrash around like a salmon at a rave and not make contact with my seat. Not once. Mwa hahahaha. If things get really bad, I can just relocate him to the third row. Up here for thinkin’ hey?
Another favourite game with the oldest mini man seems to consist of him advising me on which kind of animal he feels I best resemble that day. All in all my esteem has taken a hit because, so far it’s not been particularly flattering for me. The week alone I’ve been likened to a pig, a donkey, and a lemur (?!) but none the less, anything that prevents the little Houdini from wrestling his banana covered hands out of his car seat and into the fur of the dog beside him is a blessing. I’m willing to take one for the team here (this is the same child who once pointed to a giant picture of a whale and said “mummy” while I stood there shocked and my husband rolled around on the floor in fits of laughter trying not to wee his pants, so I’m used to the compliments). Annoyingly, despite several sessions of behind the scenes coaching, he still gives all the good animals to his dad. Damn you horse/gorilla.