There's not much pleasant about a long car trip with very small children. Ages four and up do okay. And granted, listening to an audio book we all enjoy (anything by Beverly Cleary right now) actually can be quite nice. But the two-year-old and the baby? Well. I will admit that it's my fault for being a bit unprepared and not bringing much to keep Isaac occupied, leaving him to amuse himself with talking! very! loudly! And throwing things. Also, we did two potty stops for Isaac, who considers using the potty optional while at home, but is definitely going to insist on a stop while we're driving. So I get the pleasure of taking him into a dirty public restroom, where I have to completely undress him from the waist down (socks too!) and every other sentence out of my mouth is "Please don't touch that!"
Then our poor sweet baby has no idea why she has to sit in that car seat for so long. Why in the world is mommy not picking her up??! And I get the pleasure of doing something that looks like wrestling an octopus which is in fact only me trying to hold Naomi in my lap while wrestling her out of poopy-diaper blowout clothes and back into fresh clean clothes. And I also master the art of nursing the baby while she is riding in her car seat. One of those things that I never thought I'd do, but then you just do because you have to. The noise, the constant requests, the long drive: it all leaves me a bit frazzled and grumpy.
But then I start reading the news, and it's all about Japan. And the loss is tremendous. Homes, businesses, families, lives, all gone. Swept away. One moment a mother and daughter were together, the next moment the rushing waters pulled them apart. And now there is uncertainty and sadness, fear and grief. I cannot fathom. And my heart is so heavy for these people in a faraway place who have such different lives from my own, but in actuality are just like me.
There are still shrieks coming from my two-year-old, but they sound different now. I'm feeling humbled, blessed. Tears brimming, I can only be thankful for the treasure that is this moment, right now, today.
