Driven to Despair – Newport This Week

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Every June, I am reminded that I live the mom version of this satirical definition on an annual basis.

I am consistently under the delusion that summer will not only be a well-deserved brain break for my children, but also a needed break from the constraints of driving them incessantly from activity to activity. As warm weather begins to emerge, I beguile myself with visions of pumping gas only once a week, keeping a slightly cleaner car, perhaps even being on time.

But here I am, in early August, and I have been proven a fool … yet again. I am still driving all over the place, but now my chauffeur service is not restricted to the hours after 3 p.m., but all day long. To and from camps, friends’ houses, swimming, movies, jobs, tutors, workouts, practices, beach, activities. The list goes on.

My hope for gas savings is thwarted, as I am there so often, I now choose the station based on its background music. The interior condition of my car has not remotely improved, and I am certainly no more punctual than I was September through May.

Amy Martin is a columnist with a background in family chaos, laughter and a lot of laundry. She writes from a perspective of reality and humor.

No matter how valiant my efforts are to arrange the schedule for summer driving efficiency, I somehow don’t seem to adhere to the plan as previously set forth.

Perhaps it is because I work from home. I am highly accessible. Too accessible. Admittedly, I sometimes hide in the bathroom in an attempt to get a couple of uninterrupted hours of work accomplished. The way I see it, my digestive condition comes with very few benefits, so if fibbing a little while crouched and working on the bathroom floor is my method for professional success, then so be it. I’m going to milk whatever advantage I can from having to eat a highly restrictive and tasteless diet.

Some of the truths of parenting are not particularly brag-worthy. For example, any parent who drives to and from outdoor sports practices on a daily basis knows the elation and silent parental rejoicing that accompanies black clouds and rain that cancel practices or games. I am no different. I may even break out the “mom is overly excited about rain” dance as I revel in this little gift from the gods.

For this reason, until all my children are fully licensed drivers, I refuse to live in Arizona or any other desert location.

No one wants their children to experience an injury, especially during summer break. But in all honesty, a broken finger or a sprained ankle comes with a completely selfish parental silver lining, which is a condensed driving schedule.

I have always been supportive of my children learning from their failures.

Best efforts are applauded in our home. Pressure for high grades or achievement is not. However, I have threatened our 16-year-old within an inch of his life if he fails his driver’s test.

The result of this test will be life-altering for me. I am fully aware that my outlook is selfish. But after 16-plus years of driving children around, I am not going to apologize. Having another licensed driver in the house will be as liberating as when I threw away the diaper genie after my youngest child was potty trained.

As I write this column, I am eagerly awaiting the result of that child’s driver’s test. I am on tenterhooks here, as the text I received 10 minutes ago read, “I think I passed.”

I’m in a full sweat.