I've never taken heat stroke or homesickness very seriously.
But a week or so ago, Claire was bawling behind me in her bike trailer. And I pedaled away—dizzy, nauseous, the works. One of us was probably going to pass out before we got home, so I found a place to stop: a cafe/bakery where people park their BMW's and pop in for drinks, professional-looking omelettes, and designer cupcakes.
|the trail where i often ride my bike with a little girl in tow.|
I went inside, hot, sweaty, carrying a sobbing toddler in a princess swimsuit (the only clothes she agreed to wear that day). Since anything birthday-related makes her happy, I ordered a cupcake and the tallest glass of water in the place.
Did I want the red velvet or the ooey gooey? I told the cashier I didn't care.
Which color did I want? I didn't care.
Did I want a box or a plate? "I don't care. The baby doesn't care. Just give me a cupcake and water."
Does heat exhaustion make you louder than normal?
I refilled my glass six times before we left. When we got home, I went inside and lay on the floor until my hands stopped shaking.
|even when hiking, the princess swimsuit is her outfit of choice. sigh.|
But the whole adventure felt worse than it should have since it happened on the way back from a play group where the kids pushed my daughter out, no matter how many times she blew kisses and said, "Hi, friends." A play group where I tried to connect with other moms, but just had a series of awkward conversations (which is not rare for me, but bums me out anyway).
So I wrote a blog post that I didn't publish. I sounded whiny and tired, without realizing that the problem wasn't heat stroke or play groups or feeling like a sweaty hobo in a fancy bakery.
The problem was that everything here is always new right now.
And for one minute, I just needed the familiar, the comfortable, the worn-in. (*)
Thank goodness Christopher's brother decided to get married. Best excuse for a road trip ever, no matter how short.
We hadn't even seen anyone yet when we arrived on a stretch of I-15 that I've driven at least a thousand times. Is it odd that a certain turn in a road could feel like home? Because it did. Plus, the weather was cool enough to wear my favorite sweater.
|no sign of heat stroke here.|
(Update: No heat stroke stories to speak of. It was hot, but wonderful. Claire played with a girl her age who shared her Elmo and gave her a hug. And I talked to an amazing mom about the emotional and mental space that creativity requires.)