Commuting hell

Tonight I got a preview of one winter commuting scenario: The Traffic Jam That Lasts Forever Without Me Ever Finding Out What The Hell Went Wrong Five Miles Up Ahead. I-5 was a parking lot tonight, about halfway between Salem and home. I silently cursed myself for not having jars of baby food, a sleepsuit and other survival gear in Rachel's diaper bag. Lesson learned!

I finally put on an old tape of mine called "Juluka." It's South African music by Johnny Clegg, and, man, did it bring back memories of my time in Africa. I kept thinking tonight how much easier my life seemed then, apart from the constant angst of wanting to be a great writer and never thinking that I would get there. In the end it destroyed my career, but that's for a much longer post.

Rachel was remarkably cheerful about the whole ordeal, probably because I didn't express frustration out loud, just curiosity. "What do you think is going on, Rachel?" I kept asking her, but she never supplied an answer. I used the time to call Dad, my friend Dan, and leave a message for Drew. I fed Rachel pretzels, a granola bar, raisins and a small green apple and that held her until we got home (as did taking off her socks and shoes. Usually I mock-scold her about this, but I said tonight that "Rachel, I have no idea when we'll get home, so go ahead and take your socks and shoes off if you want to." I could feel her surprise and delight emanating from the back seat).

One of the highlights (or lowlights, depending on your point of view): Her small voice saying, "Mommy I got a bug on my nose."

"A bug, Rachel? What kind of bug?"

"A BOOGER on my nose, Mommy."

This is the third time in two weeks she has used that word, which she did NOT get from me. I blame everything on daycare. I handed her a tissue and let her wipe up the mess herself.

Also: For the past two nights I've asked her, "What did you do in school today, sweetie?"
Her reply: "Nothing."

I thought we had, oh, 11 more years until we started dealing with those kinds of answers. Sigh.