365 RANDOM DAYS OF TEAM ZYBKO 

DAY #177

JULY 1st, 2012

ONE STEP FORWARD AND TWO STEPS BACK



Wow. It really is time to go. I can’t believe it. I also can’t believe everything fit. The prison van is stuffed full, using almost every last inch of never before used space. Window to window, floor to ceiling. The necessary provisions for 6 months have been labeled and stored according to priority and need. The boys and Baby Daddy have sweated through their shorts during the not so fun 35 minute process.  July 1^ST at 10:30 around these parts = 90 something degrees……already.  I’m not sure a Minnesota thermometer has ever seen mercury expand that much. Too bad the thought of much cooler temperatures and the elimination of armpit stains are no consolation to my heart right now. As great as it sounds it’s simply not great enough.

Team Zybko huddles together one last time like a soccer team before the whistle is blown for kick off. We ask God to go before us and keep us safe, look after the older ones and the decisions that come with being left behind. It doesn’t take long, 30 seconds tops. We all know it’s time to cut the cord and just go already. All hands in, big and little alike… 3, 2, 1 GO TEAM! A salty mixture of sweat and fresh tears drip off the end of my nose as I reach for my camera. Located conveniently on the floor board of my designated co-pilot spot. Right between my everyday purse and my newly stuffed carry on for the 3 day journey. Despite the heat and me dragging this process out  longer than necessary, the kids don’t even moan when I ask them to squish together side by side for a group picture. An emotional moment I’m sure I will appreciate sometime down the road. I’m shocked the shot came together at all. I like it and dislike it all at the same time. The first of many pictures on my memory stick to be copy and pasted to a brand new created folder. Minnesota Trip.

Four year old Delilah is more than clinging to her favorite person in the world. Sobbing into the neck of her brand new, just turned 20 year old sister. I’m not sure how Di Di is handling any of this as her head is also deeply buried in 2 very strong stubby little arms. Oh geez. This ain’t gonna be pretty. Even if Diane’s work schedule could miraculously be cleared and a bag was quickly packed we don’t even have a legal seat for her. 3 of the bench seats have been removed. The prison van has had a scheduled reduction surgery, 15 passengers down to a 5. All seats booked and paid in full. Eventually my door closes it is naturally the last one to one to do so. BAM. The heavy clear sound makes is all so final.  

Our neighborhood road is clear as we pull out of the drive way and head left onto Thunderbird. The van could probably be set to auto pilot for the back roads to I 20. Done this route a million times for a million different reasons in 12 years.  Away soccer games, trips to that cute little Lamar pool the first year we lived here, sneaking a few minutes with BD as we surprise him at work, day trips to Columbia. Blah Blah Blah.  I’m so thankful BD is driving and I’m not in charge of navigation just yet. My brain is a little bit numb, empty and cold. I probably would fail a concussion test right. First question. What’s my name? That’s an easy one, Cecelia. No Ma’am, try again. What? Oh that’s right, that was my confirmation name in 8^th grade. Let’s see…. is it Roxanne? No…no that’s my old stage name. Hhhhhmmmm. Ok, I give up. I fail…I’m done. This soccer mom has clocked out, blank and wiped clean.  Nothing at all, nothing there. Only thoughtless space. The last year and a half has seemed to just come falling down on me, right on the windshield like a bug the size of a dinosaur. Month after month of trying to be “strong and tough” not complaining and just “going with it” has come to end.  I was never very good at filling Baby Daddy’s shoes anyway. I did at first and for a long while give it my all, 110%. Somewhere along the way in this single parent season I gave up truly trying. Realizing his size 12 is…well simply too big. They only fit a Daddy just right, laced up to the top with a perfect bunny ear bow. I should stick to being a mom. That’s my roll and those shoes fit nicely day or night. My hot pink Nikes give me way better comfort, never let me down and feel like a second skin. As we drive slowly past the familiar mailboxes on our quiet street I keep my eyes firmly fixed upon my side view mirror. I stare at the 3 older kids, hands waving politely, arms stretched over head as their faces slowly get smaller and smaller in the reflection. My eyes let go as I reach across the piles of junk that separate me and BD. His big strong hand is encouraging, comforting and gentle. He doesn’t tell me to quit crying or to snap out of it like I sorta wish he would but instead in a soft sweet reassuring whisper says

  “It’s gonna be alright momma bear, your babies will be fine.”

He knows me better than anyone on this planet so I need not say anything back. He already knows what I’m thinking. We ARE at least together. Two parents together, both in the correct fitting shoes, walking side by side in this race we call life. Two pairs are always better than a single pair, for that single pair is always sprinting, alone and working overtime to catch up. I do know moms and dads that HAVE to do it 365/44/7.  Not easy for them, ever.

 

 The high way is a bit deserted, we have most of the lanes to ourselves. Mid Sunday morning in the Bible belt is not the usual time for family travel. I don’t care if the Blue Laws have been lifted or not.  I envision some of our favorite people we know, getting gussied, piling in the car and heading to the Church of their denominational choice. Or a place of worship with no prerequisite at all. A NON DOM that is.  I smile at that, many years ago I would have poked fun of that but today I smile. The inside of the van is still as we get up to highway speed. So quiet you could almost hear a pin drop OR a bin of games fall over and hit the back door. Wait…..that really did happen. Oh well, can’t even get to the back right now to access the accident scene without stopping the van, and that ain’t happening.  We drive on at 70 miles an hour and agree to check it out at the first pee pee break.

The green pine trees and miles markers are whizzing past us fast. The little ones already involved with their fully charged IPODS. Then it hit me, somewhere around mile 10 I suddenly realize I have forgotten something, well 2 things really. Besides the kids the only other things that I was in charge of getting into the car. Everyone’s passports and all my mommarazzi pictures located on my external hard drive which is ironically also called a passport. Only an hour from the Canadian border we were definitely banking on some day trips to visit our northern neighbors. Bummer. I was going to count those as home school field trips too.

The thought of the 10,000 digital pictures sitting on top of the computer desk, all by themselves with no mommy in sight gives me bit of nausea. BD suggests we have them mailed, no problem he says…they might even arrive before we do. I think. I look out the window. I think some more. I look out the window as another mile marker flies backwards, past me on the right hand side of the van. I could seriously care less about the official government documents being lost in transit but putting my hard drive on a fast plane all by itself not knowing if would make it, creates a bit of a panic. That might be a red flag for even a beginner physiologist.  I’m ok with that. Over the years I have weaned myself from being a total things person. My passport is one of the last really important things to me I have. I protect and hold onto like a newborn baby. I know it’s just a thing. A 4 by 4 silver piece of technology thing that I don’t even understand how it works. It takes and captures memories. Memories I can’t re-do or recreate, that’s why I freak out. Oh yea, a real issue brewing I’m sure with a real clinical name that is hard to pronounce.

Honey do you want me to turn around? No no no…no way babes. I can totally live without catching up on old blog posts and who needs to explore a new country anyway?  Ya know I don’t even like Canadian bacon, it’s totally not bacon at all. Dontcha know?

Honey? Yes? Look at me. What? It’s totally fine, I wouldn’t ask you to do that. I know it’s such a pain.

No more talk as he gradually slows down to exit the high way. BD is a wise man. Not an old school wise man carrying frankincense, myrrh or gold but a modern wise man with a sense of humor, a GPS and the ability to do a much needed U turn without actually being asked.

  Items are retrieved and the second official goodbye seems as uneventful as leaving to go shop at Food Lion. My stomach growls, I’m pretty sure it’s lunch time already. None of us had breakfast. The minutes flew by during the last prep and stage to go. Eating was an afterthought and not on the to do list. BD suggests we call in and pick it up something in Florence, before we get back on the highway.....again. Great idea. Low blood sugar is no way to start a 25 hour drive.