I’ve recently realized something slightly concerning: I spend a significant portion of my life in my car. Driving, obviously, but also sometimes just sitting in my car. Back and forth. Across town. To dance, to my son’s practices, squeezing in errands when I can, and constantly figuring out who needs to be where and when. Some days, it feels like I barely turn the car off before I’m starting it again. And then, there’s my daughter’s social life, which somehow adds a whole other layer to it all. The plans, the rides, the drop-offs, the “Can you take me here?” and “What time can you pick me up?” It’s constant. At this point, I’m basically her personal Uber.
Neither of my kids can drive yet, so for now, I’m the one getting everyone to all the places. But we’re getting really close to that point where that won’t be the case anymore. And if I’m being honest, that comes with a mix of feelings I wasn’t quite expecting. Because as much as I joke about living in my car, there’s a part of me that knows I’ll miss this version of it.
Even the back and forth.
There are even those in-between moments after school where my spouse and I meet up in a parking lot with one kid heading one direction, the other going somewhere else and do a quick “kid swap” like it’s a completely normal, well-oiled operation. Which, at this point, I guess it is.
And in between all that driving…there’s the waiting that comes with it.
Most days, you’ll find me parked outside dance class or practice. It’s not quite long enough to go home because I would end up turning right back around, so there I sit. A/C or heat blowing, depending on the season. Seat leaned back just a little. Fully settled in.
And honestly? I’ve gotten pretty comfortable here.
My car has somehow become both my transportation and my waiting room. One minute I’m in full chauffeur mode, the next I’m sitting in a parking spot, answering emails, scrolling my phone, or just enjoying a quiet moment to myself.
You know…just normal car activities.
I used to think this phase of motherhood would look different. Maybe more structured, more productive. But instead, it looks a lot like living life in the in-between, driving from one place to the next and filling the gaps as best I can.
And somewhere along the way, my car has slowly turned into a bit of a storage unit. Not in a dramatic way; just in a “How did all of this get in here?” kind of way. There are extra shoes, sports gear, a jacket that’s been in the backseat for at least two seasons, a collection of water bottles (none of them mine), and snacks that may or may not still be good. It’s basically a mobile holding space for everything we might need or thought we might need…at some point. At this point, I’m not even surprised anymore when I find something random in here. It just feels on brand.
As chaotic as it might look from the outside, there’s something about this time that I’ve come to appreciate. It’s the in-between. The drives where it’s quiet for a minute. The waiting where no one is asking me for anything (yet). No one needs help with homework, no one is yelling from another room, and no one is asking what’s for dinner.
It’s just me. In my car. Somewhere between where we were and where we’re going next.
And maybe this isn’t what I pictured, but it’s part of this season. So if you see me pulling into a parking lot, or sitting in one, or doing a quick kid swap like a well-trained professional, just know I’ve got my phone, probably a snack, and a mental list of where I’m headed next.
