Traffic: Curing Unfriending Since 2013
“Omigosh. Your’e not my friend. I’m the boss. You’re not the boss. You’re not the boss anymore because you frustrated me.”
— my son, disavowing me for not giving him his dad’s cookie
Before my son started preschool, I had a 30-minute drive to decompress from my workday before picking him up.
After Li’l D started preschool, I had a 5-minute drive to decompress. I had very little downtime before I was alternately grilled, commanded and shrieked at. I adapted, mostly because I felt like a tool for quietly bemoaning what amounted to more time with my son and less drive time.
I recently started a new job. It was hard to make the change, but doing so was an excellent choice. My new job is a challenge and a joy. Perhaps best of all, there’s traffic en route.
Yep, you read that right.
I take two freeways between work and my son’s preschool. After work yesterday, the first freeway’s traffic was light. I didn’t think much of it until I reached the exit onto the second freeway. Seeing the slow-moving traffic there, I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I started chuckling. Was I really grateful for traffic? Yes. Yes, I was. Traffic, baby! Oh, yeah.
Still smiling, I melted into the now, moving away from being mom-Deb, fiancee-Deb or negotiator-Deb and into just being.
By the time I reached Li’l D, I was feeling pretty darn groovy. I was feeling so groovy, it didn’t faze me that I was unfriended by my son roughly 378 times in a 30-minute drive. I wasn’t fussed that I was demoted from boss status, or that my son wasn’t going to talk to me anymore . . . after he finished unfriending me, anyway.
I’d had my drive time. I’d had time to decompress.
All was good, thanks to a little traffic.