......and it's not a pretty thing.
Yesterday, the McKid and I were going to run over to Fort Worth to pick up adoration votive candles (see, I'm the Altar Guild Directress). It's a quick jaunt over to St. Anthony's (or "St. Anfernees" as McKid calls it)--about 20 minutes there, a little time shopping to break up the drive, and 20 minutes home. Piece of cake. We head out with no toys, but with a full glass of juice for her and a diet Coke for me.
For the first time in my LIFE, I got stuck in a traffic jam that was bumper to bumper stopped dead still. An 18-wheeler had overturned, and the entire highway began backing up. It took us TWO HOURS to get to the next exit, less than 2 miles away!
McKid bore up for about 30 minutes. We sang every song we knew (more than once), she drank her juice, but finally she cracked. She began to wail--and I wanted to wail, too! She cried so hard that her cough (that we've been fighting since the weekend) kicked in, and between coughing and crying her lungs out, she managed to become so distraught that she THREW UP! There was no where to pull over--people are bonking into one another right and left, and I was afraid that if I just stopped the car, we'd be conked by an inattentive motorist behind us. So I'm dabbing her with baby wipes (which I could reach) while watching the snot and other unmentionables POUR out of her nose. Fortunately I could mostly reach her in my Bug, if we'd been in PapaC's car, it would have been a lost cause.
Then, idiot motorists start passing us in the breakdown lane--because, you know, their time and lives are so much more important than mine and McKid's--and I almost become psychotic. Had I been alone, and not had a 2 year old wailing away, I would have called the business numbers of each and every commercial vehicle I saw pass me illegally and read them the riot act. As it was, I thought it would just sound like I was crazy. Which, of course, I was.
TWO HOURS after coming to a stop, we were finally able to turn around and go home. I have never been so grateful to be home in my entire life. Cleaned up the McKid, gave her milk and juice and put her down for a nap. Sank gratefully into the recliner. And vowed never to leave the house again without the "flower blankie" and a toy or two.
So, I know what hell is. It is being perpetually stuck in a VW Bug with a 2 year old screaming, crying, coughing, and throwing up and there is nothing you can do about it.
I don't recommend it.