Driving on Up

We drove up the big ol’ Parks Highway the other day to come visit my hubs. Me, the dog, S and G. Plus our one-million and one things. Dude… you cannot travel light with a three year old and a one year old. My ‘tree car’ (it’s a Sequoia. My hubs called it the tree car on the test drive we took… it’s stuck) was packed to the brim. And it’s not a small car.

This was my first big drive since the car in front of me hit a moose a couple weeks ago. I am a born and raised Alaskan… and have had a lot of moose encounters. We hunt moose, laugh at young bulls fake charging our trees at the cabin, scream with excitement when there’s one in the yard, we ooh and aww over them with their new tiny babies in the Spring, and they are our source of meat to keep our family organically and locally fed (no hormone growths in our meat, except those nature intended!). These are big, strong and capable animals. They have always been one of my favorites.

I know more people who have hit moose than I can count. I’ve come close a couple times. But the other day was my first witness to it. It was in slow motion: the moose sprinting across the highway while I yelled (to myself apparently. It turns out people in other cars can’t quite hear you) ‘Moooossseeee’, the white small SUV in front of me connecting sending that giant animal up 15-20 feet in the air, spinning so her feet were above her head at one point. She flew over the car in the next lane and landed on the edge of the road. At this point I am obviously in tears and hyperventilating. When I finally got it together enough to call 911, the dispatcher asks me to please sit there with my hazards on, so nobody else hits her, while I wait for the police. Watching an animal that is broken, but still alive, try to survive and get off into the woods is heart breaking. And scarring.

That’s what kept running through my mind our whole drive. Don’t worry- we didn’t even see a moose on this drive! Know what we did see- a lot of motorhomes and buses. Tourist season in Alaska is in full swing- and moose season begins in one month.  We will be out there looking for Bullwinkles then… but not with my tree car. 🙂 motorhome

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18 Hours

My husband was home today from working out of town. He drove a little over 4 hours home last night, got here around 10. Left around 4 today to go  back. 18 hours home. 18 hours not being a single parent. 18 hours where my son got to laugh, wrestle and play with Dada. 18 hours where my daughter is doted on by two loving parents and my husband gets to see her c20140713_125202ute expressions I live with daily.

I’m on the fence about using the term ‘single parent’. It seems harsh, but real. Not that Vincent (that’s my handsome, loving, hilarious husband) ever stops being  a Dad, but he stops being my relief or back up when things get tough at bed time, or during tantrums or eating or cleaning.

Today Vince was supposed to meet us at the grocery store. He took S and I had G (he (s) is three, G is one). He texted me to find out where we were in the store, then again that he would just meet us at home. Evidently he got a taste of S at the grocery store. It makes me feel sort of good that he got to experience what I go through every time. Crying, drama, screaming… about everything! Parenting on your own makes meltdowns like that something you have to just push through. I can’t pack up and leave the store without milk or food for us to eat… and it’s so much work just getting there, to try again is a nightmare. Now when I say I wish I could go to the store by mysel20140713_131143f, he’ll get it a little more.

On the upside we spent some of our 18 hours at our local annual festival! It was awesome! We ate, rode rides, played games, looked at adoptable dogs, rode ponies and bought some goodies.

In all I’m always happy to have a short period of what other people experience daily. Just having another adult with you at the end of the day to vent to, reflect with and cuddle with is pretty awesome. Even if it’s just one day a week. Or 18 hours.