I got a new driving app on my phone the other day. It tracks your driving habits every time you happen to be behind the wheel of a motorized vehicle. Brake time, acceleration rate, the whole works. Then it tallies everything up and based on some ridiculous algorithm developed and computed by a microscopic computer asshole that was given permission by your own dipshit self to set up shop inside your goddamn phone keeps track of everything and spits out an updated score based on how it thinks you are doing as a driver on a continual basis. Here’s the reward, as if that wasn’t enough. If you happen to play to your elderly instincts spot on every single day of your life and stay above the recommended acceptable percentage point over a period of time, you get a three percent discount on your insurance. Who wants a high five?
Of course there was some resistance at first. Mostly because I am not an idiot and secondly because if I wanted my mom in the back seat of my car each and every time I decided to take a spin, I would invite her in, give her some Fritos and strongly encourage feedback. “Oh dear Jill.”“I know Mom!”
As an adult who actually took and passed her driver’s exam the second time years ago, I simply don’t feel the need for judgement or criticism or a tap on the shoulder or a frowning face that pops up on my phone screen distracting me from driving to tell me that I am actually and in no uncertain terms not my grandpa tooling around looking at the beans coming up in an open field on a Sunday afternoon. Nope, I am indeed not my grandpa. Let’s write that down. Instead, I am a stay at home mom barely hanging onto what is left of my sanity with three kids and it’s summertime motherfuckers! We’re definitely not in the business of looking at beans. We’re in the business of racing and chasing from point A to point B so my extremely busy and adorable children can maintain muscle mass, brain activity, friendships, and a daily acceptable fun factor that at the end of the day keeps us in the running for at least not the least fun family in the whole wide world. I am a fun person goddammit! “Get in the van kids!”
Here’s the scenario inside. Kid 3 likes to sing. Kid 2 hates it when Kid 3 sings. Kid 2 yells at Kid 3. Kid 3 keeps singing, he doesn’t know the words but decides it’s time to really test out his vocal chord limitations nonetheless. Kid 2 yells again, but this time at me because now it’s obviously become my fault that she is intolerant of any sounds that come from within a 10 foot radius of her little brother, including the breath of life. Kid 3 sings even louder now because although he is super cute, he can also be a ginormous asshole sometimes. Kid 2’s yelling becomes somewhat of a shrill now but there’s really nothing to describe the sound that she makes when she gets pissed off, so let’s just call it absolute unbearable mind blowing agony.
Meanwhile, I am driving. Driving, driving, driving. Paying attention to traffic signals and signs and cyclists with a death wish and dicks on their phones right beside me on the road who if would raise their gaze and halt their very important text for one millisecond would definitely see mid scroll the extent of my sign language skills. “Hey Asshat! I have my beautiful children in here and if I could I would pull your shit for brains over and as punishment put them all inside your car sans any form of outside communication device!”
“Mom, you said it‘s not nice to use your middle finger, remember?” Perfect. Insert quick life lesson about using one’s best judgement for the sake of human kind here. Ugh.
Let’s not forget about Kid 1 who gets to sit in the front seat now because she is a big girl and likes to stare at her own phone while simultaneously changing the radio station every four seconds to find the perfect nonexistent song. “NO! This is my van! Someday when you are 42 and living the dream and have 3 kids and a minivan and get to drive around in a big huge circle all day long you can choose your own survival music to drowned out the painful noises!” Luckily Kid 1 has been around the block a few times and is wise enough to know the undeniable look of batshit crazy…so country music it is…because I’m a blonde and white female cliche and it’s summertime motherfuckers!
Of course life can be a pain in the ass sometimes. Of course it’s all worth it. Of course I love my children beyond measure. Of course I will undoubtedly miss the chaos someday. Of course getting zero acknowledgement and/or gratitude from my beloved moppets on a daily basis is simply part of the gig I signed up for. Of course the only thing missing from my life was an app that reminds me every single night that the guy I love yet can’t stand losing to the most in this entire universe and whose daily commute consists of a peaceful and companionless scenic lake shore drive topping out at 30 mph while listening to talk radio just happens to be a better driver than me on paper. Excuse me while I amble over here and call BULLSHIT!
Oooooooh, but that discount though!