The journey home

Tonight I give thanks to my trouble monkey and Percy dog who made the four hour journey home such a breeze. 

Armed with a Diet Coke for me, finger food snacks for Alby, water for all and Raffi in the CD player I set off from Surrey just before 7pm.  I confess I started off a little anxious; whilst normally coordinating the drive with Alby’s bedtime is a sure thing, the last time we tried it was an epic fail.  Alby cried on and off for the first half of the journey until he was sick all over himself.  It was only by feeding him in my arms as Mark sped down the motorway that he was eventually pacified, a tactic which still sends tingles down my spine as I think of the “what ifs” of such a manoeuvre. Because of this, as with all things Alby, I wasn’t sure if that disastrous journey signalled the shape of things to come or was just a one-off bad day. 

To my great relief it seems that the latter is true.  With the exception of a quick stop on the hard shoulder of the M18 whilst Alby fed (having rejected the bottle I’d cunningly prepared) Alby slept the entire way.  And I’m equally proud of Percy who managed to survive the trip without panting once, thus saving me from having to turn the car into an iceberg in an attempt to keep him cool.

One of the big differences between today and the disastrous trip is that Alby was now in his new car seat.   Whilst technically he has yet to outgrow his rear facing seat, the cries and arching back which accompanied any attempt to put him in it signalled the need to go shopping.  And it is with huge relief that I can say such grimacing is now a thing of the past.

What’s more, I put him in the front next to me so that were he to want anything it could be easily given, unlike last week when I discovered that my arms are officially two inches shorter than I need them to be.  Also, they cramp up when twisted and stretched.  Something I learnt when passing toys, food and the random tat stored in the car seat back to Alby in an effort to entertain him when we were stuck for an hour in a traffic jam.

Tonight, with bedtime due, new seat in place and a thoroughly organised me behind the wheel I didn’t even need the magic of my peace-loving Canadian music man Raffi to keep Alby calm. (Though my love for Raffi remains unaltered and no doubt I will soon be dedicating an entire post to his brilliance).  Alby fell asleep within the first twenty minutes of the journey as I tried to educate him on the art of the ‘80s power grab, leaving me to make my way through my American Anthems CD collection alone.