“I’m actually looking forward to our car time,” I told my 6-year-old son.
“Same here!” he replied enthusiastically as we gathered our things.
In our household, car time has become a newfound joy. After several months of searching for activities while my oldest was at gymnastics, we discovered that simply sitting in the car can be incredibly relaxing. Gone are the days of unnecessary trips to the store for items we don’t need, or the stressful rush to pick up my daughter on time. Now, we embrace the idea of waiting in the car, which I once thought would be the least appealing option.
I bring my laptop to catch up on emails, while the kids are occupied with books and snacks. Sure, they bicker now and then, but it’s mild and manageable—not the kind of fighting that raises my blood pressure. We enjoy the radio, share conversations, and they often peek at the internet over my shoulder. There may be cracker crumbs on my shoulder, but it’s a far better experience than those rushed shopping excursions, and I’m committed to our car-time routine.
In fact, we’ve reduced our weekly car journeys from 45 to just 29, thanks to a combination of after-school activities and our beloved car time.
If you had told me six months ago that I would come to appreciate 40 minutes in a car with two squabbling children, I would have been worried about my future self. I might have even called for an intervention. However, this shift in perspective isn’t entirely new; my joy has been evolving for the past eight years. Parenthood has stripped me of time, space, and funds for indulgent pursuits, which has led me to find happiness in smaller, simpler pleasures.
I cherish cozy nights in. While nights out were once a frequent treat, they have dwindled to a rare occurrence. Now, many Saturday evenings are spent curled up on the sofa, sipping red wine and enjoying cheese while watching a movie—sometimes even more satisfying than those bustling evenings spent in town.
I appreciate every minute of sleep I can get, even if it’s just six hours, which is far better than the four-hour nights I used to call “sleeping through the night.” It’s nowhere near the lengthy slumbers of my pre-parenthood days, but I’ve learned to adjust my expectations.
A blissful 10-minute shower behind a locked door is a luxury while my partner reads stories to the kids. I relish the opportunity to sit down and work, not just because it’s fulfilling, but because it allows me a moment of stillness. Most of my day is spent chasing after kids, driving them around, tidying up, and playing referee—except, of course, during our cherished car time.
I savor those brief moments with coffee and social media after the school runs. Taking a train anywhere feels like precious me-time, where I can engross myself in a book or magazine, wishing the journey would stretch on longer. Absolute bliss.
I find joy in a glass of red wine on a Thursday night. It signals that the weekend is near, and after a long week, I feel I’ve earned this small indulgence.
Even my homemade coffee brings me happiness. I used to enjoy a cappuccino from the local café every morning, but now I find just as much satisfaction in the one I brew myself—perhaps because it’s what I have now, but the pleasure remains unchanged.
Anyway, I should wrap this up—car time is coming to an end, and there’s a child happily dropping crackers on my shoulder. Just four hours until that glass of wine. Pure bliss.
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In summary, my happiness has shifted to appreciating simpler moments amidst the chaos of parenting. Car rides, cozy nights in, and brief pockets of solitude now bring me immense joy, as my definition of pleasure has evolved with my responsibilities.