monday.

Here is a sample conversation from the car today:

"C'mon, Selkie, it's time to go into the restaurant to eat dinner."

(crying, wailing) "But there are TOO MANY STUFFED ANIMALS TO CHOOSE FROM!!"

"But Selkie, you were the one who decided to take all three of your Build-a-Bears . . ."

(anger, indignation) "But YOU BROUGHT THE OTHER LITTLE ONES AND I DIDN'T ASK YOU TO AND NOW THERE ARE TOO MANY TO CHOOSE FROM!"

"So don't bring anyone into the restaurant, then. Leave them all in the car and just come in to have some food."

"I DON'T WANT ANY FOOD I DON'T WANT TO GO EAT I HATE THAT RESTAURANT..."

(blood sugar dropping quickly, temperature rising) "Selkie, we all have to eat. Get your shoes on and get out of the car NOW."

(flailing, prone on seat) "NOOOOOOOOOO."

Cut to inside the restaurant once Alex switches with me and tries with Selkie. I go inside and sit with Milo. The following conversation ensues:

"What are you gonna get, buddy?"

(insert nine-year old attitude, tone) "Where are the sandwiches? They don't have ANY sandwiches! GOD!"

"Well, let's look . . . um, yes, you're right, there aren't any--oh wait, there's a grilled cheese--"

"I HATE grilled cheese. GOD!"

"Well, there's other stuff here. Like chicken caesar salad--you like that--"

(frustration growing, blinking back angry tears) "But I don't WANT that--I want a sandwich--don't they just have a sandwich? GOD!!!"

At this point I tell the server that we will be leaving, due to breakdown status for the entire family. She is kind, but obviously child-free, and therefore not as compassionate as I want her to be.

At this point I am seriously wondering why in the good goddamn hell we thought this was a great idea.

At this point I am taking breaths, ER 911 sprays, swigs of water that I wish were wine.

At this point I am here, living this life that I have chosen.

Later, as we are driving through the valleys of Utah, with the green and red rocks around us, the little streams following us and every farm creature available right outside the windows, I am happy. They are in the backseat, having eaten heartily. They have serenaded us with improvised recorder playing to the Beatles. They are drawing and reading and seem to be happy.

At this point, I am forgetting that Selkie threw a righteous fit earlier in the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary parking lot because the gift shop did not carry any stuffed animals. At this point I am forgetting that Milo no longer listens to any of my gentle-voice requests, and seems to eventually respond with complete and utter disdain for the sound of my voice.

I'm just here enjoying the ride right now. What else is there for me to do? We are all trapped inside these four doors by choice, and we live with our decision.

For the most part, it is a beautiful thing thus far.