10 Reasons I Just Might Drive the Hell Away From My Family

by Jess Burnquist

Some women hide wine in their bathroom cupboards or showers. Okay, so I do too. On the most frustrating days, though, I just think about the last scene in the series finale of Six Feet Under. How Claire lowers the window on her new Prius and lets her red hair wave in the wind as she drives the hell away from her family. I confided this fantasy to my friend the other day. Her eyes widened. I worried that I had made a mistake – shattered my external image as a "decent" mother. Would she betray me to the gang? Instead she began rattling off all of the reasons she would like to drive the hell away from her family too. We had a lovely time. 

I've decided to share my list. Know that you're not alone. That on any given day, many of us are driving the hell away in our minds as we add another obligation to Google calendar and find the item that our partners can't locate without an app, and nag our children to be decent ffs… 

1. My daughter is solving for y again. Now she just asked about slope. I have hives. I need to go. 

2. Husband's big and middle toes are sticking through his socks. Let me go buy him some socks only never come back. 

3. What is this? Is this the plaid never-been-worn jacket that I just washed for the 10th time less than 24 hours ago in the dirty laundry again? Imma pack it and take it with me, kids. 

4. Those are my headphones. You were warned. 

5. My mother is coming over. I can't deal with the eyebrow raises she'll make at the weeds before she even knocks. Before the dusty baseboards. Bye. 

6. You people never chew.  

7. I hate South Park. I just want to watch my stories in the silence of nature. 

8. Your vision must be impaired from your last eyeroll. I'm going on a medical quest to New Zealand. 

9. I'm late. You left the tank on empty and didn't mention it. Again. Did I mention that I won't be coming home? The road is long. 

10. The dog just burped like a human. Like a bad omen – so you can have him. Peace out, suckas. 

Jess Burnquist teaches high school English and Creative Writing in Arizona. Because she has a teenage son and daughter, she is literally surrounded by adolescents 24/7. Sit with that for a minute. Her writings and teaching blog can be found at www.jessburnquist.com.