I'm a lover, not a fighter.... No, really.

We've got some pretty massive (for us) changes on the horizon, and lately the activity around our house seems like the nesting you'd be doing if you were about to welcome an infant into your lives. We've installed a sprinkler system, replaced two lawns, a deck, built a sand box and moved the contents of our storage shed and our garage. We are go go go during the week and then bust outta here on the weekends to try and take in summer before it all slips away. That's what it feels like; it's all slipping away. I'm trying to stay in the moment and not let the panic of working outside the home sneak up on me. But let me tell you, that monster is waiting around every corner and loves to taunt me by rearing its head. I cannot escape the fact that I'm about to start doing something very different with my time. Maybe that's why lately I'm a bit more confrontational than normal....

Rewind to about a week ago.

Exhibit A:

I love playing out front with the girls. I love talking to the neighbors and we have a lot of foot traffic on our street and people are friendly. What I do not love is that we live on a straight stretch of 25 mile per hour road, where people generally go 40-45. Many go even faster. It feels like we live on a highway. There are also lots of small kids and dogs in the neighborhood. So, the other day as I'm leaving I notice our side gate is open and I pull back into the driveway to close it. As I'm getting back in my car a 70s-ish Chevy Chevelle (I know nothing about cars, but this one had a giant label across its windshield to identify it) takes off and goes hauling past our house way too fast. So I follow him in a low speed (25 mile an hour to be exact) pursuit. I go to the end our our road and then wind through the neighborhood, but of course there's no way I'm going to catch him. So, I surrender the chase and head (on a main street) toward town to resume my errands. Three blocks later the Chevelle pulls onto the road behind me. I watch him in my mirror and when he takes a right, I take the next one. I wind through a neighborhood until I spot him pulled over talking to a man in a Suburban loaded with kids. By this time my heart is pounding. This is soooooo not like me, but I'm so fed up with the speed on our street. So, I pull up to where the two men are talking.

I ask him, "Hey were you just out on [our street] driving north?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Listen I'm not just trying to be a hard---, but I live on that street. I have a two and a three year old. We play in the driveway as do lots of other families. There's really no reason for you to be driving that fast, and we'd sure appreciate it if you'd slow down."

"Uh, yeah. No problem. I can do that. Sorry."

"Thanks."

And I drive off. Then Libby says, "Mom, who was that man?" and I say, "Just a man who drives too fast. End of story. Well, not really. After that I called Shane to tell him what I'd done. For me, it was a small victory, and he was a nice guy. It's not going to solve the problem, but at least that guy's not going to be the problem.

Exhibit B:

Now, fast forward to last Friday. We're returning home from lunch at The Scandinavian Festival and pass by a driveway on our street where five people are piling into a small car. That car pulls in behind me and just as I'm about to turn into our driveway I look into my rear view mirror. I wish I hadn't looked into my mirror. Because what I see is the teenage driver of that car with his window down, arm out, making gestures that I can only interpret to mean, "Get the ---- outta my way. You're slowing me the ---- down." Oh, I wish I hadn't looked in my mirror, because now I'm hot. Not Halle Berry in 007 hot, but more Steve Martin buying hot dogs, hot. I slam on my brakes, put it in park and tell Shane, "Stay in the car." The problem with getting so fired up, is that much of that confrontation is a blur. I know I came at this kid yelling. I know I told him that I have small kids and that there's no reason for him to be speeding past my house. I know his rebuttle was the fact that he was "only driving 26 miles per hour." to which I replied, "ONLY BECAUSE I WAS IN YOUR WAY GOING THE SPEED LIMIT!" But from inside the car Shane heard him talk back to me, which was enough to get him hot, so when I returned to my driver's seat, my passenger was missing. Then when I jumped back out of the car to break up the fight that I'd started, I realized I'd put my car into reverse, and now it's slowing rolling toward the car behind us. I jumped back in, put it in park (phew) and got back out only to stand in between my husband and this gesturing kid's front seat passenger who is now out of his seat. He appears not to be a teenager and is no small guy. Shane later told me the three kids in the backseat were staring wide eyed, but seemed intent on staying put. I also thought I heard someone tell Shane to get control of his wife, but maybe those were just my own thoughts.

In the end some neighbors had quite a show, no one fought and luckily our next door neighbor who almost dialed 911, didn't. Peyton was asleep, but Libby heard the entire row. I'm not proud of that. Later that day, the father of the girl in the backseat of that car came down and introduced himself, shook our hands, had a beer and agreed about the speed problem on our street and the disrespectful nature of some teenaged drivers. I think his words were, "Sometimes punk--- kids need an ---whoopin'." I like this guy. A lot. For the record, neither Shane nor I are interested in whoopin' on anyone. Least of all, drivers who are still kids themselves. But, I definitely took this one personally. My tolerance is down. My hackles are up. And if I'm really honest, it probably has to do with what's on our immediate horizon. Not just the speed of the drivers on our street. Maybe we all just need to slow down and spend some time takin' it in.

I think it's no coincidence that a friend of mine posted this on facebook today. Talk about taking the high road. If this guy can do what he did......