Little car that could

At the part-time writing gig, I'm working on a story about extreme commuting. Apparently there are crazies in this country who will willingly spend upwards of two or three hours in their car, on a train or in a bus to get to work. They leave at 5 or 6 in the morning and don't arrive home until 7 or 8 at night. And their logic for this craziness: Good family life. And exactly what would that family life entail?

Apparently our rush to have a bigger house with more space, in the best neighborhoods with the top-rated schools is driving us further and further from the city. As a result, our commutes have increased to a national average of 25 minutes, but the number of commuters who travel 60 minutes or more has increased more than 50 percent in the past few years.

So that begs the question, when are you having this fabulous family time? It's not when you sit down to dinner, because most of these commuters are missing dinner time. It's not at the soccer game at 4:25 because the average arrival time at home is 7:30 -- long after soccer is over and bath time is looming. It's not at 7:30 a.m. either during cereal and a pre-recorded "Phineas and Ferb" because these high-driving workers usually leave the house before the sun makes an appearance.

I see my family and know that we could do better if I went back to work full time. And then I see my ball of fire with his sunscreen on his nose, playing stick ball with his friend Katy next door and realize that we are doing really good. We can keep the smaller house. We can live without the newest Honda. We don't have to do Disney again this year.

But I can't put sunscreen on his nose if I'm at work.

Ok, hang on, I'm having a mommy moment. It will pass in a minute...