MARK MY WORD: KIDS COUNT IN CARRYING ON LIFE'S CONVERSATIONS

Moms and dads don't have that many original thoughts anymore. We just recycle the same ones over and over.

The silence was deafening.

Something was wrong. This couldn't be our car. We must be in the "Twilight Zone," I reasoned.

Joni and I were driving along Interstate 24, headed for Nashville and a newspaper conference without the kids.

We left them at home with Joni's mom.

We weren't used to such peace and quiet. There was no 4-year-old daughter, Becca, bouncing around in the back seat or 9-month-old daughter, Bailey, crying for a bottle or a diaper change.

As parents, we had long ago lost the fine art of conversation. We no longer can carry on a conversation without throwing in the automatic parental comments like "Becca, stop teasing your sister" or "What is the matter, Bailey? Did you drop your Buddy Bear?"

As parents, you have to repeat yourself a million times in advising, admonishing, encouraging and otherwise talking to your children.

Moms and dads don't have that many original thoughts anymore. We just recycle the same ones over and over.

We also don't ever finish our train of thought. It is always getting derailed by childhood interruptions.

But not last Thursday afternoon. We were cruising down the highway with not even a drop of spilled milk to distract us.

Joni and I managed to actually have a conversation that didn't involve the words, "Time Out."

But it wasn't long before we had exhausted our limited vocabulary.

We reached for a book-on-tape that we borrowed from friends and popped in the first cassette. It was a suspense thriller about bad doctors and drug experiments.

It kept us entertained, although I longed to hear just one parental outburst like "sit down and buckle up" thrown in for good measure.

It's asking a lot of parents to stay on a single subject so long.

The narrator had only finished half of the book when we arrived at our destination: the Opryland Hotel.

The place is huge. It's bigger than a lot of towns in Southeast Missouri.

We checked in at the front desk and then began our trek to our room.

To get there, we had to wind our way through a giant atrium, its glassed roof towering over a maze of a rain forest.

Lush foliage was everywhere, along with waterfalls and even fish.

You could easily get lost among the shrubbery and people did.

People routinely stopped every so often to ask hotel employees for directions.

We finally found our first-floor room. It had a back door, which opened onto the parking lot. If you like idling buses, the view's ideal.

We changed clothes and ventured out into the massive manicured maze of marvelous shrubbery in search of dinner.

Thankfully, the jungle does give way to civilization in the form of shops, restaurants and even a tame boat ride.

We ate dinner at a moderately priced restaurant. It seemed strange to order dinner without a high chair and chicken fingers.

We didn't stay out late in the hotel jungle. We were tired from our safari.

Friday, we maneuvered through the foliage to attend a newspaper awards luncheon. The newspaper picked up a bunch of awards, including one for my column.

The judges said my column was "light and breezy."

"Yeah, like a Twister," Joni remarked in that endearing way that only wives can do.

Personally, I'm thrilled that as a parent I still can be "light and breezy." It isn't easy when you're changing dirty diapers.

We returned home Friday night. The minute we walked in the door, we heard it. Noise. The babbling voices of our children.

We were thrilled. At last, we could converse again in disjointed sentences and enjoy our interrupted thoughts.

~Mark Bliss is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.