This is the part where I make a bunch of self deprecating jokes. Something along the lines of how I am an idiot. Something close to singing a song called “Man, I Feel Like A Woman” or creating a transition from 9/11 victim’s families to dogs jumping out of planes (thanks to, Nightline, for the material). For real though, I am dumb. So dumb. So dumb.
Today was all set to be full. Watching a friends’ child. Taking all three up to preschool. Arranging for someone else to stay with the two younger ones while I attended a Mother’s Day Lunch with Gideon. Back home to nap the little ones and prep the house for our Thursday night group. Planning was done. Execution was the only thing left.
Did I mention that we can only carry two car seats in the back? I don’t know what happened to those things over the past couple of decades, but good luck having three children and packing them all into a sedan. It, quite simply, will not work anymore. The seats are bigger (and better, I am sure) and the kids are safer (or at least seated on beautiful fabrics wrapped over fantastically soft cushions). So, I had to borrow our friends’ van.
And I forgot it was trash day.
Until I ripped off the side mirror. The side mirror that does not belong to me.
And knocked over the trash can. The trash can that most definitely is mine and full of my yard clippings and chicken breast trimmings. Oh yes. That was all mine.
I immediately did what everyone in this situation would do. I called my mom. She talked me down and I didn’t even shed a tear, which, let’s face it, is a Cinco De Mayo miracle, people. I opened up the garage again and got a shovel. There was no way I was ever going to be able to set that can back up by myself and I am convinced that God Himself sent me a random man to help me right that black stinking smoldering can of refuse. And then I shoveled my old broccoli and grass back into it.
Next I found the duct tape. Using four pieces I secured the mirror and realized that it was not quite as bad as I originally thought. But you know how car stuff is. It’s always simultaneously not a big deal and expensive.
A bunch of really awesome things then happened that aren’t interesting at all. Everything worked out and the van was all fixed by the time the girls were up from their naps. Don’t worry, I told the van’s owner what happened. By text.
I know. I know. Not exactly proper, but I lost my Ms Manners page on “When You Break Other People’s Things and Have To Tell Them But Are Totally Embarrassed By How Idiotic You Actually Just Proved Yourself To Be.”
I cried later. I feel better now.
Driving Lessons from Old Lady Chic
I am SO excited that you are blogging again!