I’m not sure what to call this here post. I don’t want to sound cheesy. Or preachy. Or complainy. I most certainly DO want to break rules of punctuation and make up my own words for the sake of emphasis.
We’ve had car issues up the ying yang. It all started when the “Party Time” Cruiser gave a good whine and then stopped running while El Jefe was dropping off The Todd at the airport.
Thank goodness for AAA.
As we wondered how to go about getting it fixed in the most affordable manner, the brakes on our other car started grinding. And I mean grinding. It’s a terrible feeling. But you can’t just not use your brakes. It’s a real problem. One that we just fixed in the “Party Time” about a year and a half ago (it was bad, though, mostly because we let it go too long…ahem).
We had to avoid that issue with this car right? We were down to one car and we had to take care of that as well.
So El Jefe took the car so he could fix it immediately after work and my plan was to ride bikes to school with the kids. Knowing I’d have to pump the tires because I hadn’t really ridden it this summer, I stepped into the back yard to set things up. Huh, no bike. I checked the side of the house. I checked the shed. I checked the courtyard again.
And then it hits me. I’ve been robbed. I check the back yard again and sure enough, El Jefe’s mountain bike (a nice one, that he got at a thrift store, to fix up and teach himself a little more about bikes) is gone as well.
“Are you kidding me?” “Are you kidding me?” I yell at the imaginary butt-head who stole our bikes. (“Mom, we don’t say butt-head.” ” No we don’t unless somebody has stolen your bike, ok dear?”)
I felt so invaded. So angry. So like lemon juice was being poured on my paper cut.
But there was nothing to be done at the moment. I changed the bike trailer into a jogging stroller (punks didn’t steal that because it was safely tucked away but I’m sure they would have taken it, too. Jerks.) and walked the mile to school while Chunk #1 rode his bike. If you’re wondering why Chunk #2 didn’t ride her bike, it’s because we tried that, and oh my heavens it was a long trip. She has since agreed to the trailer (or rather the stroller) for now.
As you can guess, walking gives time for thinking. I wanted to cry at my situation. But there wasn’t time right then. No, instead, I remembered a talk that I just happened to listen to the day before (coincidence? I think not!). I felt connected because of the car theme. The working towards a stable future thing. And then the feeling vulnerable and foolish thing.
I’ll share because it helped me when I needed it. (I will now tell myself “Don’t you quit!”)