Being a mom to four (and a half) kids is challenging, but doable on my best days. Of course, those "best days" don't happen very often. Controlled chaos describes most other days. And then there are the days that have me questioning why I even leave the house. Like yesterday.
It's no secret that I'm usually cutting things close. The girls' preschool teachers will tell you that ours is almost always the last car to screech up to the drop-off zone in the morning. Girls not attending school that day may or may not be still pajama-clad. And, I put most procrastinators to shame with what I manage to put off on a daily basis. Filling up the gas tank in the minivan is one area I could improve on. There's just never a convenient time to do it. So, it's usually the flashing warning light of a too low tank that finally forces me into a gas station these days. And, that warning light will have been on a for a few days, too. I know, it's an irresponsible postion to continually put myself (and my little passengers) in. I mean, what would happen if I ran out of gas with all of the girls in the car??
Well, I can now tell you. It's fresh in my mind and not pretty. Of all places to run out of gas, I managed to do so on the maybe 1/4 mile stretch of freeway we take on the way home from the girls' preschool. (I know I would have made it home, and beyond, if not for how long it took two chatty, distracted girls to buckle themselves in at pick-up. Apparently, the only thing that drains faster than my patience is my idling, comfortably air-conditioned car's gas tank). Luckily, I was able to coast to one side, but I still had hundreds of cars careening by and honking. Not an ideal location to stop, to say the least. When I turned around to explain this litlte snafu to the girls, they took it pretty well. They each asked for a Starburst, which I was able to deliver, and Annie stated, pretty matter-of-factly as she expertly opened her Starburst wrapper, "The policeman will help us." No one seemed worried, except me. I called our roadside assistance, explained our situation, and tried to convey how major this interesction/freeway entrance was to my Geico rep, and how nearly every driver coming our way was flipping me off. Even after being patched through to the highway patrol, no one was in a huge rush to help us out in less than an hour.
At that point, even though we were technically waiting for a tow truck to arrive with gas, I decided I couldn't just sit there waiting to be rear-ended. And, since there were gas stations within sight, an actual sidewalk on the side of the freeway at that point, and crosswalks a little ways back, I unloaded the double stroller and all four girls, and we set off on our gas-getting adventure. In my mind, it was way safer and more practical than sitting, waiting for someone to hit the car. It took about 10 minutes to walk to the nearest gas station, and we were definitely the sight, between the waddling pregnant lady pushing twins and two preschoolers decked out in their beach attire for "Beach Day" at school. But, we managed to buy a little gas tank, fill it up, and make the return trip back to the car, all before any assistance arrived. I was halfway done pouring the gas in the car's tank by the time the first CHP officer arrived, and buckling the girls back in their seats when the tow truck drove up.
I'm making a vow now to never be in that situation again, and kind of hoping that at least one person reading this has had this happen to them. I can't be the only one, I hope...
After that adventure, french fries were definitely called for. We don't make a habit of frequenting the Burger King drive-thru too often, but I was not going to be cooking lunch after all of that. And, Bridget must have questioned my ability to handle the dishes, too, since she volunteered to spend her cherished five minutes of post-lunch, pre-nap free time doing them for me.
My hands are full, and things slip through the cracks -- a lot -- but I think I may be doing at least a few things right when I can still get a smile like this occasionally.
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