Imagine the scene: four kids in a little car, hyper after a day of school. One frazzled mom who's in a rush to sign up two of the four for after school activities at the same time that the teeniest one wants dinner.
Manage to sign everyone up without a hitch and find a package of baby biscuits under the car seat, untouched and uncrushed, to keep the little one happy. Load all and sundry back into the car and attempt to leave the parking lot. Notice that the car is limping on the right hand side. Get out of car to find that the tire is flat beyond chez flat. Cell phone? Safely plugged in at home.
See, it's this whole, "Holy-shit, I've-got-to-figure-out-how-to-deal-with-this" and "oh-my-God, I'm-the-one-actually-responsible-for-all-these-people" that just makes me want to lock myself in a closet in some remote ruin of a house in the mountains.
I'd never changed a flat tire in my life. I had a rough idea of where the spare was thanks to another flat tire experience outside of Patrickswell, Ireland but I only had Kitty in that car that time. She was able to flag down a one-armed man who, with cigarette firmly between his lips, proceeded to change that tyre (we were in Ireland after all) faster than you can say, "Guinness."
This time, no one-armed man in sight, I started to freak out. Like Bambi caught in the headlights, I looked around the parking lot trying to figure out what to do when the voice of reason, aka Mini-Husband, pipes up,
"Mom! There's a garage just over there, remember?"
God, how I love that kid.
And God, how I love that man, who turned out to be the mechanic's cousin, who didn't laugh at my spare tire inadequacy, my accent, or the two boys who wanted to know everything about changing tires. He talked me through the process and I swear, if this happens again, I think I can do it myself. Third time's the charm, right?
I'm not sure who took greater joy in this story last night. Hubster when he heard it recounted to him 3 times or Mini-Husband when he talked how he saved us from the horrible winter wind and a long walk home by remembering that garage. The Princess swears she was going to suggest the garage as well, since she remembered seeing it once when she was three. Bubba-Love thought he could have changed the tire himself and has promised to do just that next time.
Nothing like having several witnesses to the moments in your life when you feel like a complete sausage. Those who will love to repeat said story, over and over again until you die.