kiwords

Today I want to tell you a story about why you don't want to be me, inspired by my genius move this morning. (Long story short: I got up special and early to have an ugly-cry argument with Clay about his RELATIONSHIP with the kids being more important than the rules, and then proceeded to have a complete screaming fit at the children when they got up. Because they weren't doing what I wanted. Nice. Also? I was angry because Raphi wasn't getting ready in time for the program at church. So I screamed at everyone. Because church is so important. I am seven different shades of hypocrite and jerk, and this was all before 9 AM. Don't try this at home.)

So, keeping with the theme of the day, I decided to tell you about the Very Dumb Thing I did about a month ago.

It was a Saturday - a rainy Saturday, which seemed gloomy at the time, but now that my entire state seems to be on fire? Sounds LOVELY. Did you know that half of the nation's fire fighting resources are currently in Colorado, apparently? Yeesh. Please pray for us.

Anyhow, this particular rainy Saturday, Max had a rehearsal for Honor Band. It was the day before his concert, so they were practicing downtown, to get a feel for the stage. I'd dropped him off at the door then swung around to park in the nearby ridiculously overpriced parking lot. Raphi and Sophia were quiet and contemplative in their respective back seats. As I pulled into my parking space, I...I didn't HIT the car in the next space, exactly. I was driving slowly, if stupidly, so I just sort of...PRESSED my bumper against their fender. It was so gentle a contact that neither Raphi nor Sophia even noticed. 

And that was why I did what I did next. 

I backed up, straightened out, and pulled more carefully into the parking space. Then I turned off the van and sat there, thinking wildly. No one saw. It was barely even a bump. We were in the process of changing car insurance companies, because adding Tre to our insurance was traumatic. I could just...walk away.

And that, friends, is what I did. Shaking like a drug addict, I scooped Sophia out of her seat, waved Raphi to me, and strode away.

For the next hour and a half, the littles and I wandered around the building and waited for Max to be done. They clambered up and down stairs, peeked in classrooms (it was a university building), and doled out genial disruption. I staggered around behind them, weak under the weight of my wrong-doing. Or wrong-not-doing. I couldn't even think over the thundering of the car's tell-tale...um...dent. By the time we were done, I knew I couldn't do it. If the car was still there, I was going to leave a note. 

Lest you think "OH, she had clearly had a change of heart and wasn't nearly the terrible person she seemed to be," my first thought when I saw it was still there was "dangit!" But still, a woman of my word (sort of, and after nearly ducking out on my responsibility completely), I started writing a note on a slip of Raphi's origami paper. As I stood there (in the rain. And the guilt), awkwardly scribbling my note, the car's owners walked up. (Did I mention the other car was a pristine BMW? Because OF COURSE IT WAS.)

To make the whole thing even better? Their adorable children were ALSO in Honor Band. 

I stammered out my story, in response to which the wife all but cuddled me - "OH, but how GREAT of you to let us KNOW! And I know I have TOTALLY done things like that!" - and the husband peered at the fender, then looked at me and said with real bewilderment, "How did you DO that?"

After all the pertinent information had been passed around, we both got in our vehicles and drove away. And promptly got stuck in a traffic jam. For a half hour we crept along, side by side, trying not to look at each other, while I leaked miserable tears and my children assured me that it was SOMEHOW the other people's fault. 

So this is my great achievement from that day. I managed to BOTH be irresponsible AND have to face the consequence of my actions. So no matter how great the temptation, whatever you do, don't be me.