Three posts in one day? Something must have happened.
Every Friday, I take the kids to see their dad at his work. He works at a boarding school and has to be there late every Friday to basically babysit so we go have dinner with him. Today was no exception, except that my right front tire deflated. Nothing exciting like a blow-out, but slowly the car began to grind the ground. I knew what that sound was so I pulled over in a big driveway near an old barn. That property was recently purchased and a house was built there. I coveted that land forever, and now I can covet that memory of trying to change my tire there.
Here's the story. I've never changed a tire before. I know where the spare is, but that's about it. I went to get it and it was stuck. Apparently they are locked in. Didn't know that. I call my husband to tell him the tire is flat and I don't really know what to do. He doesn't answer. I call my father-in-law since he's handy with everything. He doesn't answer. I call my mom who can at least call the right people if I need a tow. She doesn't answer. What the hell is going on?
My mom calls back. I tell her I don't know how to get the spare out. She says it's locked in. So it's not just me. Good to know. She says she'll come over. While she's on the phone with me, a guy pulls over and asks if I need help. He's maybe the same age as me and smoking a cigarette. I tell him my tire's flat, but I've got someone on the way. Five minutes later, another guy who looks about twenty pulls over to check on me. I tell him the same. I appreciate them asking, but I've got my kids in the car and I don't know these guys. I'm sure that they were just being nice, but I don't take chances with my kids. Besides, by the time the second guy stopped, my husband was on the way.
For the record, I've gotten the lug nuts off and jacked up the car. The problem is that the driveway I pulled over in is gravel. The jack keeps breaking the rocks. Not helping. My mom gets there, feeds the baby, and amuses the five-year-old while I'm realizing that I'm never going to be able to get the spare on unless I find a way to get the car up higher. I find some packed dirt and lower the car, put the nuts back on, and back up. I get the jack back out, take the lug nuts off, jack up the car. It's better. I do a test on the tire. It cuts me. Do you know why? Because it was down to the metal in the tire. Yep, guess I should have gotten it changed when I had the chance.
Anyway, my husband gets there, he finishes raising the car and gets the tire off. It's super flat, by the way. He gets the spare on. He goes back to work after I pull the car out onto the road. I go home.
My mom follows me to make sure I get there okay. I do. I try to wash my hands (they're very filthy) and get hydrogen peroxide on my scrapes. I get my daughter dinner and some chocolate milk. I'm going to regret that in about ten minutes, but I don't know that yet. My son is fine. He got some bottle in the car so he's just crawling around, standing up, and chewing on stuff. You know, baby stuff. I'm in the kitchen trying to wash dishes and make the bottles up. Suddenly I hear, "Grammy, I made a spill". Oh, no. She spilled a little earlier and I told her the next time it happened, she'd have to clean it herself. My mom helps her get napkins and then goes to where the spill is. I'm still in the kitchen when my mom comes in to tell me napkins aren't going to do it. Great. I get dishcloths and go look. Jesus Christ, it's all over the floor. She must have spilled the whole thing. PS. It's nowhere near the table where she was eating. Apparently, she finished eating and went to play, and decided it was a good idea to bring her milk with her. Not so much. In any case, it got cleaned up, some of her toys got wet, and I made her cry. I emphasize that next time she needs to listen when I tell her to leave her drink on the table. Tearfully she says "yes". Mission accomplished.
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