Wednesday, September 15, 2010

These Are the Brakes. Reason No. 2,477 That I Love My Son.

Okay, so last night I got my brakes done.

I have a mechanic friend who was doing me a favor, so at least I didn't have to carve out a small fortune for this endeavor. I did however, eat up a pretty large chunk of something that's more valuable to me these days than a Best Buy BOGO--my time.
I get that the whole "time is money" thing is not exactly an original platform to stand on.  But anymore I have so precious few waking hours available in which to start making a dent in that ever-expanding bucket list of mine, I'm going to have to either:
a.  figure out how to function on two hours of sleep
b.  clone myself OR
c.  dive back into that collection of time management books I've been gathering and start to seriously trim the fat from my routine.

But anyway, I digress.  Back to the brakes story and why I fell another three worlds deeper in love with my son last night.

As much I'd love to point the finger at someone else, the truth is I don't have anyone to blame but myself for last night's frustrations. Here's how my night went:
1. Pick up brake pads.  Take them to mechanic.
2. Mechanic sees that I need rotors too.
3. Go back to auto parts store.  Pick up rotors.  Go back to mechanic.
4. Mechanic realizes I have the wrong brakes.
5. Go back to auto parts store.  Exchange brakes.  Endure the "blonde-like" embarrassment of realizing I gave the auto parts guy the wrong year of my car the first time.  Hang head in shame.  Go back to mechanic.
6. Mechanic fusses with new brakes for about an hour.  Finally realizes I have the wrong rotors too. (Nope.  It didn't dawn on either one of us before that. My excuse is being distracted by my son.  I don't know what his excuse was - LOL).
7. Go back to auto parts store!  Secretly plan to mention store clerk in my next book dedication for being so cool and making me laugh.  Finally get the right rotors and head back to the mechanic's for what I pray will be the last time.
I don't know if you were counting, but that's not  one, two or even three trips back to the auto parts store within the same night -- it's FOUR.  Yup.  Four trips total back and forth to the auto parts store in about a three hour period.  My darling 4-year-old son accompanied me on all but the first of these trips.
Now, by Trip 3 I was already past whatever wit's end is.  And by Trip 4 I was.... well let's just say I wasn't doing well.  I'd taken care of feeding my son, but I hadn't eaten more than a few slurps of soup myself. I was exhausted and I knew I still had about two hours worth of work to finish before going to bed.
As I stumbled my way towards the loaner car to begin the trek towards the auto parts store yet again, son in tow, I look down at my son and say, "Oh, I think Mommy's gonna cry."  HE says, without hesitation, "Mommy, are we going back to the same store again??"  I said, "Yes."  He said, "I think they're gonna cry too!"  And I just grinned.  In seconds, that sweet little darling had me smiling in the midst of one of those frustrating for stupid reasons kind of moments.  And in 6 little words, he made it all better. 
And so in the middle of my "Case of the Brake with the Mistaken Identity" fiasco, I've realized yet again why I just can't stop lovin that little guy.
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