As parents, we all have them - Unbelievably Bad Days! I like to call these stories “the parenthood chronicles.” This one is courtesy of my cousin and documents a day she experienced last week. (Maybe after reading it, your day will seem a little better.)
“I was in the market for a jogging stroller. The Wisconsin fall weather made it a perfect time to think about walks in the cool, crisp air. I imagined the smell of leaves and the sound of them crunching under my feet as I walked. Bundling up my daughter with a soft blanket and tucking her in for a comfortable ride as I pushed her through the neighborhood. Now I just needed that stroller. As luck would have it, I found the model that I wanted on Craig’s List.
After agreeing on a price, I made the arrangements to pick up my new purchase. Okay, so it was 35 miles away. When I thought of the exercise it would inspire me to do, in addition to the quality time with my daughter, I didn’t mind the drive. But when you are a parent, the thing about making plans is that your day can quickly overbook.
The morning of the stroller pick up started like an ordinary day. I drove my son to preschool and took my car into the repair shop. It had been having trouble with the fuel gauge and this was the second time into the shop. After charging me the first time, they still couldn’t seem to find the problem. Still, I dropped the car off hoping that I would no longer have to record my millage in order to know when I needed to fill the tank up with gas.
I drove the rental car home and familiarized myself with the afternoon schedule. Have lunch with my daughter, pack up snacks and necessities for our drive, pick up my son at 3:30, meet the stroller lady at 4:30, turn around and be home in time to make my family a fabulous dinner. I had it all under control. UNTIL the repair shop called around 2:30.
They still couldn’t find the problem with the fuel gauge and wanted me to pick my car up. I looked at the clock. OK, that might work. I really wasn’t excited about taking the rental car to get the stroller anyway. But this would mean that I would have to pick it up after getting my son from preschool and call the stroller lady to tell her that I would be a half hour late. New schedule: school pick up at 3:30, repair shop 4:00, stroller pick up at 5:00, home and dinner 6:15.
As I stood in line to pick up my car, my kids ran circles around my body as they tagged each other. Then one would trip and fall to the ground, blame the other one, cry loudly and push the other child as payback. Despite my attempt to keep them calm as we waited, kids have their own plan when it comes to patience. I could feel my neck tensing up as I silently prayed, “Please, please don’t let this take much longer.” It only became more uncomfortable as the woman standing behind me (clearly NOT a Mother and doubtful that she ever had much experience with kids) shot me an annoyed and disgusted look that seemed to say, “BAD MOM…Control your kids!”
Finally, we were back in our own car and my sanity regained with the help of the DVD player. (The BEST travel item ever invented!) As I blocked out the sound of the kid’s movie, I even had some time to think about my great, new stroller. We were on an isolated stretch of road and just outside of the town when my daughter suddenly declared, “I have to go to the bathroom!” After trying to convince her that we were almost there, her cries became more urgent. Just when I could feel my stress level rising, the car slowed to a stop. I struggled to pull just off the road. I cursed my broken fuel gauge as I realized that we were out of gas.
Now my son began to cry, frightened that we ran out of gas. I reacted quickly, knowing that the situation would get worse if they sensed my worry. I pointed with my finger and exclaimed, “Look guys, we are going to walk up to that little restaurant. It will be a great adventure!” I grabbed our gear and held both of their hands as we made our way to the roadside bar up the street.
Surprisingly enough, my daughter made it the entire walk without an accident. The three of us, an unlikely Happy Hour trio, walked through the doors of a small Midwest bar. We used the bathroom, asked the bartender for a phone book and a recommendation of who I could call to bring us gas for the tank. A kind woman sitting beside us (a regular, I guessed) was quick to offer us help and said that her husband could bring a gas can and get us into town.
What a day! I would have ordered myself a drink if I would have had more than $2 cash in my wallet! So I took my $2 and bought each of my children a Sprite as we waited. I felt so defeated. I could only think of a few things that could have made this situation worse. A: If the kids were throwing up B: If it was snowing and below zero temperatures C: If my cell phone hadn’t been charged.
With the crisis behind us, I thanked the couple for their help and was back on the road still in pursuit of my stroller.
When I finally made it home that night, my nerves were shot. My hair, once styled and sprayed, now hung limp over my eyes. My body ached with fatigue. My eyes burned as I rubbed them. Empty McDonald’s bags from dinner-on-the- road fell out of the car as I unloaded the kids from the back. The last thing I did was unload my new stroller. I left it standing against the garage wall and I did not have one ounce of energy to even think about using it.”