Revoke My Adult Card
There are days when I feel like my adult card should be revoked.
Example? Last Saturday I got a speeding ticket and my tire exploded.
Let's discuss the first one. I received my ticket on a street that I warn everyone else not to speed on. I whole-heartedly deserved my ticket. The officer was incredibly nice and I'm pretty sure I came across as only slightly crazy.
I'd just deposited my children with my ever patient and loving in-laws and was driving home. I had not showered yet and my hair stuck up all around my head like a greasy halo. Oh yeah, and I was in my pajamas. Shall I tell you about the interior of my car? It looks like a toddler lives there but with no one cleaning up after the miniature person. My back seat is full of kid seats (one toddler and one infant). The floor boards contain baby slings, extra diapers and wipes, toys, emergency changes of clothes, a box of clothes that a friend gave me for my four month old that I have yet to bring inside, and a sprinkling of snacks that Mr. G has thrown at me while driving.
I've pretty much given up on keeping my car clean. This might be a bad thing. But my mom keeps telling me to pick my battles and this is one battle I'm waving the white flag for.
Now the tire.
Luckily it did not explode while driving. In fact, it was kind enough to wait until I'd parked in a Target parking lot. I'd turned the car off and I was already looking forward to wandering around the clothes section without a cart full of screaming children when BOOM! Really loud sound, similar to a car backfiring or a gunshot, and the rear end of my car sunk.
I got out. Looked at the back end. Called my husband on the verge of tears. Whose tire explodes in a parking lot? Parked? Mine does, that's who.
Since my husband was working and my parents live closer to where my tire betrayed my trust, my dad came to my rescue. Turns out the sidewall of my tire failed. Thankfully I didn't have the kids with me and it wasn't on the highway. (By the way, always buy insurance for your tires.)
While the tire was being replaced my dad and I had coffee across the street. I admitted that I felt like a failure as an adult. Here I am, thirty years old, and I call my dad to come rescue me. Shouldn't I be more grown up by now?
And my dad says something along the lines of: you do your growing up with your kids. Before kids, yeah you're an adult, but then you have them and you do the rest of your growing.
Thank God for parents. I don't know what I'd do without mine.