Yes, a summer of sand volleyball and football had wrecked havoc on my vehicle. There was sand in every nook and cranny, and the side pockets of the back seat were stuffed with left-over Gatorade and potato chip bags from after-game snacks.
About half-way through the purge, the 11-year old came outside and asked if I would move my car so he could play basketball. I obliged, stuck the keys in my sweatshirt pocket, and continued to tackle upholstery.
It was a sunny afternoon, and I soon got hot scrubbing God-Knows-What off of the passenger seat door. I stripped off my sweatshirt and continued to clean the inside of the door until it gleamed. Then I got out and went around to the other side to start the process all over again.
Only problem was, when I went to open the car door, it was locked. In fact, all the doors were locked.
And my keys were still in my sweatshirt.
Inside the @#$%ing car.
During all the cleaning, I must have hit the "Lock" button unknowingly. And, as usual, I had pulled this stunt on a day that my husband was on duty at the firehouse until the next morning.
Luckily, my parents only live about a mile away, so I changed into my running shoes and started walking their way. As I was about to pull in the driveway I remembered they weren't home either, and a phone call confirmed my suspicions.
Crap.
Time for girlfriend power. Sure enough, my girlfriend down the street from me was home, and immediately offered up her vehicle for me to borrow. Another mile stroll to her house, and help was in sight.
After dropping her car back off and pocketing my second set of keys for the day, I started off for the final voyage home. After running a half-marathon yesterday, I wasn't planning on much exercise today. But, ever being the optimist, I tried to make the most of it. My sore muscles were getting a nice easy workout, the sun was out and I heard the rest of the week was going to be nasty, and my neighborhood is full of big, old trees which are truly spectacular this time of year.
I was just starting to get over my grumpiness of losing a couple hours of my afternoon when I came around the bend in front of my house and saw the 11-year old out shooting hoops again. Basketball season is fast approaching, and it's his favorite sport. When I asked him if he had done his homework while I was gone, he told me not only had he done his homework, but he had read his new book for 30 minutes as well.
So tonight's picture represents a mother's happiness and pride that while she is struggling some days to just clean the damn car out, somehow her 11-year old has managed to carry on without her- and was actually much more productive. Now if only I could get him to unroll his socks before throwing them in the dirty laundry....
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