The worst part of being a stay-at-home mother is the fear of being alone when something goes down. In my case, my husband works about an hour away, so when the business goes down, I have to wait at least 60 minutes before my knight in shining armor can come get me.
Brian has been instructed to do a morning death call. Each day if he hasn’t heard from me by 10, he’s supposed to call and make sure I woke up. God forbid, I’m on the floor unconscious while the children gnaw on my face for sustenance. It’s the stuff nightmares are made of. I wouldn’t put it past Scarlett to dump A1 on me first; she recently learned to open the fridge.
Yesterday my car broke down as I was driving along 2600 North in Pleasant View. This wasn’t your run-of-the-mill transmission issues, or my usual issue — running out of gas. No, the car started to accelerate out of control, like a teenage boy alone with a girl while his parents are out of town. There was no slowing it down, even while I pressed the brake to the floor in sheer panic. Without touching the gas, my car was going nearly 40 miles and hour and climbing. Luckily, I was able to pull off the road, yank my emergency brake, slam the car into park, and watch the engine rev up to five rpms.
I took a second to calm down, then called my hubby. This is where my panic turned to frustration. HAVE YOU EVER HAD A MECHANICAL ENGINEER DESCRIBE A MECHANICAL PROBLEM TO YOU!!?? He may as well be miming directions to me over the phone because I didn’t understand a word. I guess I understood the words, just not the usage.
Now look for the butterfly with the tube coming from it. Behind that there should be a loaded spring. Twist that to see if it springs back. It should be behind the air filter.
WHAT!?
There’s a butterfly under the hood? I’m supposed to touch the engine? Air filter? Whaaaaaaat? He was talking like I majored in M.E. instead of Communication (which I decided to get my degree in because it seemed to be the easiest). Sure, he builds rockets, but I proved to be smarter (or is it more smart?) after snapping a picture with my phone to send. Finally, I figured out what he was talking about, that a butterfly doesn’t actually look like the bug but how it moves mechanically. From the diagnosis, I learned there was no way I could drive my car home, which led to my next issue: How was I going to get myself and two children home?
Mom’s at work, grandparents are in St. George, Dad is off somewhere, and Scarlett just did a giant, stinky crap in her pants. She’s learning early that timing is EVERYTHING.
I’m alone. Everyone is at work, and I’m alone.
