Monday morning, 8:35. It’s 16 degrees outside. It’s time to take the boys to school, which means loading six kids in the van yesterday because they have to be there by 8:50.
I’m sitting in the back of the van, cursing, yelling, and pulling at the seat, which is stuck in the down position, until I hear something pop in my arm. As the tears start to well up in my eyes I wonder, “How did my life come to this?”
The back seat of the van is down because we had to carry a friend’s table saw this weekend. Of course. That’s totally logical. And it’s frozen in place because we have a mystery leak in the back of the van, and the icy carpeting on the floor has fused itself to the seat.
I try to pull it up normally (again – why not?) but it’s completely jammed. I can hear the bar it rotates on creaking, and I’m thinking the weight of the saw was too much for it – it’s bent and permanently ruined. Which only fuels my anger. How the hell am I going to get my kids to school?!?!
Poor old Bessie Blue, my beloved van. She’s given us so much good service, she’s allowed to crash every now and then. But not now.
As I pull again it budges a little, so I’m determined to keep going.
I try to find the crowbar in the garage but can’t. I call and leave Dave a very nasty message on his voicemail because of course I’m blaming this situation on him. He probably has nothing to do with it but there is some wrong thing he did this weekend that led up to a Monday morning crisis for me. I’m sure of it. (Maybe hauling around a table saw?)
The first thing I do find that could be used for prying is a metal stake we use in the garden. This will be perfect – if I don’t get the seat up, at least I can slice my hand open and get tetanus.
The kids are waiting for me on the porch, where I can see them, but at least they’re slightly warmer in there and it’s safer than being out here, where I’m weilding rusty metal sticks and curse words.
I climb back onto the bumper, stab the metal bar down the side of the seat (without ripping the fabric), and start jumping on the bar.
It would be so awesome if I fell onto the driveway and knocked myself unconscious right now.
Eventually (on my third or fourth hop) I got the darn thing pried up, loaded the kids in record time, and made it to school before the bell, miraculously. But that’s just what I do – work miracles. Every day. Under duress. Has anybody seen my halo?