Don't tell Jed

As some of you know, I am not a natural mother. I never think I am particularly good at this role, nor do I try too hard. Don't get me wrong...I absolutely adore my kids, but I'm a firm believer that my life goals shouldn't change just because I am a parent. And that's where I get into troubles like these...after an unproductive day where mostly I suffered from a miserable cold, I left the house in a hurry because I had to pick up Kyra and return to my house in time for my writer's group meeting. I loaded up my car (Jed's ol' Explorer) with Ethan, student papers to grade (you never know when you could squeeze some work in, at a stop light, in traffic, etc...), diaper bag and backed out of the garage.

Lately, we have to get out of the car to close the garage door because for some odd reason the remote only opens the door. Leaping out of the car to do precisely that, I realized that I forgot my jacket, so I ran into the house. The phone rang just as grabbed my jacket and I hesistated for a moment wondering whether it might be an important call. Normally, I would pick up the phone ( I know, terrible, huh?) or at least check caller id...but this time something urged me out the door. I ran through the garage and reached for the button to close the door, thinking about all the papers I had to grade by Wednesday, when I realized that my car was no longer where I left it. The car was backing down my driveway with increasing speed!

A million things ran through my head: someone's stealing my car, Ethan engineered his Great Escape, and the worse, perhaps, I didn't set the car in "park." Meanwhile, I was running as fast as I could, postholing through the snow barefoot in my crocs, screaming, "No, No, No." What were my options? Grab hold of the fender and pull with all my might? Throw my body behind the car? Or behind a wheel?

Thankfully, a little miracle happened. With pure adrenaline and fear, I managed to get into the moving car and saw that indeed I did leave the car in "reverse." Geez....what a horrible mother I am.

p.s. I tried so hard not to tell Thomas about this incident, but he had such a horrible day that I felt he needed perspective. Surprisingly, his only response was silence, and shaking his head from side-to-side for a very long time. His lips quivered somewhere between a frown and a smirk.