Anatomy of a Bad Day

So this is obviously much overdue, but I've been meaning to write this blog post for almost two weeks. Some catch up first: Our weekend in Charleston was nice. The worship was just what I needed, though it was bittersweet--and not for the reasons you would expect. That Sunday was the one-month anniversary of my dad's death, and the last song Tim and the band played was "I'll Fly Away," the song we had my dad's musician friends play at his funeral. So that was tough. I'm sure everyone thought I was just upset about West Shore closing, but it was so much more. Afterward, we had a huge lunch with a ton of people at a Mexican place and it was very nice.

The following weekend, on Friday, Quinn and I packed up Trish's wedding dress, two giant glass beverage jars, a "cake" made out of dish towels on a glass cake server, two strollers, a suitcase, a backpack, and 25 diapers. Then we attempted to drive to Tallahassee. I say "attempted" because this was by far the longest day you could imagine. We got off early, and though I hoped Quinn would sleep through the first couple hours, that most certainly did not happen. He was cranky and would throw everything I handed him, from toys to blankets to sippy cup. He even threw his pacis, which I really hate to give him anyway. So we got about halfway to Tallahassee before we stopped in Macon for lunch. I found a Cracker Barrel and pulled Quinn out of the car just before locking my keys in the backseat. Seriously? (Redeeming factor: Quinn, and my cell phone, was with me and not locked in the car.) I went inside and got the number for a locksmith. When he finally got there, it only cost me $45 of the $55 in cash I had on me. After a quick lunch, we got back on the road. Quinn did sleep a little after lunch, which helped time pass a little faster. We got to Thomasville, pretty close to the state line and Tallahassee, when I failed to move over a lane for a stopped police car. That's a nationwide law now, by the way, which if you knew, don't tell me. Jalal didn't know either. A very nice young policeman pulled me over. Aaargh! Quinn was quiet as a mouse the whole time, which was wonderful to not add to the stress. The cop explained what I did wrong and ran my license while I prayed and tried hard not to freak out. (Pretty successful, I would say.) The redeeming factor there was that he only gave me a warning, not a ticket. Whew. I swear that it will never happen again and pull away carefully. I call Trish, tell her what happened, and she said, "Are you ever going to get here?" I said, "No, I'll probably hit a moose next and total the car." (It was a pretty desolute area, so that wasn't outlandish.) Not two miles down the road, and still on the phone with Trish, I hear and feel what sounds like a rock caught up in my undercarriage. Then my battery light comes on. I tell her since I'm only 20 or 30 minutes from Tallahassee, I'll just keep going as long as it doesn't change. Then the check engine light comes on and the car begins to overheat. I pull over at the next possible place, a chained up gas station swarming with lovebugs. I'm on the phone with Jalal at that point, losing service as I say, "What do I do?!" I turn off my car as the steam/smoke begins to pour from under the hood. The short answer is that my serpentine belt broke (not a rock). Trish called her fiance, Wade, down from a roof somewhere and they both drove up separately to pick me up. It took forever to get my car up on the tow hitch because it sits about 2 inches off the ground. But what a nice thing to have my sister and Wade there instead of some sweaty tow truck guy. It was just about dark before Wade figured it out. Wade and Quinn got to ride back to town together while Trish drove me. So Quinn got his first truck ride and first front-seat ride. Wade and his buddy Roy fixed my car over the weekend, which was awesome, while I did bridal stuff with Trish (and my mom, who arrived Saturday morning). Quinn did not sleep well in the hotel, partly because he doesn't sleep if someone near him is awake. On Saturday, he had such a great time all day, even though he was only going on about a 20-minute nap. I was so impressed, until he melted down at dinner and we had to drive back to the hotel by ourselves while the others packed up the food and brought it to the hotel. Our trip home on Monday went really well. Quinn slept for a freakishly large portion of the trip, I found pretty cheap gas right when I needed it (but before I got desperate), and I only ate about 600 calories worth of candy to stay awake. Whew, what a trip. Remind me not to travel alone with Quinn ever again. It doesn't seem to work for us. And that is the "anatomy of a bad day."
Love, Us.