I forgot to take out the trash...again.

Though Tim is gone, so it isn't as though the can is overflowing. I almost tracked the truck down; after all, he was only about 5 houses down. But then I thought, "Forget it. I'll just set it out next Tuesday."

C., J. and I left to take J. to school. After I dropped him off, I went to DJ's to vaccuum her house. Do I love cleaning, or what? No really, she broke her arm and can't do everything needed to be done, so I went over there this morning. By the way, there's a REALLY funny story there-not that a friend should laugh at another friend's broken bones, but HA! This one is really funny. . .

Anyway, I left DJ's and went to PetSmart to buy dog food. Then, my gas light came on. So, I stopped to get gas. After this, I thought, "I should put air in that low tire while I'm here," but a van was blocking the air compressor.

So, I went to three more gas stations searching for air, killing time until 12:15 when I needed to pick up J. from school. One had no air station, a semi was using another one, the third one just seemed kind of shady... I drove to preschool.

Two blocks away from the school, there was another gas station. With an air compressor. I got C. out of the car to get quarters from the man behind the counter inside. I never leave my kids alone in the car, even for a minute. It seems dangerous; bad things could happen. C. was nice enough to hold my keys for me while I exchanged my dollar bill for change. I put C. back in the car, shut the door, put air in all the tires, put the little valves back on, and went to drive away. Timmy, you'd be really proud at how expertly I put air in those tires!
At least to this point in the story.

I went to my door and- door locked.

Passenger door, back door, trunk door-locked.

C. is inside, it's 68 degrees and climbing, and my car is locked. (Insert explitive of choice here. Grrrr.....) C. is looking at me through the glass, smiling as if to say, "Didn't you hear the horn honk when I locked the door earlier when you were silly enough to let me hold your keys?"

No, I didn't.

I'm staring at my car thinking, "70 degrees isn't too hot to suffocate in a car, right?" "I've got to get J. at school in 15 min." "I'll call the school." "My phone is in the car." "I have to leave this car, with my baby in it, to go inside and make a phone call. There's got to be another way."

The man behind the counter of the gas station shouts to me (because I'm shouting at him, standing in the doorway thirty feet away so I can see C). "This happens all the time!" he says. "If there's a baby in the car, call 911. Otherwise call a locksmith." This nice man lets me use his cell phone to call 911, and I wait outside.

Not five minutes later a fire truck comes screaming into the gas station, lights, sirens-the whole lets-bring-on-as-much-attention-as-possible-to-this-negligent-mother-who-just-doesn't-feel-bad-enough-already-shaBang. Five firemen leap off of the truck and rush to get the car door hook hanger opener thingy. I say, "This is like a rescuing a kitty out of a tree job. I'm sorry."


They reassured me that it was priority; not petty; that I called the right people; this is what they're for; there's a child in the car, so I did the right thing. By the way, here's the paperwork you need to fill-out.

Question #1: Driver's license # _____________________
I've got that right here...uhm....no I don't. Where's my driver's license? AHHH! It's with my plane ticket in the baby carrier in the kitchen at home "for airplane check-in convenience" I explain to the friendly fireman. I'm appearing more and more responsible by the minute, I can tell.

They had the door open in five minutes and did a medical five point check on C., which was funny because I was the one freaking out-mildly. C. was laughing, enjoying seeing fire engines and firemen come to his rescue.

Almost recovered enough to laugh at the situation, I'm at the preschool by 12:18. Whew!

We're home just after 12:30, and I check the ergo baby carrier for my license. Not there. I check my carry-on bag, the suitcase, the pants I wore home. Not there. Not there. Now I'm wondering how I'm going to find the time to re-take the driver's test to get a NC license with two toddlers and Tim gone. Let alone pass the written test. I can never remember how many feet a pole is allowed to be when it's sticking out of the back of your vehicle. Then I remember, THE TRASH!

I rush outside and dig out the bag that had the papers I cleaned out of my carry-on luggage two days ago. Sure enough, tucked inside the envelope with my boarding pass, was my good old Missouri driver's license with two years of goodness left in it.

Yes God, I see now that you wanted me to have that driver's license and you used my hectic morning, an early trash man, C.'s eagerness to play with keys, firemen, and a low air pressure light to lead me to it. Maybe not the way I would have led a dumb sheep to the green grass, but whatever. You're God. And I can legally drive again.