Onslaught of NICE-IES

As we got out of the car to go to our sweet Aunt Lucy's funeral, my shoe broke. Not "Oh, poo, the heel broke. How inconvenient." This was "DUDE. Two of the three straps just separated from the footbed, so the only thing that's keeping this dumb shoe even ON my foot is one tiny strap and now I have to shuffle or risk breaking my ankle or leg or neck or all the above." [Perhaps this was a preview of what was to come that day ...] The plan was for us to say hi to the family and to leave before the funeral started. (Lee and I both agreed that funerals are no place for a one-year-old and a four-year-old.) Apparently I bemoaned my shoe straps bit too long because by the time we got inside the church, the service had already started. We stayed in the foyer during the funeral and I had hoped to see some family members after the service, but the kiddos were getting squirrelly and they needed lunch. So we walked (correction - they trotted, I shuffled) back to the van and headed back to town. I turned on my GPS and begged her to get me back to Crestview (the funeral was in Escambia Farms and to say my sense of direction is atrocious is a gross understatement). The kids were (understandably) fussy and were so ready for lunch (as was I) and finally my lovely GPS lady told me that Cracker Barrel is just ahead. Then I see the sign. Then she tells me AGAIN it's just ahead. Then I get annoyed. I GET it, GPS Lady. You don't have to keep telling me. I SEE Cracker Barrel. It's right there. Therefore I shall turn you off, Annoying GPS Lady.

Then my day changes.

I look down to turn my GPS off. I look up and am all, oh DUDE that lady in front of me stopped quick. Oh DUDE, I'm going to hit her. Yep. No doubt about it. Ooooooooooh, here it comes. BAM.

UGH.

I was pretty proud of myself, because nary a cross word came out of my mouth. I just kept repeating "I am so MAD! I am so MAD! I am so MAD!" And Natalie, in her adorable little four-year-old voice said "Are you mad because you broke the van, Momma?" Yep, kid, youuuu got it.

The lady I hit, me, and the gentleman in the car behind me all pulled into the turn lane (to go into a Burger King, no less). I rushed over to the lady and apologies start spewing from my mouth uncontrollably. She was beyond precious. These were pretty much her exact words: "Oh my GOSH, honey! Don't even sweat it! It happens to everyone! I'm okay, you're okay - it's just a CAR! And look, mine's not even damaged that badly." And it wasn't. Her late model Toyota Camry had a nickel-sized hole in the bumper. My van, on the other hand, looked like a hot mess. The front end look liked it exploded. She took my hand, looked me in the eye and said "Seriously, my car isn't new, it's not a big deal. It's not even worth reporting! I'm going to give you my name and my phone number. I don't want your name or your insurance information. Call me if you need ANYthing." She is my NICE-Y #1.

The gentleman in the car behind me didn't rear end me, but he just wanted to make sure we were all OK. I called Lee to let him know what happened and when I started crying too hard, I gave the phone to this man and he talked to Lee. He was so kind and so friendly and told Lee exactly where we were. He assured him we were all OK, that my crying wasn't due to any injuries (I'm sure Lee knew that - he knows he married a crier!), and that the van didn't look that bad. This man also talked to the cops and the fire department (who some other driver must have called one nanosecond after the wreck because I didn't call them and the lady I hit didn't call them). This gentleman is my NICE-Y #2.

We all drove into the Burger King parking lot (so we can get out off the main road). As I'm driving the short distance, I heard something rubbing against the front tires. I'm thinking, "Well THIS can't be good ..." We parked in spaces that look like they're not actual parking spaces because they were off to the side, but they were, in fact, legal parking spaces. This will be funny (?) later on in the day.

The officers and the EMT were also extremely kind. They made sure there were no injuries, and although I know they were just doing their job, I did think it was silly I had to sign a paper refusing any medical treatment (medical treatment for WHAT?! Being an uncontrollable sobby mess? Because do you have any drugs in your bag for that???). They didn't scold me or give me the side eye when I told them what happened. I was really tempted to leave out the part about looking down at my phone because I haaaaaaate that's what I was doing. I wasn't texting but I was paying attention to my dumb phone and not to the road. The officers were very sweet and very understanding. I asked them if it was safe to drive my van and they said that because I was so far from home (1.5 hrs) and because my airbags didn't deploy, that I ran the risk of them randomly deploying as I was driving down the road. Yeaaaaaah, that's enough for me to nix that idea. I can just imagine me bee-bopping on down the road and BOOM go the airbags. How awful. These officers and the EMT are my NICE-IES #3-#5.

After everyone left, the reality of the situation quickly set in. I now had two broken shoes (my first broken shoe had now completely fallen apart and I was holding the footbed to my foot with a hairband. I looked so ridiculous and it was just as uncomfortable as it sounds. Two of the three straps on my second shoe had now broken. So I two painful feet, one broken car, a husband who was in a meeting an hour away, two starving and whiny kids, and the only food option was Burger King. Greeeeeeeat. I put on a cheerful face and we shuffled/marched into Burger King. The kids and I get food and lo and behold - this Burger King has an indoor play area for kids!! I couldn't have hand-picked a better place to spend the next three hours of my day.

The kiddos waited at the table while I waited at the counter for their food. And in the span it took me to get the food to the table, Charlie had successfully dumped an entire cup of ice water in his lap. He was only half crying though - I'm sure the other half of him was thinking "Dude, this feels awesome! It's hot as fire outside and now I feel cool as a cucumber!" The kids ate and played on the jungle gym as I talked to the most delightful USAA representative and regaled her with my woeful tale. She is my NICE-Y #6. She was sympathetic, funny, patient, and very reassuring that this whole process would get taken care of quickly. We had four or five different phone calls because I wanted to keep talking to Lee to confirm with him what she and I were discussing, namely whether to tow the van somewhere closer to home or just have them tow it to a place in Crestview.

In between the phone calls, I spoke with the nicest people in the play area of Burger King. One man volunteered to rescue Charlie from the slide when he climbed too high and couldn't get down (because me in my dress in jacked-up shoes? I can't rescue ANYbody). He's my NICE-Y #7. Another gal, who looked a bit younger than me, had her two young kids with her. Her oldest was Charlie's age and her youngest was eight months old. She was so funny and so cute, and I loved seeing her oldest son and Charlie play together. She is my NICE-Y #8.

Another woman was particularly special to me. She was there with her 10-year old son, and she and I were talking about my wreck. Then I asked her if she knew if the gas station next door sold flip flops - and I motioned to my shoes. She looked very sympathetic but said she wasn't sure about that gas station. Just then Natalie marched up to me and loudly announced that she had to poop (seriously, why can't she remember to just say "BATHROOM" when we're in public?!?!?!"). This nice lady said that she'd gladly watch Charlie while I took Natalie to the bathroom. And if Charlie didn't have an unfortunate diaper situation himself, I would have left him. I know I just met this woman, but I could just tell she was just one of 'those' people. Those good, kind, lovely people. I did ask her if she'd watch my purse while I took them to the bathroom, because minimizing the gear that I had to shuffle to the bathroom would just be easier. And I know leaving my purse with a stranger is a crazy notion, but really, my day couldn't really get much crazier. When I got back to the play area, she and her son were packing up their stuff. I told her thank you and said I hoped she had a great day. She smiled and said "Stay right there. My son and I are going to run across the street to Walmart and buy you a pair of flip flops. I teach high school, so a lot of my girls come to me with shoe problems. I know how to fix a lot of broken shoes. But yours? There's no saving them!" My mouth fell open. It was such a simple gesture, but it caused my eyes to well up and tears to pour down my face. Her simple gesture meant I didn't have to shuffle two hot, sweaty kids across the parking lot to a gas station that may or may not have had flip flops. Her simple gesture meant that my feet wouldn't hurt any more. Her simple gesture lifted my spirits more than she could possibly know. I thanked her profusely and then reached for my purse to get her some money for the shoes. She laughed and said "Oh my gosh, it's Walmart! Their flip flops are $1! We'll be right back!" She smiled her wonderfully kind smile and left. It's no surprise that this precious woman and her sweet son are my NICE-IES #9 and #10.

Before I knew it, woman's son stood before me with a Walmart bag and a half smile. I thanked him and asked him where his mom was. He said she had to stop at the restroom but she'd be right in. I open the bag and tear up again. She did NOT buy me $1 flip flops. These were more like $10 flip flops. They were squishy, incredibly comfortable, and hot pink. They were perfect. And to spend that kind of money on shoes for a stranger just baffles me. And even as I type this, there are tears running down my face.

I have one final call with my sweet USAA lady and she confirms the tow truck and rental car. She said the tow truck should be there in about 30-40 minutes, so I give Lee a call to let him know to leave his meeting in Pensacola and head over to me in Crestview. Because we're both thinking: 30-40 minutes really means 60 minutes. Or it means SEVEN MINUTES. I hang up the phone, said hello to a friend of my NICE-Y #8 (who had just gotten there a few minutes ago, and had an impossibly beautiful eight-month old baby girl), looked up and saw the tow truck backing up toward my van. I jump up and yell for the kids to get their shoes on. This went over like a lead balloon with the Smithkids. They both start sobbing because I didn't give either of them any kind of warning that we were leaving, I'm fairly panicked at this point because he's already got my van on his truck (he seriously did that in what seemed like 30 seconds!) so I'm using my Exasperated Mommy Voice, and neither kid is a fan. But at least I have my comfy shoes on. Nat gets her shoes on, but I don't even bother putting Charlie's shoes on; I just throw his shoes in my purse and carry him and we run through Burger King and across the parking lot.

I call to the tow truck driver and that's when I see her. The only non-NICE-Y of my day. She appears to still be working off the effects from last night's partying. She looks slightly dazed and won't be winning any Walking in a Straight Line contests that day. When she sees me running (with two sobbing kids, no less) towards the tow truck, she yells at me "Yeah, lady, you're not supposed to PARK there! That's not a parking space! See those spots over THERE? THAT'S where you're supposed to park! THAT'S why you're getting towed! HA!" Had I not had my kids with me and had I not been already rained on in droves by my NICE-IES, perhaps I might have shot back with a snarky response. As it was, I just responded with an confused "Whaaaaaa?"

I got to the tow truck driver and pointed to the intoxicated gal and he laughed and said "She needs to lie down somewhere." He talked to Natalie and complimented her pretty dress and gave lots of high fives to Charlie. This guy is clearly a Daddy. I ask him to not take the van yet and explain how I needed the car seats for the rental car. He was so kind and so helpful, even with a heat index of 105*. He said that he had been out of the car seat world for a while, but said he'd be happy to try to help me get the car seats out. [Lee is Team Smith's car seat guy. He is a car seat ninja. He puts car seats into cars with an unparalleled force. So when he puts them in, I have a hard time getting them out. The tow truck driver even commented that he had never seen car seats installed so securely.] Again, logistics come into play. What do I do with the kids while I'm helping the tow truck driver take out the car seats? I'll tell you what I did. Natalie stood in the shade on the median (still whining because she's convinced we're never going back to the play area in BK). I turned the car on so the AC was blowing. Then I put Charlie in the back of the van and closed the lift gate - not unlike what you do with the family dog when you go on a road trip. [Side note - Natalie didn't want to get in the car with Charlie because she was worried he's start crying and she was in NO mood for his crying shenanigans].

It didn't take long for the tow truck driver to get the car seats out and he carried both of them as we all marched back into Burger King, like one big, tired, sweaty parade. The tow truck driver is my NICE-Y #11. As soon as the car seats were on the floor, Charlie and the oldest boy of NICE-Y #8 climbed in them and start playing with the buckles and clasps. It was precious. I also talked more with the friend of my NICE-Y #8. She said that her friend had just told her what happened and that she was so, so sorry that happened. This gal just oozed genuine compassion. I can see why she and NICE-Y #8 are friends. She also said she was glad we weren't hurt and that a van can be fixed. That it's just stuff. Preach it, girlfriend. She is my NICE-Y #12.

Not long after that, Lee got there. And a few minutes after that, Enterprise got there. In a gigantic quad cab truck. Lee was in heaven! The Enterprise gal as incredibly kind and helpful. The pickin's were slim at Enterprise and the truck was all they had that wasn't the size of a Chevy Aveo. It cost a bit out of pocket for us to have the truck, but she walked us through the process of what we can do if we want to downgrade to something smaller. She is my NICE-Y #13.

Thirteen strangers in the span of three hours who drastically changed my day. Thirteen strangers that may or may not have known they were showing me beautiful glimpses of Jesus. Salt and light, they were. They set such good examples of how we should treat others. Getting into a wreck was certainly not the highlight of my day, but the love shown to me by those 13 people far outweighed the frustration, embarrassment, and annoyance brought on by the car wreck. I would have missed out on the onslaught of my NICE-IES had I not hit my NICE-Y #1.

Romans 8:28 - And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose

Month 21 - Recap

My darling Ch,
"Ch", you might ask? What's that? Well I'll tell you. You appear to be all about efficiency. You see no need to say the whole names to things. You've decided that abbreviations are far better. For instance, saying 'Bob' takes much too long. You've shortened it to 'Bah'. And Pep is now 'Peh'. Buzz Lightyear is 'Buh'. Door is 'doh' [side note - 'door' was your first non-Momma-non-Dadda-word-that-you-said-unprompted word]. Cookie is 'cook cook'. Mickey Mouse is 'Meh Mow' [rhymes with 'now', not 'oh']. Your belly button is 'buh bo'. You seem awfully proud of your ability to shorten the English language. I'm sure the folks over at Oxford and Cambridge (if they ever lost their collective minds and started reading my ramblings) would likely choke on their bow ties.

It's funny how a kid born into a family with mainly pink and/or flowery and/or glittery and/or princessy toys turns out to be a Truck Boy, but you are. You sooooo are. You love trucks to the point that you're probably going to get laryngitis from making so many truck noises. You make anything a truck - a bristle block, your sippy cup, a piece of broccoli [you're certainly not going to eat it, so why WOULDN'T you use broccoli as a truck?]. Not to mention that you have a cement mixer in your crib and a front end loader beside your carseat.

Changing your diaper has become a feat of epic proportions. It is a feat for which I am not equipped. I need at least three more arms to properly change you. You flail, you holler, you twist, you lock your legs. I expect you to turn green and rip off your shirt. Then as soon as the diaper change is over, you turn back into my impossibly sweet, impossibly rascally, pasty-pale little Bear. As with practically every recap since you were three months, I blame your lack of tooth growth. Teething causes you to have some pretty funky diapers, usually in rapid succession. So I get it. I really do. Now get a move on with that tooth growin' business. MERCY.

One of your favorite games is to say my name in silly voices and get me to reply back with your name in the same silly voice. I didn't know there were that many ways to say 'Momma', but now I do. Your gravelly voice is funny, your high-pitched voice is adorable, your silly voice keeps me in stitches. Much like your sister, you'll do anything for a laugh. And much like your sister, I see myself in five years, sitting in the principal's office, trying to keep a straight face as the he/she tells me that my child (ie: you) is a bright child although a constant source of disruption (ie: class clown) for the other students. I'll do my best to put on my Disapproving Face, but inside I'll totally be wearing my What Can I Say, His Daddy and I Breed Knuckleheads? Face.

You still like playing with Natalie's dollhouse. You particularly like making Natalie's Little People princesses take a nap in Dora's bed. You grab one of the dolls and try to smush her in a bed. And then yell because you don't understand why plastic doesn't smush. The doll rolls right off the bed and you yell "NO NO! NIGHT-NIGHT!" as you point accusingly to the disobedient doll and try to smush her in the bed again. I realize that there's no way to effectively explain that the princess's dress is keeping her from being able to lay down properly so I just try to redirect you to a different, flat-backed doll who will, in fact, lay down and properly go night-night. You reject my flat-backed doll and instead choose a Weeble. Need I go on in describing the madness that ensues? I know it's bad if Natalie steps in and is all "Charlie, seriously. Weebles WOBBLE. They don't fall DOWN. This will NEVER work. Just pick another DOLL. UGH!!!!". Then she stomps off all teenager-esque and you and I are left looking at each other like "Dude, she's YOUR sister" and "Dude, she's YOUR daughter".

Hmm, what's left, what's left? Oh yes, this. YOU ARE STILL A TERRIBLE EATER AND YOU DRIVE ME CRAZY WITH YOUR NON-EATING. I COOK GOOD HEALTHY FOOD. NOW EAT SOMETHING THAT'S NOT BEIGE BEFORE MY BRAIN FALLS OUT. I apologize for yelling. NOT REALLY.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for August 9, 2013:

• Is she or isn't she? Panda sparks another UK baby watch
• Suspect hunted in teen's kidnapping may have homemade explosives, police say
• Powerball winner: 'I don't want to work' ever again
• Spain to Review Train Speeds After Deadly Crash
• Why Drug Tests Can't Catch Doping Athletes

July 2013

You sweet little muffin,
You still love to make up songs. You often come into the room and announce that you have a new song to sing us. But first you want to hum the tune for us. It goes a little something like this: "Hey guys, GUESS WHAT!  I have a new SONG!!! First I'll hum the tune for you. Here it goes. Mmm mmm mmmm mmm mmmmm mmm mmm mmmmmm mmmm. Now I'll sing the words: Thank you, Jesus, for the world You made and for all the Earth that You gave us and help us not to be mean to our family and teach us to share our toys and eat healthy food and my dress is purple and I like peaches." You are the master of random song lyrics.

You've suddenly learned to color in the lines! And, like much of your other milestones, there was never really any 'in-between stage'. It was like one day you were scribbling and very next day you colored in the lines. And I have to hand it to you, you're really good! You take a lot of creative licensing with your colors, however. Like, you feel Minnie Mouse should have pink ears. And purple hands. And Elmo should be blue. And Cinderella should have one arm purple, one brown arm, one yellow leg and one green leg. And why the heck not, right?

There's a sunroom in our new house in Marianna and we've turned it into a playroom. It's AWESOME. We've set up a little craft corner for you with a table, some chairs, and a 4' tall craft organizer. You are in HEAVEN. In the month we've lived here, you've made approximately 384 puppets (complete with popsicle stick handles), an entire ream's worth of notes and drawings (your specialties are playground scenes and Mike and Sulley from Monster's, Inc). You spend Quiet Time in the playroom surrounded by glue sticks, scissors, stickers, paper, crayons, markers, pipe cleaners, and yarn.  It does my heart good to listen to you hum your comforting little tune (a five-note diddy that you sing/hum over and over while you craft - it's as comforting to you as your teddy bear is at bedtime). And it does my heart even more good to see both you and Charlie playing in the playroom. Sometimes you play together (and I hear the Hallelujah Chorus), but mostly you two do your own thing. You craft and Charlie bounces between rolling his trucks across the floor, reading, and wreaking havoc on Dora and the gang in your dollhouse.

You like to write books for people. What prompted this was my leaving on a girls' trip. Bob and Pep were going to come help Daddy wrangle you and Charlie while I went on a girls' trip with some dear friends from high school, and you wanted to have some special crafts ready for Bob for when she arrived at our house. Side note - you thought it was HILARIOUS that Bob and Pep were coming for a sleepover.  And that they were bringing jammies (Bob even bought special rubber duckie jammie bottoms for the occasion!). In your mind, I guess, only your family wore jammies.  And it never occurred to you that other people did, too. Anywho, you started writing books for Bob. The pages were filled with pictures of Bob's favorite things and favorite people. It was really precious. When I told you I was going on a trip to see my friends from high school, and that Manda (one of your most favorite people ever) was picking me up from the airport, you screeched "I HAVE TO MAKE A BOOK FOR MANDA!" Your first book was titled "All About Manda". I was excited to see what you had come up with, especially since you  hadn't asked me any questions about what Manda liked. Here's what the book was:
Page 1: picture of Manda
Page 2: picture of John (Manda's husband)
Pages 3-5: pictures of friends from your preschool
Page 6: the word Good and the word Bad with a line through it
The End
Yep. It was all about Manda, that's for sure. You wrote another book for Manda and completely redeemed yourself. The book was absolutely precious - and you even stuck in a few pages that read "How do you like my book?" and "This is a very good book." Subtle, kid.

You are growing up into such a neat kid. I'm proud of the non-Stepford girl you are. You're quirky, you're silly, you're clever, you hum in an odd manner to calm yourself, you're a worrier, you're overly sensitive to loud noises - and you're slowly learning to be all those things, to find your own way to be all those things, in a socially acceptable way. You're becoming more and more independent and more patient with problem solving right before my very eyes. More than once, you've gotten really overwhelmed and come up to me with big ol' fat tears in your eyes and said "Momma, will you pray for me?" Daddy and I will always ALWAYS pray for you and Charlie Bear. It is one of our highest honors and greatest delights.  And on some days, it is the one thing that stands between us and selling you two knuckleheads to the circus.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for August 1, 2013:

• Cleveland kidnap survivor visits to thank neighbors
• Officials: Texas 'running out' of execution drug
• Singing 'Happy Birthday' makes the cake taste better
• 4-year-old boy is re-elected mayor of tiny town in northern Minnesota
• NYC residents using fake 'service dog' tags to take pets everywhere
• Oh baby! Mother gives birth to 13-pound girl in Germany 

June 2013 and Month 19 - Recap

Here's how this month went:

I packed boxes. You watched too much TV.  I packed more boxes. You played a lot with Bob and Pep. I cleaned. You two watched Monsters, Inc and Despicable Me no fewer than 57 times. I daydreamed about having my own personal Minions to pack the house for me. You ate too much food out of boxes and bags (and consequently, Charlie ate more food this month than he's ever eaten in his entire life). I pretty much win Most Negligent Mom of the Month. It's not a title of which I'm proud. But our old house got empty and our new house got filled. And nobody got committed to the loony bin. The end.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for July 1 and 9, 2013:

• Something happened
• Something else happened
• Something good happened 
• Something bad happened
• Something political happened