Sigh.

Some things you need to know before reading this post:

Zion's favorite movie is "Cars." He calls it "Tires," as in, "Mommy, can I watch 'Tires' please?" (I have no idea why)

Almost 3 weeks ago, I started babysitting my ex-sister-in-law's two children, ages 7 months and 5 years (Danny and Brenden, respectively). I watch them Monday through Friday, 7:15am until 3:30pm.


Yesterday started our fairly normal. I had myself convinced when I woke up at 6am that it was going to be a good day - the power of positive thought compels you.

By 8:00, I had proven that theory completely wrong.

By 9:00, I had to change pants because Zion spilled Kool-aid all over them.

By 2:00, I had to change pants again because Danny pooped all the way up his back and outside of his diaper while he was sitting on my lap.

I was officially down to my last pair of pants, and we were out of laundry detergent.

Tuesday night = family night. I made green rice casserole and supremely yummy chicken for dinner, which we didn't get to eat because we had unexpected company until almost 7:45.

At 8:00, Zion decided he had had enough fun for one day, and it was time for bed. Off to watch Scooby Doo we went. So much for family night.

Today Brenden was at pre-school, so it was just Danny, Zion and me. Cristina joined us around noon. On our way from picking her up, the air conditioner went out on my car. It was a nice day out, so we rolled down the windows.

We came home and Zion peed on my leg. Yep - you read that right. He peed on my leg. Remember how I was down to my last pair of pants? Now I was down to none.

I found a pair of pre-Zion jeans that didn't even come close to zipping, but hey - we're just driving to Crown Center. I didn't really even have to get out of the car. Slipped the jeans on, left them unfastened, hopped into the car and left.

Five minutes onto the highway the "Check Engine" light came on.

I won't repeat the words that came out of my mouth because I'm a lady (HA!).

That's ok. Nothing was sputtering, so we could make it.

Got everyone dropped off, and I started talking to God. And my car. Explained to both of them that home wasn't very far away, and if they could just get me there, I'd be happy to pray and change my oil more frequently.

Apparently, that wasn't good enough for God or my car, because as I approached the backed-up traffic at 54th Street, I realized the car was dying. I turned off the highway and onto 52nd Street and ka-chunk. No more car.

Do you have a good picture of this? I'm now stuck at 57th and Prospect during rush hour with a naked kid and pants that don't fasten because I'm too fat to zip them up.

To my right is a nice group of gentlemen gathered outside a mechanic shop called "A Touch of Class." They were very pleasant, and allowed me to use their phone. They even pushed my car across Prospect so I wasn't blocking rush hour traffic anymore!

My father-in-law came to my rescue. As we were driving away, Zion was screaming, "GO GET MOMMY'S TIRES! NO! NO LEAVE MOMMY'S TIRES!" Really, really concerned about my car.

When Mike came home this is the conversation we had:

Mike: Where's your car?
Sara: 52nd and Prospect.
Mike: So I didn't hear that wrong. Woman, what in the HELL were you doing at 52nd and Prospect?!? There is NOTHING that you should be doing by way of 52nd and Prospect.
Sara: I thought I could make a couple extra bucks.
Mike: (silence)

Sara: No really, I realized on the highway that the car was going to die, so I got off at 52nd and Prospect. I didn't really have a choice in the matter.. it was that or break down on the highway.
Mike: Damned straight.

I've been grounded until Friday.