Do the Recycling First

Sometimes I wonder where the rational part of my brain goes.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe God intended for mommies to lose most of their rational brain because then they attempt things that always-rational daddies wouldn't.

Like when our suburban needed to be washed after the apocalyptic rain we had last week that turned our normally just-fine gravel road into some sort of mudding nightmare. The recycling also had to go as did the stack of children's library books.  And the poor dog, who simply must have more socialization in her early life if she is to be tolerable in her adult life, was hoisted into the back of the vehicle. I thought a quick trip to town with us would be good for her, hearing the sounds of the car wash (she has a weird thing for new sounds and already shows protective tendencies towards me) - which she's done before - looking out the windows and such.

When I missed the turn for the recycling, I made a decision I would later regret.

I would simply wash the car first.

This would work out just fine, my brain told me, giving the SUV time to dry off in town before venturing back down our gravel road.

I pulled into the car wash, collected my huge pile of quarters, assisted the kids to climb into the back of the suburban to play with the dog (we've done this before and it's always worked out great), and set out to power wash layers of dried mud and gravel off my white vehicle.

Only shorty after getting started, I could hear Ava's cries over the sound of the intense spraying of water. I release the trigger, open the door and inquired what the tears are about.

"Jack is spilling the recycling," came a horrified reply from a red-faced, tear-strained, sun-bleached-white-haired little girl in a pink dress.

Why didn't I just do the recycling first?

"It's okay honey. We'll clean it up. Can you just pet Belle while I finish washing the car?"

The time is ticking on the clock and I've still got a long ways to go on getting the car clean.  But Ava just wouldn't calm down, and I decided Jack could stand in a corner and watch me wash the car.

Silly me. Did you read those words?  Jack stand in a corner. Really, where did my brain go?

Instead, Jack ran around the car in his hand-me-down crocs, and I was certain he would slip on the suds, but that's the one thing that didn't happen. He picked up suds off the floor and smeared them on the car right after I had rinsed everything.  Somehow, I managed to finish washing the SUV with quarters remaining and decided to quick dry off the vehicle before heading out. The wind and dust would make this all a pointless endeavor unless we got some of the water off.

I knew Ava wanted to help dry the car, so I opened the back of the suburban to let her out. She's really such a dear, and by this time has cleaned up almost all of the recycling, putting everything but 2 large glass jars back into the bags. Those 2 glass jars found themselves right by the back door and came crashing down to the cement ground.

I stood there for a few milliseconds wondering why I even bother and why I didn't do the recycling first. But that was a few milliseconds too long, because it was just enough time for Belle to jump out and start running around the parking lot of this busy, smack-dab-in-the-middle-of-town gas station.

By this point, a small part of me had an out-of-body experience, hovering above this whole scene laughing hysterically as the rest of me lifted Ava out of the vehicle, told the kids to "STAND RIGHT THERE!" and ran after the dog who was barking at a few perplexed pedestrians.

Belle won't come to me right away if she knows I'm mad, so I assumed my "I really do love you, you stupid dog, and I want to pet you right now" posture. In my best "I'm your master/I'm the Alpha dog/I mean business" voice (which is totally different from my "you just ruined another one of my plants" voice), I called Belle, and by some miracle, she actually came. Maybe she was just scared of all this newness; maybe those few minutes of training on "Come" actually worked; maybe Belle has guardian angels. Either way, she got just close enough for me to grab her collar and lift her up, all 40 pounds of her mostly legs and ears body, and get her back into the vehicle.

Jack-Hammer, who apparently has never seen broken glass before, had by this time found the larger pieces of broken glass and was throwing them against the cement ground, watching them shatter. I gave him a brief lesson on broken glass handling and picked up as many of the pieces as I could.

Finally, we left the car wash, everyone safely buckled in, nearly all of the recycling collected, and this momma feeling slightly frazzled.

The rest of the trip is all a blur. We went in search of the recycling, which really isn't that hard to find, but I drove by it twice and never would have seen it unless Jack pointed it out. We also had to circle through the labyrinth of one-way streets around the library twice because I forgot to drop off the books the first time.  And I left a pile of quarters at the car wash.

Lesson learned: Do the recycling first.