My husband got a new car. A nice one. Yesterday I took it out for a drive. It was so nice to drive a sports car that isn’t a minivan full of donut crumbs and extracurricular shit like Irish dance shoes, smelly socks, recorders, hockey sticks, underpants, moldy towels, crayons that got nuked into the floor mats by the sun, and a single fossilized McDonald’s fry that’s been wedged between the seats since Ella was two.
I cranked up Mother’s Little Helper by the Stones. I stepped on the gas, and that car flew. My hair was blowing around like I imagine Cindy Crawford’s hair does in photo shoots.
I was suddenly sexy.
In the rearview mirror I caught a glimpse of the prehistoric version of myself – pre-kids, the one who blasted rock (not Theme Song from Wild Kratts, not Zaboomafoo) on her car stereo. The cool version of myself – the one who drove fast, hair blowing. The clear-thinking, smarter version who had the time to finish a sentence, to pee with dignity and in private, who had the luxury of following a thought through to its natural conclusion without interruption.
I miss her.
I went to the car wash and had the car washed just because. Afterward I opened up the sun roof and sunshine flooded into that car, for a moment I was that long-lost girl. It felt good. There’s nothing like a new car with Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Ronnie Wood and Charlie Watts sitting in your leather seats and a turbo-charge button to make you think – for a brief period – that you are not a minivan-driving SAHM wearing yesterday’s t-shirt, Target capris, and Hallmark flip flops. You are Cindy Crawford in the 80′s on that Diet Pepsi commercial.
You are wearing Daisy Dukes.
You are a luxe-car driving hottie.
Everybody – including the Rolling Stones – is gape-mouthed at your fabulousness.
I flitted over to Starbucks. An uber-fashionable woman who normally wouldn’t say boo to me if I had my usual accessories (kids and a minivan) stopped to ogle the car. She stopped in her tracks and looked at me as if I mattered and said: “That is a gorgeous car.”
Me: “It’s my husband’s.” (Why couldn’t I just shut up and pretend it was mine?)
Her: ”I don’t know your husband – but he’s my kind of man.”
I sped off into the sunshine feeling fortified, like I had gotten some of my old power back: I was Cindy Crawford! The sunroof was open! My fabulousness was showing!
When I got home I switched back into Mommy mode to entertain a good friend and her kids at our house. After they left, we marvelled at a huge downpour – it was a truly awesome storm that must’ve dumped 3 or 4 inches of rainfall on us within a matter of minutes. Then at 4 in the morning we were awakened by an even more powerful downpour.
In the morning I got up, secretly pleased with myself that I was being a thoughtful wife – the kind of wife who gets the car washed for her husband, even though it had rained afterward. At least the inside was clean.
My husband went out to his car to get something and returned.
He said, “Go look at my car.”
My imaginary 80′s hair stopped blowing.
Mother’s Little Helper came to a screeching, unfabulous halt.
I’d left the sunroof open.
I had been so distracted by my blowy hair and Keith Richard’s guitar riffs that I hadn’t given the sunroof another thought until the moment I saw my husband’s face, which tends to turn a bluish-pea-green when he gets upset. My poor man looked like he was going to pass out from the exhaustion of being married to me.
Mick, Keith, Charlie and the boys looking at me from the backseat like I have betrayed them. Look how pissed off Mick is.
He has to turn the bluish-pea-green color several times a year because unlike Cindy Crawford, who is perfect, I do this type of thing a lot. I’m pretty sure it’s because I was raised by alcoholics, which is similar to being raised by wolves, so I really struggle with thinking the way a normal person would, i.e.:
It’s raining —> close the sunroof.
or even:
If you open the sunroof -–> close it, asshole.
One day we had a new bed, mattress, and down comforter delivered and the very same day I left the humungous sky light that was directly over our bed wide open. A freakish, torrential downpour completely saturated the bed and the bedding, because I had forgotten to close the sky light (you’d think I would have learned my lesson, but no.)
Another time we rushed to catch a flight and we had gotten all the way to the airport before I realized I’d forgotten my purse with our passports in it. We missed the flight and had to wait in the airport…for ten hours.
Before I even met my husband, he had to bail me out of airport jail at Heathrow. I got put there because I forgot to bring my work visa, and so my future boss who would become my future exhausted husband – had to bail me out before he even met me.
Another time he said, “Please don’t forget I parked right behind you so DO NOT back your car out of the garage, ok? DO NOT.”
I flicked my eyes at him – what an ass, did he think I was some kind of idiot? I was so annoyed that I probably backed out of the garage a little too fast and in less than 60 seconds of him saying “DO. NOT” I’d smashed my BMW into his BMW. (I know what you’re saying: Die Yuppie Scum, you both deserved it, blah-blah-blah, but we were both working back then and we were kidless yuppies, and maybe I deserved it but my husband didn’t.)
I’ve lost our house keys, locked us out of the house repeatedly, left the headlights on in the car in long-term airport parking so the car wouldn’t start upon our return from a long trip. I get parking tickets, forget to pay bills, frequently space out, often leave things growing in the fridge, and even though I’m constantly doing laundry no one ever has any clean underpants. Basically, I’m the type of person who would jump into a swimming pool in a lightning storm without thinking.
My husband is the type who would jump in to save me…only he’d be the one to get fricaseed by a bolt of lightening, and I’d be fine. That’s the way it is between us.
I’ve tried to drive him off with this kind of drama too many times to count. And now his new car stinks like wet dog and yet…he hugged me this morning, just because. They say real love begins when the honeymoon phase ends and gets replaced with reality, and all the things you fell in love with are the very things that bug the crap out of you. Real love begins when you behave as if you love the person even if they do things, abominable things like leave the sun roof on your brand new car open before a downpour, that really bug the crap out of you. That’s real love.
So I tweeted about leaving the sunroof open and ruining not only the leather seats but, gulp, the electrical system. Also, my glasses fog up now when I sit in the car because it’s like the Amazon Rainforest in there.
I tweeted: I need a new swear word, for this.
My friend Alison from Mama Wants This tweeted back: What about just plain old f*ck?
Me: It isn’t terrible enough.
Alison: F*ckity F*ck, then.
And there you have it: My word of the day: F*ckity-F*ck, courtesy of Alison. (-:
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Well, there’s a nice surprise, to see my eloquent words in your post.
Not so much your husband’s Jaguar. He is a good man. With the hug and all.
I’ve left headlights on in a car too. I’ve also forgotten stuff before a flight, and had the cab driver turn back THREE times. Once I accidentally locked one of the cats in the bedroom for a few hours and he returned the favor by shitting on the bed. The cat, not my husband. I’ve also ruined many good shirts of his.
Thank goodness we have good husbands, eh?
Your friend,
Also-Not-Cindy-Crawford
See? Alison is always there to help us out!
This post is hilarious! Not that your husband’s car smells like wet dog now, but the little mishaps. Maybe because these are all things I could see myself doing. Glad to know there are 2 of us in this world!
Three!
What a tale! It is so nice to remember the days before kids isn’t it. I loved your line: “…who had the luxury of following a thought to its natural conclusion without interruption.” My favorite pre-kids was having the ability to retain a thought from one room to another with out losing it.
You certainly are the master of shit that just doesn’t happen to other people and shit you just can’t make up! Even with all of those mishaps (lets call them that) hearing your humors look back at it (I am certain it was not humorous in the moment) and you husbands endearing love for who you are brings a smile to my face. My husband would have been through the f*ckity f*ck roof mad at me! -Laverne
Okay…I do things like this and I don’t have children yet. Should I be concerned? Should I spare my husband/the world now and just have my tubes tied?
This was such a funny post! Thank you for sharing it. I have done similar things, but to be honest, I think my incidents mostly occurred during pregnancy. It’s a fabulous excuse!
Ack! You’re my husband.
And I can say, from the other side of things, that your husband really, really loves you!
Funny post, girl. I said, “Daaaaaamn” at least twice. Out loud. In front of the kids.
Whoops.
At least you didn’t say “F*ckity-f*ck”!
OMG, you didn’t just do that!!! Hahahahaha. I know I’m not supposed to be laughing, but boy oh boy, you really f*ckity f*ucked it real bad this time, girl! And I’m sorry I had to laugh even louder when you said, “Basically, I’m the type of person who would jump into a swimming pool in a lightning storm… My husband would jump in to save me… only he’d be the one to get fricaseed by a bolt of lightening, and I’d be fine.” You’re one hell of a lucky b*atch, you know that, don’t cha? LOL
But seriously, what a darling of a husband you got there! Yes, THAT is real love! And that’s what you should teach both of your daughters… never settle for a man who’s any less than their wonderful dad!
What a perfect post for Father’s Day, Ado. And here’s a toast… to your husband’s safety LOL
))
That was SO funny I almost peed….
Ado, I am cracking up and praying for you at the same time! It’s the Gemini in me, which is why this is a heart-breaking and heart-warming post. There’s gotta be something about your husband you put up with that is somehow the equivalent of what he deals with…there’s just gotta be! And if not, maybe we should introduce HIM to “f*ckity f*uck…he needs it more!
Christine – how did you guess?? Now…I’d reply, but there’s a whole post involved in that one. Coming soon…!
This one had me rolling! I love your blog! You are an amazing writer! And I can totally relate to these kinds of instances.
So glad Annie – thanks! (-:
PS: If I could Irish dance as fast as your feet can I’d probably trade my writing for your dancing so we’re even then. (-:
F*ckity F*ck! That is going to be my new favorite expression! That was a seriously funny post! Having done the leaving of the sunroof open trick myself, I know how you feel, except mine was just on my volkswagen jetta, but it DID ruin my leather seats. Thank God for insurance coverage! I called my insurance company and confessed my sin and they fixed it…just like that!
That was GREAT…YES…I have day’s like that too…Riding in my husbands 370Z singing…music blasting…wishing for the carefree days….After 7 kids and married 26 years….I need to live in a fantasy land every now and then…..Thanks for the great story…..Your gifted..
Oh and my new words are ..no surprise F*ckity F*uk
I’m always forgetting things – leaving the kids’ trikes in the part of the garage where my husband parks so he nearly runs them over, not remembering and then doing the thing he’d just reminded me not to… So glad I’m not the only one.
well, f**kity f**k is technically TWO words, not one, so you’re covered for two days with that great phrase. My alcoholic grandfather had a lovely phrase for things like this but b/c this is a family blog, I can’t write it here – and you know? Leather seats are nice, but feeling like Cindy Crawford for hte day? That’s GREAT. In a few years those seats would be wrecked anyway, right? Maybe you could drop a few french fries in there too, just to sort of even the playing field. The only reason Cindy doesn’t do things like that is she has a fleet of minions walking around doing all that mundane crap for her. If you had minions, you’d be golden.
Cindy Crawford is Perfect and I’m Not http://t.co/XNGRFKQl via @sharethis
I obviously am so, so sorry about the car (and the bed and the passports and the holding cells… haha), but boy oh boy, can you tell a story.
This had me laughing and gasping and the whole 9. It was a great read.
Well thank you Dawn – that almost made up for all the damage I’ve done. (-:
I do crap like this, too, and my husband always says the same thing. “You are why we can’t have nice things.” That’s pretty bad, considering we have 5 kids. Great story-telling!
I’m good for doing stuff like this all the time too. I feel your pain and I love your word for it!
I was driving the minivan and my wife had the Lexus 430 SC. Apparently I had things backwards. But then again, that’s why I call it Kellie’s World.
Oh no! Oh no! I’m so sorry about the car (and your lost moment of freedom), but — what a good man!
Hehehe your poor hubby. His job does sound quite exhausting…
This is sooo me… we are soulmates. I actually paid off my husband’s car the other day, and I was so excited and proud.. until I backed into another car not fifteen minutes later. These things HAPPEN to us, they aren’t our fault
)))
Soul sistah!
Great story! He’s a keeper!
You make me laugh. I mean, really laugh. This is horrible. Funny, but horrible.
The other morning I was just in a foul mood and I was extra mean to my husband for no reason at all. He retreated upstairs for awhile, quietly came into the kitchen and asked me if I was all done being mean and was it possible to be in the same room as me. He gave me a hug, even though I did not deserve it and went to work. My point is – the undeserved hug might be one of the nicest things those husbands do.
That is really sweet. Yours is a keeper and mine too.
Oh no! My husband and your husband could swap stories. I’m sure if it! He was mad at me the other day b/c he beat me home after work, the front door was wide open. Not unlocked-WIDE open. Sure, come on in, Mr. Burglar. Ya know why we can’t keep track of insignificant stuff like doors and sunroofs? Because we’ve got these kids. Ya know the little people that live here that need food and water to survive. Those people? So, sorry about the front door, but nothing was stolen.
I forgot to tell my stories of the wide-open front door. The having kids thing – well in my case I have always been like this. Kids have just made me worse – more forgetful and panicked to get to the next destination…!
Eeks! My husband is so terrified I will do something like this to his new car, that I am not allowed to touch it!
Usually, he’s the one to do something of this nature, but last weekend I guess it was my turn… F*ckity-F*ck.
F*ckity-F*ck, we speak the same language!
Oh no. That is true love indeed. I have an exhausted husband too. Poor exhausted husbands. I really love the F*ckity F*ck. I think that sums it all up quite nicely.
Yes a new and useful swear word, courtesy of Alison. (-:
Well, you’re welcome, everyone.
You’ve coined a popular new term! (-:
ROTF…LMAO!!! Your husband is a Saint! I could so relate to the pool and lightning thing only replace pool with golf. So tell me…do you find it hard walking around with horseshoes up you a**??? Trust me…it gets easier. =D
(-:
Cindy Crawford is Perfect and I’m Not http://t.co/5ereM9xZ by @adothemomalog <== A #MustRead if you’re having a bad day!
Thanks for the RT! (-:
This made me cringe and crack up at the same time. I love your blog and how relatable it is. Great stuff.
Thanks very much Simon. The forgetful dork in me feels so accepted now.
And I had just sworn off cursing because eventually my 4 month old will talk and I have a fear of what that first word might be. But saying f*ckity-f*ck is just too exquisite to bear. I must use it. Continuously.
And is it wrong of me to feel a little better about my dorky self because I’ve never left the sun roof or sun light open? Nevermind the fact that we have neither. It’s one mistake I’ve not yet committed!
Bless your Pepsi-drinking heart. And bless your husband’s too!
Thanks Kenja! And I am in AWE of you that you haven’t left the sunroof/skylight open…YET! (-:
Ditto that! RT @jessbedsole: I choked on my tea while I read this, absolutely HYSTERICAL. I love it. http://t.co/Pl42mtTV via @adothemomalog
I’m so glad I made you choke! (-:
I’m not sure what the like-minded soul count is at this point, but please add me to the list. I have scraped the my Honda Pilot on the side of the garage so many times that I no longer allow myself to use “Pilot” and “garage” in the same sentence. I certainly don’t attempt to park in there anymore.
Oh, and how about leaving the fridge open and then leaving the house? Yep. Over and over. One time I did it before a weeklong vacation. We won’t even talk about what I found waiting inside when we returned.
Anyway, you are so, so, so not along. Great post. Thanks for making me laugh!
Hi Kathleen —> thanks for reminding me that I also have left the STOVE on when leaving the house and have had to return (speedily) more than once in case of fire. Eeks.
Nice to know I’m not the only imperfect one out there. @AdoTheMomalog “Cindy Crawford is Perfect and I’m Not” http://t.co/hfbzSTBV
Thanks for the RT. (-:
So funny/sad/true! Shall I psychoanalyze you (us)? Having been raised by people we didn’t trust to love us (my dad had an unpredictable temper), we unintentionally keep testing our husbands. We just know that someday we’ll find the thing that makes them stop loving us. And yet, they’re still here. Lucky us.
Wow Cynthia – do you know how much I paid to get that bit of wisdom in therapy? I’ll send you a check! (-:
So if Ella’s not going to eat that French fry…
Hahaha! It’s yours.
Oh Hell Yes: Cindy Crawford is Perfect and I’m Not http://t.co/hbgdvRXW via @sharethis @AdoTheMomalog
Thanks for the RT!
So true, so true, so true. But I still love fantasies!!! Funny, honest post, laced with laughter and poignancy! When it comes down to the bottom line, though, I know that Cindy Crawford isn’t real (her public persona, at least), and I am real (the public and private persona). I can’t find a price tag for that!!! ♥
Thanks for that comment – I’m Velveteen, too. And I do know that Cindy Crawford isn’t really perfect – but she comes close in that Diet Pepsi commercial!
Funny, funny post! The only thing I’d add after the #uckity-@uck, would be muckity-muck!!
Janet, you poet!
This is something I would do if I ever had a car with a sunroof. I’ve left my car window down so many times there is a permanent towel in there. Sometimes, I don’t even get the towel removed and it rains on the towel.
You are one of us!
You could be my twin. And your husband could be my husband’s. I am FOREVER breaking, smashing, dropping, leaving open, closing and cracking things and he keeps on fixing and loving me.
These husbands probably need to form a support group…!
Such a great pic of the early stones! I think I’m going to listen to some old vinyl record inspired by the pic you’ve posted.
I love me some Stones.
OMG, I was dying reading this. Great set up and great finish. I want a sports car.
Well, how about a sports-car terrarium?
In love with this post, of course. I am also in love with the fact that you are in love with the Rolling Stones as much as I am. I am also in love with the new swear word. I’m also in love with my Cindy Crawford-like mole, however, I’m not in love with the stubborn ass black hair that likes to pop out of that SOB every 6 weeks. Cindy doesn’t have that problem. I am sure of it.
I bet she has tweezers in her glove compartment because the best lighting happens in the rear-view mirror and – a mole is a mole. Supermodel or not!
Hilarious! My husband gets annoyed with me because I’m hyper critical and kind of an asshole to him. He’d kill for your absentmindedness.
Oh no! So awful, but so hilarious. LOVE the Amazon rain forest line.
Oh, oh, oh, that just makes me laugh and feel tired all at the same time! That poor car!
I came home to a wide open front door once, too – but I’m not as nice as you; I blamed the kid, as it was obviously the five year old who should have closed the door, not the 45 year old mother (whose hands were no doubt full of coffee and bananas and keys and sweaters and who knows what all…
In my experience, Irish people use the “F” word a lot, and their kids don’t seem to suffer for it. Wish we could be freer about it here, but the one time I used it in front of my father he asked me “Do you know what that MEANS?” Um, well, yes, dad… Never mind!
They do use the F-word a lot but a lighter version of it: feck/fecking, which doesn’t make it seem as bad.
Soooo funny, thanks for your comment.
PS: I blame the kids too.
Oh my I have done so many similar ditsy things more times than I can remember we have stood in the supermarket with a full trolley rung up and I have then realised that my purse is in the other bag. We drive home and realise we cannot get in because I left the house keys at the office.
Yup. That about sums it all up at my house, too.
Cindy Crawford is Perfect and I’m Not http://t.co/Suy43ZCG via @sharethis
As soon as he started back in the house, it hit me what was coming. And I thought, Oh NO. The damn sunroof. And the rain. That would totally happen to me. And my hubby, like yours, would be so nice about it. Sadly, if the same exact thing happened in reverse I would be a stark, raving shrew. Thank God he loves me in spite of myself. Love this post.
Oh I didn’t even think of that – what would happen if the shoe was on the other foot and it was my donut-crumb-infested minivan and he’d left the sunroof open? You know what – I probably wouldn’t even notice! (-:
This could totally happen to me. http://t.co/2bCn5rSI @AdoTheMomalog My hubby would be nice, too. #yeahwrite61
Man, I always wanted to buy some more hair and be like Cindy Crawford too. I love how you totally own all the things you’ve messed up. I think I’d like to see a response post from your husband, though
Oh my – don’t toy with his man-ego!
What a great idea for a post. I will ask him. (-: Thanks for the suggestion, but somehow I know I will live to regret it!
This is why we can’t have nice things. http://t.co/lr6YQuV9 @AdoTheMomalog
Wow, I can’t even imagine what I would have done if that was my new car. You obviously are married to a patient guy. Wow.
I think it’s time for you to stir up another list where you compare the differences between your hubby & you!
Cindy Crawford is overrated anyway, she drinks Pepsi. We all know Coke is the cool one!
I never really thought about it before but now that I think of it you’re right, Diet Coke is much better than Pepsi. So I’m cooler and so are you! (-:
Cindy Crawford is Perfect and I’m Not http://t.co/NejrklM8 via @sharethis – so glad hubs car is in the garage and doesn’t have a sunroof!;)
I bet for his next car my husband won’t get the sunroof option either. (-:
I so love this post!!!! “@m3lbblog: Sweet @Adothemomalog has gotten herself into trouble again. I can so relate. http://t.co/1NUvEbpp”
Just goes to show how much he cares – that he finds endearing everything you claim to be “exhausting”. It gives a single gal hope.
My husband is an “import” – I got him in Ireland. Maybe go to Ireland on your next trip and you can get one, too.
(-:
I laughed out loud reading this one. Last year my friend had a similar mishap. On Facebook, she wondered why Hallmark doesn’t make a card that says, “Dear Husband, I’m sorry I backed one of our cars out of the garage and hit our other car.” I do these kinds of things so often that it’s actually kind of expected. My husband calls me “abstract random”, which is the type of personality completely opposite his type, which is the type that never drives off with his wallet on the roof of his car or leaves his bank card at the grocery store. My husband asks me what I’m thinking about when I should be thinking about not hitting the rearview mirror on the garage door opening, where I put my keys, etc. Blogging, of course. Duh.
Totally get it. My poor hubs. “@m3lbblog: Sweet @Adothemomalog has gotten herself into trouble again. I can so relate. http://t.co/fVw5JxY7”
Hey, if he had to bail you out of airport jail before he knew you, it seems he should have realized it would lead to his car smelling like the Amazon. Just sayin’.
But really this is a really sweet ode to love and marriage (and maybe a bit of a confessional too). You are hereby absolved. Ellen
Amen, Ellen. Amen! (-:
I may not be as forgetful, but I am a big believer in cranking up the music in a kids-free car! http://t.co/RggpuSJ3 via @sharethis
I would write a long response to this post but I am too exhausted draining the water out of my car
and there isn’t even any Pepsi in the refrigerator … where is Cindy when you need her.
Cindy Crawford is really beautiful.I love her car. For me, everyone is not perfect. Indeed, everyone is unique. There are just individuals that are more gifted than other people.
Seriously, you are putting this post as a chapter in your book right!?!? I am laughing with tears in my eyes and nodding my head saying yes, I get it. I think this all leads to a great Father’s Day gift
I was so completely psyched for your Cindy Crawford moment! I have to say, if this were not your real life, it would have made a great sitcom episode. I hope the car dries out soon…let’s hear it for understanding husbands!
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Well, your husband needs to get over a lot, too! I think you’re just fine the way you are!!
I LOOOOOLED really loud with this post. You never disappoint with your post. Your husband must be really proud
I so enjoyed this post and couldn’t believe how much I related to it! My husband recently got a sporty new car and I love getting the chance to leave behind my garbage can on wheels (full of petrified cheerios and goldfish crackers from 2007) and take off in his ride. I’m a Stones fanatic, so their music always comes with me and it reminds me of the girl I used to be. Thanks for making me laugh and reminding me I’m not the only mom trying to recapture a little of her inner fine young chick!