It's not rocket science...

so why can't I get this stuff done without freaking out. Today, I pull up to my favorite full serve gas station in North Attleboro. You pull straight into one of three pumps. The furthest pump has just been occupied by a giant Escalade and the back pump has been started on a Corolla and I figure that will take all of second and I will pull straight up. Oh no. The car in the middle is finished and the attendent waves me on to pull in there. Oh geez! It's 9 am on a Saturday and I've got to parallel park my Canyonero inbetween these two cars without crushing anyone or crashing into the pricier of the two in front of me. After a few tense moments, I make it in and the gas is flowing. Haley pipes up from the backseat, "Carwash! I want to go to the carwash please!!!" Oh no. Not the carwash again. I've already made it through that horror once. "CARWASH! NOW!", screams Haley. "Okay, Okay, we'll go to the carwash." I collect my receipt and we pull around to the carwash.

The same kid who told me that neutral is the one with the 'N' is ready to start spraying down my truck. He motions to me to roll down my passenger window. "Ma'am," (Oh, with the fucking ma'am again. I guess he isn't fooled by my leggings/Uggs get up)"Would you please fold the mirrors in?" Oh shit. This didn't happen last time. Now what do I do. "Um, I don't know how to fold them in", I'm guessing they don't just get manually pushed since the kid is asking me to do it. "Oh, don't worry, my MOM has a car like this, I'll come around and help you." Oh great. This little shit is telling me I have a MOM CAR. Yes, I am a MOM, but I'm no minivan driver. Crap. He reaches in the driver's window and presses the appropriate button to fold in the mirrors. (Seriously, there are like 50 buttons on the door)

I pull forward, completely focused on the task at hand. The other attendent who is directing me to the automatic track thing. Neutral boy is shouting at me again, "Ma'am, ma'am! Don't forget to close your passenger window." Oy, that would have been cute. I roll up that window, pay for my wash and we're off. The car is in N and we're doing fine. Haley is having a blast. "I love the carwash!" she shouts. We are dumped back on the pavement, I press the same button and the mirrors extend back out. "Let's go to Chuck E. Cheese!", squeals Haley O.

"That's all the fun Mommy can handle today, Haley." I reply, exhausted by all the effort of not running people over, flooding the car, and snapping off what would be much more expensive than the $200 mirror I ruined on the 2004 Tahoe (yeah, ask me about that one).