Trekking Onward
So yesterday was a doozy of a day. I jixed myself by writing in my journal early in the morning about how I excited I was to have an easy day, with nowhere to go and no piano lessons to teach!
At first things were going well. Both K and S were well enough to go to the gym, which made my morning. (S cried hysterically through most of my workout but hey, she'll get used to it again. Eventually.) But on the way back from the gym the check engine light came on. When I made it home I realized that 1) I was overdue on an oil change by about 4,000 miles and 2) I could smell something burning, probably oil.
We don't exactly have a plethora of oil change places out where we live so I decided to take the van over to Walmart after I picked up the older kids from school. We drove by only to find that the auto center was inexplicably closed in the middle of the day. Maybe too many mechanics called in sick and they had to close during lunch? After an agitated call to Terence I decided to take the van up to the next nearest Walmart, about 15 minutes further.
When we arrived at the next Walmart it was luckily open. But the guy informed that it would be a 90 minute wait for my car to get done. I gulped, especially since I had the beginnings of a stress headache, but at this point I was 40 minutes from home and still quite a drive from any other oil change places that I trusted with my car. (I barely trust Walmart but the other place by our house has an even worse reputation. That is saying something.) So I gritted my teeth and tackled an hour and a half in Walmart with five hungry, restless children. We ate Subway, which I couldn't really afford and it didn't really dent the kids' hunger, but it killed some time at least. Eventually, after three bathroom trips and numerous opportunities for me to get impatient with the kids, our van was finished.
Only the engine light was still on.
I started back home, had another agitated phone call with Terence, and stressed the whole way about that stupid "check engine" light. Those things can either mean nothing important or they can signal the imminent death of your vehicle. And I did NOT want to end up stranded on the side of the road somewhere with the kiddos. My headache was steadily growing stronger by the minute. We made it home just in time to see Terence off to work. Then my mother called and offered to help with the car, and we made the decision to race up to the mechanic's shop and get diagnostics run before they closed. I had to drop the kids off at my mom's and I just barely made it before they closed.
But wouldn't you just know it? About a mile from the mechanic the "check engine" light went off.
Now what? Did my van have a problem? Did it just need an hour and a half of running time after the oil change to decide it was fine? In the end I left it with the mechanic. They told me that they could check the history of the check engine codes first thing in the morning and find out if it was a problem or not.
Being without the van is a serious obstacle for me though. My mother offered their extended cab truck for me to borrow (though it would only fit five of us). My sister Amy took the older girls home with her from my mother's house, and my mom and I loaded up J, K & S and made the drive to Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix to pick up the truck. (My dad was out of town and the truck was sitting in the airport parking garage.)
In the parking garage, J had a panic attack. We were seven or eight levels up and he starting freaking out about the height. That surprised me-- J has some fears that will get him riled up (like thunderstorms) but this one was a new one for me. S was screaming because she was not used to being strapped into her carseat in a strange car, I guess. Only K was keeping it cool. In the midst of all this we got all three kids (and car seats) transferred to the truck. Now, my mom didn't want me to have to pay Dad's parking bill (since it's a company paid expense) so she took the truck's parking ticket and gave me the one to her car, which would show our time in the garage as just a few minutes.
Apparently, this is not OK. They must snap your license plate at some point when you take your ticket and track that info because when I gave my ticket to the attendant she got a message saying my ticket was invalid because it had been swapped. (My mom, mind you, paid her ticket at an automated station with no problem and had pulled through the pay stations already.) My attendant started freaking out and haranguing me-- she had a heavy accent and I wasn't following everything. At this point, I'm starting to freak out myself. I'm afraid I'm going to get arrested for ticket fraud or something. My imagination was running wild; for all I know, with all the crazy security rules, I had just committed some unusual felony.
In the end, it got straightened out. Amidst a fair amount of honking and swerving cars, the attendant left her booth to go talk to my mom (waiting ahead for me) and then called her supervisor. Turns out she was more worried about losing her job by being accused of charging both of us a full day fee when my ticket was only for 9 minutes. (If the ticket has been swapped they just charge you the amount your license plate says you owe. In which case, I don't know why they have tickets at all. Just run your plate and charge you off that, right? Since they're going to uber-tracking us anyway.) It was a big mess and did not help either my anxiety level or my headache.
Ugh.
Then I had to drive to my sister's house, cram the two girls in the front seat and make the rest of the trip home. We didn't make it home until after 8pm. A whole afternoon and evening running all over the valley.
The cream on top? My period started (a week early) AND my body decided to become extremely nauseous by the time I got home. What a day! And the adventure's not over yet. I'm still feeling sick this morning, the cramps are in full swing, and we still don't have the van back yet. Opposition in all things, I guess!
At first things were going well. Both K and S were well enough to go to the gym, which made my morning. (S cried hysterically through most of my workout but hey, she'll get used to it again. Eventually.) But on the way back from the gym the check engine light came on. When I made it home I realized that 1) I was overdue on an oil change by about 4,000 miles and 2) I could smell something burning, probably oil.
We don't exactly have a plethora of oil change places out where we live so I decided to take the van over to Walmart after I picked up the older kids from school. We drove by only to find that the auto center was inexplicably closed in the middle of the day. Maybe too many mechanics called in sick and they had to close during lunch? After an agitated call to Terence I decided to take the van up to the next nearest Walmart, about 15 minutes further.
When we arrived at the next Walmart it was luckily open. But the guy informed that it would be a 90 minute wait for my car to get done. I gulped, especially since I had the beginnings of a stress headache, but at this point I was 40 minutes from home and still quite a drive from any other oil change places that I trusted with my car. (I barely trust Walmart but the other place by our house has an even worse reputation. That is saying something.) So I gritted my teeth and tackled an hour and a half in Walmart with five hungry, restless children. We ate Subway, which I couldn't really afford and it didn't really dent the kids' hunger, but it killed some time at least. Eventually, after three bathroom trips and numerous opportunities for me to get impatient with the kids, our van was finished.
Only the engine light was still on.
I started back home, had another agitated phone call with Terence, and stressed the whole way about that stupid "check engine" light. Those things can either mean nothing important or they can signal the imminent death of your vehicle. And I did NOT want to end up stranded on the side of the road somewhere with the kiddos. My headache was steadily growing stronger by the minute. We made it home just in time to see Terence off to work. Then my mother called and offered to help with the car, and we made the decision to race up to the mechanic's shop and get diagnostics run before they closed. I had to drop the kids off at my mom's and I just barely made it before they closed.
But wouldn't you just know it? About a mile from the mechanic the "check engine" light went off.
Now what? Did my van have a problem? Did it just need an hour and a half of running time after the oil change to decide it was fine? In the end I left it with the mechanic. They told me that they could check the history of the check engine codes first thing in the morning and find out if it was a problem or not.
Being without the van is a serious obstacle for me though. My mother offered their extended cab truck for me to borrow (though it would only fit five of us). My sister Amy took the older girls home with her from my mother's house, and my mom and I loaded up J, K & S and made the drive to Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix to pick up the truck. (My dad was out of town and the truck was sitting in the airport parking garage.)
In the parking garage, J had a panic attack. We were seven or eight levels up and he starting freaking out about the height. That surprised me-- J has some fears that will get him riled up (like thunderstorms) but this one was a new one for me. S was screaming because she was not used to being strapped into her carseat in a strange car, I guess. Only K was keeping it cool. In the midst of all this we got all three kids (and car seats) transferred to the truck. Now, my mom didn't want me to have to pay Dad's parking bill (since it's a company paid expense) so she took the truck's parking ticket and gave me the one to her car, which would show our time in the garage as just a few minutes.
Apparently, this is not OK. They must snap your license plate at some point when you take your ticket and track that info because when I gave my ticket to the attendant she got a message saying my ticket was invalid because it had been swapped. (My mom, mind you, paid her ticket at an automated station with no problem and had pulled through the pay stations already.) My attendant started freaking out and haranguing me-- she had a heavy accent and I wasn't following everything. At this point, I'm starting to freak out myself. I'm afraid I'm going to get arrested for ticket fraud or something. My imagination was running wild; for all I know, with all the crazy security rules, I had just committed some unusual felony.
In the end, it got straightened out. Amidst a fair amount of honking and swerving cars, the attendant left her booth to go talk to my mom (waiting ahead for me) and then called her supervisor. Turns out she was more worried about losing her job by being accused of charging both of us a full day fee when my ticket was only for 9 minutes. (If the ticket has been swapped they just charge you the amount your license plate says you owe. In which case, I don't know why they have tickets at all. Just run your plate and charge you off that, right? Since they're going to uber-tracking us anyway.) It was a big mess and did not help either my anxiety level or my headache.
Ugh.
Then I had to drive to my sister's house, cram the two girls in the front seat and make the rest of the trip home. We didn't make it home until after 8pm. A whole afternoon and evening running all over the valley.
The cream on top? My period started (a week early) AND my body decided to become extremely nauseous by the time I got home. What a day! And the adventure's not over yet. I'm still feeling sick this morning, the cramps are in full swing, and we still don't have the van back yet. Opposition in all things, I guess!
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