The next morning came with no phone calls through the night. They did it. The boys stayed at their friend's house and hopefully had a blast. I couldn't imagine the state of the house or the level of consiousness the boys would be in from probably staying up all night. I was excited to get out of bed and pop the younger two kids in the car to go see how it went. I didn't bother to change out of my pajamas or even look in the mirror for that matter. We were just going to run over and grab the boys to come home. (Can you guess where this is going?)
When we pulled into their drive-way, my three and five-year old jumped out in their footy pajamas and I walked with them to the door...again, no make-up, hair in a crazy pony tail...and my pjs. My friend came to the door with the biggest smile and said, "They did Great!" whew. "Everything was ok? Were they good?!" "Yes! They stayed up really late but they were fine and had a fantastic time." I took a quick look around the house (which smelled like mouthwatering bacon) and everything did actually seem to be intact. No holes in the walls, no windows broken...It was the first morning of a new chapter..."the sleep-overs". Giving my friend the biggest hug, we thanked her and her son for having the boys stay over. She is a brave, brave Mama.
As I walked with the four kids out to the car, I noticed the muggy, hot Carolina morning was kicking in. I smiled with the comfort of not worrying about any lost time on getting ready, because once you hit that "wall of mug," it's all over. The two older boys sat droopy eyed in the back as the two younger ones tried to ask them 100 questions. I smiled in the rear-view mirror and turned the keys to start the car...nothing. Switching my eyes to the ignition, my heart began to race..."No, no, no...not again." Try again aaaaand, nothing. Grabbing my phone, I sent a quick text to my husband..."In M's drive-way, car won't start." Two seconds later he texted back, "Please tell me you're kidding." I reached for my wallet and pulled out my trusty "Triple AAA" card. If you may have read a few weeks back about "Spidey and the Tow-Truck," you know the background. I swear these tow-truck people know us by name by now - and everytime they have to come and rescue us, we keep looking better and better.
A text buzzed in saying, "Do you need me to come get you?" I clicked back..."No, I think it will be fine. Stay at work and I'll keep you posted. xo" Our whole pajama clad crew piled back into my friend's house, (did I mention that I adored her?) and we waited for the trusty tow-truck to appear.
When the low rumbling familiar sound arrived, the kids were giddy. They ran out to the drive-way and began to wave wildly. I followed them out with my now "out to here" frizzy ponytail hair, muggy, sweaty no make-up, pajama wearin' self and watched as he got out of his truck. He tried to hide his "What the *^&% is goin' on here and why are all of these crazy kids jumping around?" expression, but it was pointless. We looked like a circus act.
He popped the hood, figured out that the battery was toast and said that he could replace it for one hundred and some dollars. That was better than the timing belt cost from the last "Triple AAA" encounter but it still hurt. Quickly texting back and forth again with my husband, he asked the guy to jump it and let him do the rest. The man got the car to start, gathered his things and headed back to his truck. He turned out to be the nicest guy and didn't seem to get too annoyed at all of the questions from our five year old in his footy pajamas. As he drove away though, I had to giggle at the thought of what must have been going through his head..."That was one crazy family...and what was up with the pajamas?"
Thank God at least I wasn't wearing my retainer.