Karma. WHATEVER.

So. Back to our regularly scheduled programming.

A few days ago, I was busy cursing Britax and Lexus because they blew up my uber-scientific hypothesis about the convertible car seat’s ability to keep Dane more awake in the car. I have a THING with karma (I have a lot of THINGS, actually. I’m certain this is because of some deep-seated childhood trauma from watching the movie House as a kid. That’s right, Hollywood, I BLAME YOU.). Anyway, karma just smacked up my you-know-what again BECAUSE:

1. After Day Two of the great car seat switcheroo, little man is so engrossed by everything out the window (even in the rear-facing direction, THAT’S RIGHT, BABY COPS, I FIGURED IT OUT, HAHAHA.) (Also, TRUH! BAH! BUH! TRUH! MAMA! PUFF!) that he hasn’t fallen asleep in the car seat SINCE THAT VERY DAY. Now, let me clear. Because I just wrote that for God and the entire internet to read, he’ll fall asleep in it tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m going to pound my chest and make manly mommy Tarzan noises and pretend like I TOTALLY KNEW THAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN AND NEVER DOUBTED IT FOR A MOMENT. Right. Also, FINE, Britax, you rock. But only in cowmooflauge.

2. Secondly: Lexus, you and I have had a few problems. You got mad at me for driving like an Earnhardt and leaked some oil. You threw a shoe in the form of a bad tire and then told all your service people to treat me like a dumb blonde mother of a newborn (it took three, THREE service calls for the dealer to figure out I had a tire with a broken belt, all the while I was TRANSPORTING MY SMALL BABY.). And my issue with your putting my baby to sleep has been well documented. But. BUT.

Yesterday, I was a part of a small auto accident (that was, yes, COMPLETELY MY FAULT and for which I feel terribly, terribly terrible). No-one was hurt and by some miracle Dane was not in the vehicle at the time. Our insurance company is going to be thrilled, because Ed, the guy I hit (who, luckily for me, gave up being angry for Lent), has a badly smushed, broken-in-half bumper. My vehicle? TWO SCRATCHES. Nary a dent, even. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure the dealer will find a way to charge me roughly half my life savings and my second and third childrens’ souls for the repair. Still, I have to say, fine, begrudgingly, YOU TOO ARE FORGIVEN.

I believe that is all for today, other than:

Ah-hah, y’all. Jester’s dead.

smooch -s

p.s. A little perspective in the wake of my VERY MINOR FENDER BENDER IN WHICH NO ONE WAS HURT BUT LEXUS AND MITSUBISHI STAND TO MAKE A MINT: When I got home from the accident, I found out that a friend of a friend’s son, a senior in high school, was in an accident that has left him in a coma, and another friend of that friend was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer despite being a non-smoker. So (1) WHATUP WITH THAT, GOD? (2) For real, please pray for them both and (3) We are so, so lucky. -s

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