Friday, August 23, 2013
And then I nearly got run over. By my own car.
I'd like you to picture this as you read it. Try really hard. It makes it so much better if you remember the convex nature of my belly.
The other day I was trying to enrol Tricky in kindy for next year (wait, what? He can't be old enough for that yet?) but the school we wanted him to go to, because he's been attending the pre-kindy program there since the beginning of the year, let us know via a lovely "too bad, so sad, ask again next year" letter that they didn't have a spot for him. Damn you, catchment areas. I shake my fist at you.
Being a waddling 40+1 weeks pregnant I thought I better get off my ass and find somewhere else before Bobbin arrives and takes up so much of my days that I only remember to call the school after everyone has left for the day.
I got all the way to the school and got Tricks out of the car before realizing I'd left his birth certificate at home. I didn't think a blog post saying when he had been born would count and I wanted it done yesterday so I clipped the boy back in and headed home again. Confused the kid a bit but no big deal.
There is a reason I'm telling you this boring back story. I need you to realize just how poorly my synapses are firing right now. Let's continue.
At home I got out of the car and decided that since I was only going to be two seconds (his birth certificate was just inside the front door in the don't-forget-to-take-this-spot) that I'd leave Tricky in the car in the driveway. I turned the car off and took the keys with me, blipping them to lock the doors as I stepped away.
In my post-dates preggo brain I forgot to put the handbrake on. And to put it in park. Clever, huh?
I got to the front of the passenger side, a whole six steps away, when the car started to roll backwards towards the road. Shit. With Tricky strapped in the back. FUCK.
I ran. As everybody knows, running is a skill I do not normally possess. But I ran. Do you know how quickly cars can roll? Bloody quick. It was going faster than I usually back out of the driveway.
I fumbled the keys out my pocket as the car gained momentum, desperately trying to unlock the door. The locks popped up and I swung the door open.
Now I was running backwards. The car was picking up speed and was forcing me back faster than I could go. I couldn't keep up and I kept slipping, grazing the tops of my feet on the concrete and banging against the open door as I stumbled. 2.1 tonnes of steel pushing me relentlessly.
If I fell, the car would have run over my arm and shoulder. Because of the angle I was at, maybe my head. Though brain activity wise, I'm not sure if anyone would have noticed the difference.
But all I could think about was how scared Tricky would be if the car smashed in to the car and house across the street.
I lunged my feet toward the peddle and missed, twisting my leg around in the hip socket (the hip that had been giving me grief but was getting so much better in the last few weeks). Another two blind backsteps being pushed by the weight of the car and I lunged again. I hit the brake peddle enough to jolt the car and wipe some of the momentum off just as it was heading up the driveway across the street, heading for the neighbour's car and house.
I jumped in and slammed my foot on the brake. We stopped. In the neighbours driveway. A metre or so away from their car. We hadn't hit anything. If a car had been coming up the street I don't know what would have happened. The whole thing had taken less than ten seconds.
My body was shaking and I turned to Tricks who looked wide eyed in his car seat, "Are you OK?!". His lip quivered slightly then he said "I was only a little bit scared".
Tears pricked at my eyes, "Mum was too, mate. But we're OK now."
"I could give you a hug if you want, Mum?"
Yep. That started the tears.
Thanks to this adventure I have had a mean limp for two days, a couple of gnarly purple bruises on my arms and legs (a massive one on my ego), some grazes on my feet and one broken fingernail. Could have been worse.
Bet I'll never, ever, ever leave it off again. Ever.
Ever left the handbrake off? Felt as much of a dick as I do right now?