Still Waiting . . .

No, no. Not that. Lambchop is still in utero and, truthfully, I'd like her to come after Saturday morning because I have a long-booked hair appointment that morning. And who knows when I'll get another chance for a while.

No, I'm talking about my car, my Big Blue Bus. On Monday, after the boys and I visited the dentist, we took a quick 'detour' on the way home to put diesel in the Big Blue Bus. I figured I had enough time between the dentist appointment and Ramekin's afternoon preschool session to get us there and back in time to serve up lunch in between.

I'll admit, I've been a little paranoid lately about having enough fuel in the car in the event that I'll suddenly need to be somewhere --oh, say like the hospital-- only to realize that we won't make it there without stopping first to fill up. So my comfort level hasn't been letting my car's fuel level drop much beyone the quarter tank mark.

Anyway, when I got to the Tesco service station down the road, I was quite pleased to discover it wasn't that busy. I went straight to a pump, filled up my car, hopped back in, and ... sat there.

The engine was turning over, but not 'catching'. As in not starting. As in my car wouldn't move. And no matter how many times I tried to get it started, it just wasn't starting.

Crap.

So what does any 9 month stressed out pregnant woman whose car, with two toddlers strapped into their seats in the back, do when her car won't start? She calls her extremely busy husband, of course. You know, the one who's been working incredibly hard knowing he's going to be out of the office for a couple of weeks on paternity leave in the very near future, although we don't know exactly when in the future. That husband.

Poor G.

So with the boys starting to get a little edgy about our extended stay at the service station, I called him. And told him what was going on. Did he want me to call the auto club? Or did he want to come check it out for himself first, before we risked an increase in our auto club premium?

Luckily, he had a 'window' and only works about fifteen minutes from home. So, after confirming I'd done everything possible that I could do to start the car myself, he said he was on his way to have a look. (I tipped off the service station what was going on, and they were very kind about it, putting an orange pylon behind my car so nobody would bug us to move. It's not like the nine month pregnant lady was going to try to push the car out of the way, after all!)

The boys were quite excited at this point, of course. Their Daddy was coming to rescue us! I freed them from their car seats, and they squeezed into the passenger seat together to scribble on paper and await his arrival.

When G arrived, I handed over the driver's seat and watched him get the same 'no go' response that I had. Repeatedly. He checked a few things. And then he checked out the car's 'book'. And then he tried again ... and then, after a few long tries, miraculously, it started!

After much discussion, and turning it off and starting it again a few times, it was decided that there must have been an air bubble or something in the fuel line. I was so relieved; G was relieved and a bit perplexed; and the boys were really impressed that Daddy saved the day. So G went back to work; and the boys and I went home for the fastest 'snack lunch' on record so I could get Ramekin to preschool on time. My Big Blue Bus made the drop off and pick up without incident, so I was happy. And when G got home from work, he went out to start it a handful of times without incident 'to make sure'.

And all was right with the world.

So Tuesday morning, the boys and I headed off to town for our morning playgroup. There was finger painting, messy but happy boys. Then we had lunch with a friend. And then we headed back to the parking garage I was parked in so I could drive them to nursery and then head home for a few hours. I paid for our parking, loaded everyone and everything back into the car, hopped back in and ... you almost guessed it ... the car started. But something wasn't quite right ... and I reversed out of the parking space, feeling a little uneasy about the whole thing ... then moved the car mode into Drive ... moved forward a few feet, but then got nothing, zip, nada when I pushed on the accelerator.

In the middle of the parking garage. So I stopped the engine. Waited a minute. Then tried to start it again and got ... this time you guessed it... nothing.

I kid you not. The exact same thing that had happened at the service station when I turned the key --engine turning over, but not 'catching'-- was happening again. And no matter how long I tried to make it catch, it clearly just wasn't going to happen this time. So I had to call G again. Only to discover that his boss was out, as was another crucial co-worker, so he was covering for all three of them. Which meant he could not leave the office to see if he could get it going.

Now had I gone into labor, that would have been different... he acknowledges that... but being stranded for the afternoon in town? I'd have to sort it.

So I strategically/hopefully tried to start the car again when I saw a rather strong looking man heading toward the garage exit on foot nearby. My desperate ploy paid off. He stopped, turned around, looked at me and the boys stranded in the middle of the aisle, and came back to help. After establishing we couldn't jump an automatic, he generously offered to push the car into a parking space while I steered. I couldn't thank him enough. I then unloaded the boys from the car; pulled the stroller out (thank goodness I had one with me); strapped BooBaaa in; told Ramekin he was to keep a hand on the push chair and walk nicely; and, after tipping off the powers that be at the parking garage, walked the boys to nursery which was about fifteen to twenty minutes away. On the trek back, I called the auto club and explained my predicament, and a really nice man showed up about half an hour later.

It took him a while, but he finally managed to get my car going. I think the advanced state of my pregnancy made him a tad nervous --and who can blame him, it makes me nervous!-- so he insisted on following me all the way to my car's dealership. (My apologies to other people with car issues who were waiting for their turn for help Tuesday afternooon; but, hey, it was the right thing to do, no?)

Of coruse, the dealership service department was swamped. Swamped. And there were no loaner cars available, since those are generally reserved well in advance for routine car maintenance (we do it, too). So I sat there for two and a half hours, reading a book and eating apples, grapes and granola bars for a rather belated lunch. (Luckily, I tend to keep books and snacks in the car for the boys.) G left work in time to swoop by to pick me up, and then the boys at nursery closing time, delivering us home before heading back to his office for yet more work.

So I have no car at the moment, which I do not like. I called to check on its status yesterday, and they hadn't even found the time to look at it yet. Which means I had to cancel nursery for the boys and find a way to entertain them on the wettest, soggiest day of the month thus far. Seriously, it poured most of yesterday afternoon, keeping us trapped in the house.

And when I called just a little while ago, after walking Ramekin to preschool, they said that a technician was just starting to look at it and they would get back to me as soon as they knew something.

So fingers crossed I get my car back later this afteroon ... because I am seriously uneasy about being 37+ weeks pregnant, hixing very frequently, and without instant transportation.

At least my bags are packed. sigh