Monday, June 1, 2009

We're Going to Draw Straws For the Death Seat

One of the seat belts in my car; never mind, fine, I'll just say it: minivan; no, never mind again, I don't care for that car is broken. It's been broken for a long time. We've been working around it, and it's been fine, considering we have two spare seat belt spots in the car. Our plan has been to get it fixed the next time we take our car in for servicing.

Well, our sit-aroundedness has bitten us in the ass because I remembered yesterday that seeing as how my sister is coming into town tomorrow with her two kids, we are going to need that seat belt. Like, immediately.

I did the math, like, 67 times, but it still came out to seven people and six seat belts for a ride home from the airport.

With these figures in mind, I made an appointment at the dealership and headed off with Quinn at 1 p.m. this afternoon.

And just shut up about us taking our car to be serviced at the dealer. Yes, we know exactly how fucking dumb we are.

The dude in the service department was all, "Sometimes it takes a few days to fix jammed seat belts, and sometimes it takes five, ten minutes."

Stupid jerk, getting my hopes up.

He told us to give him an hour or so, and Quinn and I wandered off to explore the dealership. And here's why the dealership is superior to the mechanic because when was the last time you saw a fish like this at a mechanic?

Answer: Never.

Quinn had a lovely time freaking that fish out and warning all the other fish to "Stay away from the spiky fish! Stay away from the spiky fish!"

The fish totally won this staring contest.

At some point Quinn lost interest in the fish and started demanding that I buy him a new car.

He did NOT care for my advice that he'd better start saving up. I finally told him the car he was interested in cost FORTY THOUSAND DOLLARS.

He waited a beat, gave me a picture-perfect pout and said, "Next time I want that much for my birthday."

Please take note, birthday money senders.

After that we played at the world's dirtiest lego-type block table ever.

I was midway into my squat in order to sit down on one of these chairs...

...when a salesman sprinted by and suggested that I pull up a regular-sized chair. I think he was concerned about the scene that was about to ensue when that chair exploded from being sat on by a bigger person than had ever attempted to sit on such a chair. I have to say, I think the regular-sized chair was definitely the right decision. This photo does not quite capture how tiny these chairs were.

Eventually we wandered back to the service department where I was informed that they had to order the part and it would be a week. Strangely, my disappointed "Nooooooooo!" did not cause the part to suddenly appear.

I spent the entire drive home trying to figure out who in the driving-home-from-the-airport group was the most expendable. I finally decided it was my sister me. I had decided to seat belt everyone into a seat and then take Death Seat myself when Alex called and suggested a babysitter.

And I hate to say it, but it makes sense. So I hired our super fabulous babysitter to come over and watch my kids while I drive to the airport.

Now I just have to convince at least one of them that the babysitter is more fun than a drive to the airport. I'd already promised Sam and Jack that they could leave school at noon to come to the airport with me. I'm following through on that promise because (1) I'm not prepared for the whining that would ensue if I told them that they actually had to stay at school all day, (2) we won't be back in time to pick them up from the bus stop and Jack's bus driver will NOT release him to just anyone (she awesomely asked Alex for ID the one time he had to get Jack off the bus), and (3) because Jack's "homework" for the next two weeks is to practice a song for kindergarten graduation, I'm not all too concerned that they'll be missing a lot of hard-core academics.

We'll have to revisit that "least expendable" decision whenever our whole group wants to leave my house. Consider my children warned that they should start being really nice to me right now.


  1. OMG! I was just in that dealership (doing favor for ex-husband) when I was stopped short by that VERY SAME FISH! How funny is that?

  2. You know that Lego table is not nearly as cool (or I'm sure as clean) as the one you made.

    I made the mistake of showing yours to my children who continue to hound me: "Why can't you make one for us like that Blog Mother Woman did for *her* children?"

    I know you'd like being called that...

  3. Say hi to your sister for me. She is one of the most awesome people I know and I'll always just love her for helping me through a tough time.
    You of course are also just as awesome for so many reasons... including this funny blog post. I have had similar scenarios. I also become the martyr in most of them and accept the "death seat".

  4. That's too funny! Have a good visit with your sister!

  5. It took my mom three times as long to explain to me that my son would not be sitting in a booster seat when our relatives were visiting, and don't worry cuz it's legal. And yet, her story was not nearly so funny. My kids fight over who gets to sit in our own death seat, the middle seat with the lap belt only, when we drive their friends.

  6. Hope you have a great time with your sister and her kids!

  7. We had to wait for paperwork when we picked up my car at the dealership. I just let them run rampant through all the brand new cars in the showroom. Believe me when I tell you it moved things along.

    Put an adult in the death seat. Remember how we grew up?

    Last but not least, seat belts are covered by warranty for life. Don't let them charge you.

    Really last thing, have fun with your sister and kids!

  8. that totally sucks, but you wrote about it hilariously! just think, when we were kids, there were no seat belts!

  9. You can borrow my minivan. But it's not nearly as clean as that Lego table.

  10. Well, if you're really depserate, call Pep Boys and see if they have the part in stock. Then call the dealer and tell them to get their ass over to Pep Boys and fix your damn seatbelt.

    At least, that's what I'd do. Of course, I'm married to a nerdly dude who would actually *know* that places like PepBoys would have that shit.

    Whatever you do, please stay safe. I'd miss you terribly. xo

  11. A link from Stimey! The awesome babysitter's blog has finally joined the major leagues.

  12. I think I'll go out and dismantle a seatbelt s I can use that threat - it's brilliant!

  13. I don't care what you're trying to figure out, math is too awful to do 67 times!!

  14. I won't give you crap about going to the dealership since you admitted that you know what you did was wrong.

    Why not just try a bungee cord?

  15. We also currently have a Death Seat, and Joey is heartbroken, because he's decided that is where he wants to sit, and knows he can't with the seatbelt broken. I need to get it done by August, in time head for the beach with Grandma, because i am definitely the one assigned to the Death Seat.

  16. In what manner is your seatbelt broken? I "fixed" my colleague's broken seatbelt, so I suddenly fancy myself an expert in all things restraint-related.

  17. Is it broken in a 'needs sewing' kind of way, or in a jammed-in-the-seat kind of way? Hmm... well, there's always duct tape, I suppose. :)


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