Crazy Afternoon

So...
I am going through a major clean out of my house. Especially all my clothes (which, over the years I have amassed way too many). Nothing makes a small house feel smaller than a lot of junk smashed in every crevasse, nook and cranny...then add baby stuff on top of that. Anyway, I had finally finished the monumental task of going through every single article of clothing/accessory that I own. Each one seized up, scrutinized, rationalized... will I ever fit it again? Should moms really wear things like this? Am I just emotionally attached even though I haven't worn it in years? Jeans are the hardest. Anyone who knows me knows my addiction to good denim, and man its hard to let go...

Now I went through all that to tell you after I loaded up my last load of belongings that I was sacrificing to the consignment gods (or should I say goddesses? love you girls and FK...miss you! And if anyone is reading this and wants to consign with best shops in Atlanta call Finders Keepers! Shameless plug, I know.) ...shoes and purses to be specific...Beau and I were off.

I have an 08 Honda Civic that we purchased right before Christmas. At that point in time I was desperate to have the child I had been lugging around in my belly, not to mention convinced that if I went anywhere remotely public then I would surely have my water break and have some poor cashier between my legs to deliver my first born. So I didn't get out much. Then after Beau came I lived the life of a hermit for at least 6 weeks. Seriously...my eyes still have to adjust to the sunlight when I go anywhere now. So what I'm getting at is that the car had not been driven very much in the 5ish months we have had it. Here I am, obviously I am in the drivers seat, I have a huge...nay... GINORMOUS box of shoes of purses in my passenger seat because they couldn't fit in the back, or the trunk because of the stroller I always keep back there. I don't think the giant mound would have allowed the trunk to close anyway... and of course Beau was strapped snugly in his carseat behind the passenger seat.

We are twiddling along...I am saying my last goodbyes to those Kate Spade loafers that I LOVE but lets face it...I just never wear (they pinch a little on the pinkie toe). We come to a red light and being the law abiding citizen I am...I stop.

The following is my internal dialogue the next few minutes:
Hmm....should I stop for a Iced Vanilla Latte?
Oh my...
That truck is going to hit that car...
That truck is going to hit that car...
Slow down truck...you are going to hit that car...
Oh my...
Truck hit the car...
Truck is going to hit me...
Truck is going to hit me...
Shit. Truck hit me.

The truck creamed a red Pontiac in the intersection and then proceeded to skid, no, drive into my driver side door/front of the car. I have to be honest, it was a terrifying moment(s). The people in the red car were hurt...I could see witnesses trying to help them...but I was pinned in my car, because, oh yeah, there was a Ford F150 in my door. I couldn't get out the passenger door because of all the stuff...and at this point Beau was screaming. He was fine, I think he could just sense my fear. I finally realize I can climb to the back seat... I grab Beau and get out. By the time all this happened there were police, firemen (and by the way...what they say about firemen being hot is totally true...) and paramedics everywhere. They took the people in the red car off in an ambulance... It seemed they are going to be ok...but some prayers wouldn't hurt. The drivers of the truck? Nowhere to be found... they just left their car parked on my car and took off on foot... Nice. Luckily they were driving their COMPANY CAR with the name a phone number plastered all over the side. So, not only are they cowards, but dumb ones at that.

Shout out to the Austell police department, and Cobb Co. Fire and Paramedics...what fantastic people with hard, hard jobs. To the people in the red Pontiac...hope you get well soon. To the bastards who ran away... well...I'm a lady so I won't say what I really want to say. To my car, we'll see each other again...soon I hope. And to my Kate Spade loafers now sitting in my garage with all my other stuff... your days are numbered. Even though it will take every ounce of strength I have not to dig you out of that box every time I pass by, my better judgement will prevail... for once...hopefully...