Flat tires

Most anyone who reads my blog has already heard this story, but I have to write it down for posterity.

I'm watching the Bering boys again this summer. I'm home taking care of my own kiddos anyway and it helps pay the bills - AND keeps my kids occupied. I started a week after I got back from Africa. Most days go pretty smoothly, especially since the weather has been so cooperative.

The first Friday I watched them it was cooler outside. We had gone to Jefferson Park in the morning, but we got cold and I forgot the diaper bag, so we came home early. I hadn't picked up any good lunch food and we usually eat lunch at the park, so I decided at the last minute to take them all to Wright Park for lunch, which is closer to my house. Then we could come straight home for nap time. So we headed over there at noon. Everything was going smoothly until BANG! As I was parking I hit the curb and my already damaged front right tire exploded. Yes, exploded, with a big puff of air and a loud boom that scared us all. Abby got out and said, "Yep, it's flat." Sure enough, there was a giant rip through the side wall.

Now what? I took the kids down the hill to eat lunch and tried to think. I could walk them home, but it was several blocks uphill and Grant had been running a fever all week. I'd have to carry him and try to keep the others in line. I could call a friend to give us a ride home, but how would I get all four kids plus myself and the driver home without leaving some kids alone in the park at some point?

Not to fear, we have fabulous people in our missional community who work strange hours and can come help my change a tire while I'm watching four children and my husband is working in Silverdale. Thanks, Phil.

So we made it home - by this time Grant was REALLY dragging. Mike took the van in for two new front tires the next day. We were planning a road trip the next weekend, so it was all good. A good story. No big deal.

Then came Monday. We went back to the park to visit with friends and eat lunch. We came home with no mishaps and I put the boys to bed. This time Jumah was home, so she stayed with the boys while I took Abby and Connor to the library to check in their summer reading club books. When we headed back, I was rounding the corner - very slowly mind you, I had to wait for people to cross - and I caught the edge of a curbside storm drain with the back right tire.

"Mom!" Connor yelled. "You're going to make us have another flat tire!"

"No, I'm not." I said as I headed up the hill. "I just hit the curb." A few blocks later I realized that I was wrong. I pulled over a few blocks from home and parked the car in a space which would hopefully make tire changing easy. Yet another gaping gash in the sidewall meant that this one couldn't be repaired, either. We would need to get two more new ones.

"Honey, please sit down." I said when my husband picked up the phone. "I have sad news and you're not going to believe me. You're really going to think I'm kidding, but I'm really not kidding."

He had to be thinking, "What on earth?!"

"I just hit a curb with the BACK right tire of the van and it exploded just like the front one did on Friday."

He just laughed. We walked home and ended up with two MORE new tires the next day.

I think I'm the only person I know who can blow up two tires the exact same way within three days of each other. Mike wouldn't even let me drive in Spokane. But I haven't hit a curb since!