When Your Kid Has a Car Accident…

Time stopped. I saw the phone ringing. I knew where he was heading. And I knew without hearing a word what had happened. My son had gotten in an accident.

Call it a mother’s intuition, but I didn’t have to hear a word to know that something was wrong. As I heard the details, everything around me faded away. All I could think was “get to the boy.” Get to the boy. GET TO THE BOY.

But there was a problem. I didn’t know where he was.

If you’re ever the first person who gets that emergency call from your child, there’s things you should know.  Let me save you from the wrath of your loved ones by educating you on how this conversation is supposed to go. Question #1 should be “Are you ok?” Once that is dealt with, question #2 should then follow – “Where are you?” Three easy words. WHERE ARE YOU? My husband didn’t know these rules.  And because Q2 wasn’t asked, this upset mama went racing to the car to drive…. somewhere… anywhere that would put me closer to my son. GET TO THE BOY.

I tried to reach my child. No answer. GET TO THE BOY.  I called my husband and grilled him for clues. Nothing. GET TO THE BOY.  I reasoned with myself. He said it wasn’t so bad. GET TO THE BOY.  No matter how hard I tried to remain calm, I felt my insides knot up and my heart race. I had to GET TO THE BOY.

And I finally did. He was OK. In fact he was worried about me. He knew I was upset, but he also knew he was in a bad part of town and didn’t want me in danger. He handled the entire situation on his own. The other driver. The Highway Patrol. All of it. And when I got to him, he directed me to drive down the road until we arrived at a safer place to talk. “This is a bad area mom. Don’t even stop. Just keep going. I don’t want you to get out of the car here.”

What just happened?

My baby boy grew up.

 

Oh I’ll always be his mama. I’ll always have that “GET TO THE BOY” feeling, but he has become a young man. I blinked and it happened. He has gained wisdom. He has built strength. He was able to handle this on his own… with God’s hand on him of course. And He has such a plan for that boy’s life (um.. young man). As I followed him home, I couldn’t help but sense that His plan is going to be pretty awesome.  Now that doesn’t mean I didn’t sit both my son and my husband down and make them practice the steps of the Emergency Call Protocol. Repeat after me – “Where are you?!”

And the child grew and became strong; he was filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was on him. Luke 2:40

 

I’m Not Qualified for Key Fob Repair

There are times when we try to “help” and we actually make things worse. Ever done that? I may have. Once. OK maybe twice.

One morning on my drive to work, my car tells me the battery in my key fob is low. “Hmm,” I thought. “I better take the appropriate measures to resolve this potential issue before it causes me to be stranded in an unsafe area. Thanks for the warning Car.”  OK OK, it may have sounded more like, “Oh snap, it has a battery? Who’s got time to worry about that?”

Naturally I did relay this breaking news report to my darling Hubby who promptly responded with a detailed answer – “OK”. He’s a man of few words. Efficient, I believe he calls it.

After arriving at work I decided that as a seasoned marketing executive I could research this issue, create a plan to address it, execute the plan flawlessly, analyze the results and report key learnings and next steps back to the team. After all it would be a help to the hubby.  I deemed myself qualified with ceremonial flair and proceeded to Google the situation at hand.

key-fob

A YouTube video promptly appeared on my screen. This 12-year-old boy said replacing the battery was a piece of cake. Awesome. Just to be sure, I watched the second video. Due diligence they call it. Good use of buzz words, I thought. An older guy says it’s simple and he will give me step by step instructions. Perfect. I assembled the necessary tools, i.e. a quarter, rubber gloves, face mask, fire extinguisher… Preparation is one of my strong points.

I proceeded through the steps, identified the location of the battery, obtained the information for the type of battery I needed to purchase and then attempted to put the key fob back together again to make the car driveable so I could acquire said battery.

“Snap the two halves back together,” he says. “It’s easy,” he says. “It’s painfully simple,” he says. Well, “he” is wrong.

Nothing would make the two halves of this key fob go back together. These two pieces that were one just moments ago are now seemingly so completely incompatible it’s as if they were never meant to be attached at all. I tried using force, the sneak attack, the standing up approach, the spin-in-my-chair-and-pray-gravity-draws-them-back-together approach. Nothing.

And then things got worse.

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