September 1st. For our family, it is the beginning of the craziest time of year, as it probably is for you too.

We start off by celebrating 5 birthdays in September (shew!). Sports are kicking into high gear, so daily practices and games are on the calendar. School events are sprinkled in here and there, and then BAM, we are in October. Fall events start, including our state fair, an annual day of walking and eating anything and everything fried, Halloween, which comes with its own calendar of events and get-togethers, and then BOOM, it is November. Halloween recovery and clean up, end-of-season sports functions, Thanksgiving planning, prep and cleanup, and WHAM, it is December. Christmas, Christmas, Christmas. Enough said. Take all that, mix in a hard-working, burning the candle at both ends, self-employed husband, my unpredictable, daily fight with Multiple Sclerosis, and Christine living with us, and our lives have become crazy on a whole new level.

You don’t know about Christine? Get yourself comfortable. This is a fun one.

A little background first…

I hate minivans. Yes, I said it. Sue me. I swore I would never drive one, and to this day, I have not (insert evil laugh.) My husband tried his hardest to talk me into one when we were expecting our first child. I resisted and we compromised on a Honda Pilot when our son was 6 weeks old. It turned out to be a fantastic car for our growing family, and we drove it until it fell apart. So, away we went car shopping. With two very active kids, my husband tried the minivan discussion once again, but in the end, we decided on a Suburban. Yikes. As excited as I was to have one, I felt like I needed a CDL license to operate it. It was huge. My mother called it a school bus. As I learned to drive (and park) something so much larger than I ever had before, I questioned if we made the right decision.

One Friday night a few years ago, we were planning to go out to eat with my mom and dad. The kids were still in afterschool care on the side of town where the restaurant was. I left work to pick up my parents, my husband was picking up the kids, and we were all meeting there for dinner. I was driving, my dad was in the passenger seat beside me and my mom was talking to us from the backseat. Rush hour traffic was busy, but thankfully it was moving right along. I remember glancing at the speedometer because going along with traffic can sometimes get you in trouble, especially when a parent is in the car. All was good – I was going 56 mph in a 55 mph zone.

My dad and I saw it at the same time. He knew what was coming next, as did I, but we had no time to say anything. I can still see him out of the corner of my eye leaning back against the seat. He was doing the same thing as me, bracing for impact, but nothing can properly prepare you for hitting another car at almost 60 miles per hour. I slammed on the brakes, but it did little good. I can still hear the sound of my screeching tires and the crunch of metal upon impact. And then, everything was quiet and we were completely still. I sat back, opened my eyes, and couldn’t see anything. The car was filled with smoke and airbag dust. My ears were ringing and I was coughing while trying to catch my breath. I could hear my mom in the backseat, but I couldn’t see her or my dad. Everything possible was going through my head in that split second. I tried to open my door, but it wouldn’t budge. I managed to roll down the window, and finally, the inside of the car started to clear out as people started running over. I could see my dad, and he seemed okay, but the sound of panic in my mom’s voice scared me. When I turned around, thank God, she was in one piece, but she was hurting. The impact was so hard, we found her glasses on the dashboard at the front of the car. We were battered and bruised, but slowly over the next few weeks, we would recover.

We found out shortly after the accident that the other driver was crossing the highway, making a left turn in front of us. He actually told the officer, “I thought I could make it.” That one still boggles my mind. He was lucky he lived through that really stupid decision. He was okay, but his BMW was decimated. An officer on the scene told us that the size of my vehicle was what protected us as much as it did. Anything smaller, and we would have had quite a different outcome. Thank God for big vehicles and airbags. Any questions I had about the size of my car flew out the window that day. I was perfectly fine with my school bus and had no desire to drive anything any smaller. Since my car was totaled from the accident, we purchased another Suburban until the opportunity arose to purchase a new one. That was when Christine came to live with us.

When this year started, I was taking some much-needed time off from work on medical leave. I was using that time to heal both my mind and body following my MS diagnosis and flare-up of symptoms. One day early in February, I was meeting a friend for lunch. Because I was incredibly early, I decided to make a pit stop at Target. Pretty much the only trouble I expected to get into would be walking out with way more than I should. I pulled into the parking lot and headed to my “usual” spot along the side of the building. Less traffic, fewer people, less chance of running over someone. It was early enough that there were plenty of open spaces, and I headed to “my” spot, which was to the right of the cart return corral since it was available. For whatever reason though, I decided to park to the left of the cart return. Why, I have no freaking idea. I made the turn and WHAM! I ran right into the corral. My heart was racing, my anxiety started spiking and I threw the car in park and jumped out to check the damage. Maybe it wasn’t that bad, maybe it felt worse than it was, maybe it was just a scratch. Dear God. Before I even got to the front of the car, I saw the bumper hanging off. Once I turned the corner, I saw exactly what I had done. I got back in the car and drove to another part of the lot so I could really see the damage, and prayed nobody saw what I did, although I am sure I am on a surveillance video that someone has probably replayed numerous times.

I called my husband in tears. Once we determined the car was okay to drive, I headed home. I was upset, but also so mad at myself for making such a dumb mistake. With everything else we were going through, this was not what we needed. I shot a quick text to my friend canceling lunch. Too embarrassed to admit what I did, I lied and told her I was in a minor fender bender (I fessed up later when we rescheduled). My parents came over to the house later that day, confident I was exaggerating about the extent of the damage. My mom’s reaction told me it was as bad as I thought. Hey Quincy, great job tearing up your new car at Target by hitting the shopping cart return corral. Christine – 1, Quincy – 0.

To the autobody shop, we went. When Christine came home, she was as good as new. Except for a squeak that the back glass was making. I kept forgetting to make an appointment to get that looked at. Maybe sometime soon…

A couple of months later, the kids and I picked up my parents for lunch. A fun outing for all of us. We headed down to a local pizza restaurant in town that we love. We ate early, so there was plenty of parking right in front of the restaurant, which is located in a strip mall. We were finishing up when I noticed a woman walk in. She looked around the dining room and headed to a table of men close to us. Her body language appeared as if she didn’t know them, and she seemed to be asking a question. When they all shook their heads, she looked up again. She questioned the restaurant out loud this time, “Does anyone here drive a black Suburban?” This can’t be good. When I stood up and told her I did, she pointed to me and said, “You need to come with me.” I walked out with her and saw my car, which looked fine from the front, but there were people standing all around, looking at the back. At that moment, I figured someone had backed into my car. Maybe some scratches, a dented bumper. I really wasn’t expecting much. When I saw the back of my car, I almost couldn’t comprehend what happened. It was destroyed. The back glass was gone, shattered into a million pieces that were all over the parking lot and completely covering the inside of my car. The bumper, lift gate, side panel, and brake lights were toast. I looked around for another vehicle. If my car looked like this, what in the world happened to them? That’s when the witnesses pointed to the culprit. His name was Tony, and he was walking over from his garbage truck. Yep, a garbage truck. Apparently, Tony didn’t want to make the drive all the way around the back of the shopping center and decided after emptying the dumpster, he would make a quick getaway by backing up and heading out of the parking lot the way he came in. Tony made a really dumb decision because trying to save a few minutes ended up ripping the back off my car. The best part? Tony was pissed. He cursed the entire time we waited for his manager and the police, telling me how he didn’t have time for this. Never said sorry one time. It was delightful. Tony was a peach.

By the time we filled out the police reports, gathered witness statements, took pictures, talked to the recycling company manager (Tony was still cursing across the parking lot), and loaded everyone up to go home, we were exhausted. On the bright side, Dad told me on the way home that the squeak in my back window was gone. Christine – 2, Quincy – 0.

To the autobody shop, we went. Again. When Christine came home, she was as good as new. Again.

Christine came home on a Thursday. It was so nice to have her back and the cargo room that came with her. On Saturday, the kids and I headed to Walmart to stock up on groceries and some staples for the house. The weather was warm and unsettled that day, so by the time we pulled into the parking lot, the sky had darkened and the rain was beginning. As we circled the lot looking for a spot, the rain picked up and within seconds we could barely see. It might as well have been the middle of the night. It was pitch black and it was pouring, flooding the parking lot and dreching anyone who dared to venture out. Most people were hunkering down in their cars or standing at the door of the store until it passed. I told the kids we would circle one more time and if no spaces opened up, we were heading home. We stopped at the end of a parking aisle and waited for the car in front of us to pull out, and that’s when I saw the car coming towards us. “No, no, no, no, no.” I kept saying. There was nothing I could do. I was stuck where I was until he hit us. Which he did. 3 days. I had my car for 3 days and I just got hit again. Now, I know I am pretty free with my language in my blog, but my kids will tell you, I very rarely spew profanity in front of them. Their father is another story. But when the car hit me that afternoon, I’m pretty sure my children thought they were with their dad. I was not a happy camper. The car pulled back into the parking space, and we finally were able to move, so I pulled up to the area at the front of the store. I looked back and saw the car pulling out again, and I figured they were making a run for it. I braced for the sheets of rain and got out of the car to check the damage. Ya’ll, when I tell you it was raining, that is an understatement. As soon as I got out, I stepped into about 6 inches of water because the parking lot was flooding. I was drenched by the time I reached the back of my car. Thankfully, from my initial observation, it just looked like scrapes and scratches, damage that could more than likely be buffed out. Probably good since the car that hit me was leaving. As I headed back to get in the car, a woman ran up to me and told me she was so sorry. It was then I found out that she was a passenger in the car that hit me, and her husband was moving the car over to where I was parked. In the midst of a torrential downpour, we exchanged information and they asked that once I got home and the weather cleared up, to let them know how bad the damage was and they would pay to fix it. We started to wrap up, and as I confirmed her husband’s telephone number, she told me to take hers too. She said her husband was being deployed the next morning to the Middle East, and she would coordinate everything for him. Wait, what? I immediately told them not to worry about it, but they insisted I take the car home and get back in touch. We parted ways and the kids and I headed home. Later that day, as the storms ended and the sun came out, I met my husband in the driveway as he drove up. We looked at the car, and his frustration disappeared when I told him about the driver’s deployment. We both agreed. It’s just a car, and it was just some superficial scratches. I contacted the other driver and told them not to worry about it. Christine – 3, Quincy – 0.

Just a few weeks ago, we came home one evening following dinner. My daughter and I were in Christine, my husband and my son following behind. We all pulled into the driveway and everyone headed inside. A storm was getting ready to move through, and we closed the front door just as the wind picked up and the rain started to fall. (What is it with us and storms??) The kids headed upstairs and my husband and I headed to the living room. No sooner than we sat down, we heard a loud crash and immediately heard the kids running from upstairs and screaming at us. We all met in the entryway and they told us the sound came from outside. My husband was first out. We couldn’t see him, but man, could we hear him. It reminded me of the rant Clark Griswold has at the end of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. The one where he doesn’t take a breath and spews every imaginable insult within the span of seconds. Well, I had my very own Clark that night. And rightfully so. With one gust of wind, we lost part of an 80-year-old tree in our yard. Want to take a guess where it landed? Yep. On my car. Crunched the roof, blew out the back glass, broke the brake lights, tore up the bumper, and destroyed the liftgate. I stared at my car and then at my husband while he continued to hurl insults at the wind, the tree, the car, you name it. My daughter looked at the car and then looked at me. She had tears in her eyes and wasn’t sure what to say. Same for my son. They watched me. I think they expected me to scream, to cry, maybe to curse, or flip out. They were ready to help, to hug, to do anything to prepare for what I would say or do. But they never expected what happened next. I chuckled. I’m pretty sure I scared them when I did. I watched my husband continue to scream at the limbs, the tree, and the leaves, and I turned to my kids and laughed, telling them not to worry. At that moment, I was fine. Yeah, it scared me too. But like I told the kids, it could have been so much worse, and once we got Clark calmed down, he agreed. A car can be fixed, just like it has been so many times before (sigh). And, according to my Dad, the repair process should be easier since the body shop had already fixed it once. They could just use the same order sheet for parts. Hardee Har Har. Christine – 4, Quincy – 0.

To the autobody shop, we went. Again. When I dropped it off for repairs, I walked in at the same time as one of the repair technicians. He looked at my car, then at me and said, “Wow. I just did one of those.” I replied, “Yep, it was me.” He said, “Nah, this was just a few weeks ago.” “Yep,” I replied, “It was me!”

So, how did I handle all of this? Very well, I will say. How? I have MS to thank. Before you think I am off my rocker, hear me out.

Before finding out I had MS, I stressed about so much. I worried about things I could control and things I couldn’t. I let things bother me that shouldn’t have. I worried too much about what others thought of me, and I worked so hard to make sure everything looked put together from the outside, whether it was with me, my kids, my house, my job, etc. Then came MS. For a long time after my diagnosis, I was in a very dark place. I struggled to find my way and to make sense of so much. Then things slowly started to come together. I look back now, and I realize how much I have changed. I have a completely different outlook on, well, everything. Including the random, weird, ridiculous things that happen, like cart corrals, garbage trucks, and trees. Do I still worry? Lord, yes. Do I still stress? Yes, but on a whole different level than before, especially since stress can worsen my symptoms and make me sick. Literally. Hence the reason I laughed when the tree fell on my car. Stressing wasn’t going to change the outcome, so why make myself sick over it? Plus, my husband covered it for both of us with his outburst. He’s thoughtful like that.

So, I have learned I need to take things with a grain of salt. And I do. Including living with Christine. If she wants to test my patience, so be it. Just know, once she comes out of the shop, and you pass me on the road and see me wearing a helmet while driving, mind your business. We don’t know what Christine is going to do next, and I like to be properly prepared.