To the lady in the white Kia SUV

"Venetian Red Pearl"

Heather got a new car a few weeks ago, a Subaru Outback that fulfills her need for bells & whistles from the inside but acknowledges its practicality on the outside.  Ladies and gentlemen, Heather has a mom car.

Her mom car blocked my own mom-ish car (Heather's hand-me-down) into the driveway today, and I wasn't all that sad to take the Subaru when Evie & I trekked to my parents' house for dinner.  It auto-detects my phone, you guys.  It saves my seat settings.  It check my blind spots for me.  And, oh lord, is it comfortable.

The only thing that I don't love is that Evie's car-seat can't go in the middle.  It has to be up against one of the doors, so Heather has it on the driver's side.  It's a million times easier to take in & out of the car that way, and I've been tempted to do the same with the CR-V, even though her seat works just fine in the center.  The temptation is pretty much gone after today.

My sweet little peanut had been crying for most of the 20-minute drive, determined to fight off a badly-needed nap.  I was listening to a podcast, trying to drown out the tired baby behind me, and feeling grateful that we weren't far from the loving ministrations of her grandparents.

I'd clocked a white SUV in a driveway to the far left of the relatively-busy street, while I was at the far right.  I continued driving like a sane person, when suddenly the Kia made a sprint for the gas station next to me.  I slammed on the brakes and laid on my horn, within probably a foot of an accident. 

I gave some thought to pulling into the gas station myself and taking the issue up with the Kia driver.  I decided that blocking the lady in and bitching her out with a grumpy baby in the back seat wasn't actually the best parenting decision, as tempted as I was, but I fumed and wept for the rest of the drive, badly rattled at the prospect of that wreck.  When we made it to my parents' house, I left a miserable voicemail for Heather, then brought the baby in and demanded alcohol.

I have probably had more to drink since Evie was born than in the previous 5 years of my life.

Earlier in the week, I posted to my Facebook page that anyone who tailgates a car with a "Baby on Board" sticker deserves oozing STDs, and I stand by that.  I wanted to tell the damned-to-hell Kia lady that my 5-month-old deserved to get through the suburbs to get snuggles and playtime from her grandparents.  She has an aunt in New York who loves her, and doting grandparents, and so many honorary aunts & uncles, on top of her googly-eyed, worshiping moms.  We would be shattered if anything happened to her.  We would never get over it. 

Hell, Evie's had a cold for the past few weeks, and I've repeatedly said that I'd rather have a cold for six months than for her to have one for two weeks.  If we were in a wreck and just her ankle was sprained, I'd be stealing ice from the gas station and sprinting to the minor med across the street.  Her cries would shake me.  Heather, my parents, and Auntie Née-- any of them would race across town to help.  Heather's boss would be there in his Corvette.

I guess it's just stunning to me, when Evie has been adored and cosseted by all the people around her, that she wouldn't be handled with kid gloves by the rest of the world.  Who could drive their bullshit Kia out in front of a vehicle carrying our precious girl? 

When I think about how we care for Evie, I think of two Paul Simon lyrics. 

Never been lonely
Never been lied to
Never had to scuffle in fear
Nothing denied to
Born at the instant
The church bells chime
And the whole world whispering
Born at the right time

And

May twelve angels guard you
While you sleep
Maybe that's a waste of angels, I don't know
I'd do anything to keep you safe
From the danger that surrounds us

Goddamn Kia.