Several months ago, our minivan was in the shop. The check-engine light was coming on for no apparent reason. As it turns out, it was a simple sensor. Wait, let me rephrase that, a simple $600 sensor. Nothing is actually wrong with the engine, mind you, but without the light operating properly, one can never be sure.
I took the news gracefully, asked for my keys back, and told them I needed to check the warranty.
As it so happened, my father-in-law was in town. He’s very adept and handy. And he’s amazingly skilled at analyzing a situation from all angles. It’s somewhat of a “leave no stone unturned” philosophy which has the capacity to both inspire and irritate, depending on my state of mind.
“You’ll want to check the warranty,” he advises. “You might also want to check out the track record on the Sienna. This might be a common problem.” “Have you had any other problems with your dashboard lights?” “You didn’t pay them for the diagnostic did you?” “Maybe you should call the dealer.” “I’d check out stats on the sensor too, that cost seems ludicrous.” “You never know with these mechanics, they might just be hoo-doing you.” “Maybe it just needs to reset.” And so on.
All the while, I’m struggling with my youngest who is crying inconsolably. His molars are coming through; he’s irritable, hungry and needs a nap. We return home, I get Indigo settled in his crib, and then return to my daughter’s preschool for pick-up. On the way home, we grab some lunch to-go. Twenty minutes later, we’re seated around the kitchen table. Then it’s playtime and laundry before picking up our eldest from elementary school.
“So,” says my father-in-law as he enters from the side porch where he’s been reading a book. “Have you called the dealer yet or checked out those sensor stats on line?”
God love him, he is kind, generous and thoughtful. But this is truly laughable.
“What are you completely insane?” I want to say. “No, I have not called the dealer. I have hardly had a chance to pee.”
It reminds me of the time he remarked on my mother in-law’s inability to unload the dishwasher without being distracted by ten other things along the way. As an at-home mom, I could identify this phenomenon in five seconds flat. It’s called multi-tasking, and it’s the only way parents EVER accomplish anything when they’re at home with small children.
My father-in-law, on the other hand, was simply on-task. His analysis was like a laser beam. And he could not comprehend how so much time could have elapsed with so little accomplished.
Herein lies the rub. So much of an at-home parent’s workaday world is not quantifiable. With that in mind, I’ve noticed that I almost automatically launch into a lengthy list of accomplishments the moment my husband walks through the door. To him, everything looks exactly the same as when he left at 8:00. Little does he know, I have virtually dismantled and rebuilt our house brick-by-brick in the past ten hours.
With regards to my father-in-law, he still asks me about that check engine light from time-to-time (as well as a myriad of other things on my to-do list), but I think he’s started taking note of that “far-away look” that overcomes me. Especially when he starts grilling me about plumbing gaskets and what it might take to move the shed.
Progress comes in strange and mysterious ways. I’ll take this as a sign that we’re moving forward.
So much wisdom in this one. I too wanted to list off the things I accomplished daily when I was at home with kids. And I still do it now to myself sometimes. What is that need?
This is just exactly what I remember of those years. I once thought that on "Mother's Day" all caretakers should tweet each and every moment of the day starting with: "rushed from bed to screaming child," "brought up and put away all the items on the bottom step that everyone else stepped over," "unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher," "made three breakfasts while breast-feeding," "did not have chance to brush teeth or shower today..."