Tires and Tears

If a Mom cries in Canadian Tire, does she make a sound?


Monday we got a call from Sick Kids Hospital asking us to fill a last minute cancellation at the Sleep Study lab. We’d been waiting awhile, so I jumped at the chance. I picked up both kids from school and whisked them over to Canadian tire. Only a week after replacing my slashed rear tire, it seemed I now had a nail in a front tire. I didn’t want to risk driving on the highway on an impaled tire. I explained we were in a rush and the tire maven at the desk said she would see what they could do to get it fixed fast. All I had to do now was wait. Oh, and entertain my two tired children.Ya, there was that.

My patient son was fine. He always is. Avery however had just pooped her Pull-Up (TMI, but it sets the mood), was hungry, thirsty and generally annoyed. The candy dispenser kept her amused for about three minutes. Apparently it’s a hoot eating Skittles off the dirty garage floor. Know what else is fun? Dumping a basket of  sugar packets all over the floor and yelling “Cool!” while the tire maven looks at you with mixture of pity and disgust and asks for the second time, “How old is she?” (more about THAT pet peeve another time).

And cue the mechanic to come out to tell me the tire’s too damaged to repair and I need a new one but…they don’t have any in stock. He would put on the spare but advised I shouldn’t drive very far. Perfect. I decided to call around to see if I could borrow somebody’s car to get into the city.  Aaaaaaaand this is when my iphone froze. God only knows why. Oh wait, I know why. Because this is my life right now.

Avery was fed up with me ignoring her while I fiddled with my phone so she bolted. While looking over her shoulder to see if I was following, she ran smack into a display of sunglasses. As I crouched to pick up the mess of strewn shades, I started to cry. There’s something quite humbling about losing your sh*t in the automotive section of Canadian Tire.

How does this story end? They put on the donut. I fixed my phone. I borrowed my MIL’s car. And we made the appointment. Ah, the appointment…now THAT is a story in itself…

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