Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Ridin' Dirty

When did my car become a filthy, roving snack shack? And why do I find its' perpetual disgusting state acceptable? Like an eating disorder, or drug addiction, perhaps, I think it has spiraled out of control for some time now. And, while those around me have witnessed its' descent, masking their disgust when forced to be a passenger, I have been only mildly embarassed or sickened by it. I have now hit rock bottom, but instead of becoming ridiculously thin (oh, Heaven forbid!), it is my car that needs to be brought back from the edge. My mother staged an impromptu intervention on Sunday. And, really, who else can you expect to call you out when a week old bagel with cream cheese languishes in the passenger side rear door's cargo compartment?

I don't drive a luxury vehicle. It's pretty much the most fuel efficient crossover I could find that would fit the three car seats across one back seat. And, I don't typically drive long distances; grocery store, karate lessons, library. But, for whatever reason, I always make sure my children have a snack and drink before we set off. Perhaps it's because I have 3 kids, each one a unique pain in the ass, and everyday I do whatever the hell I can to ensure, at the very least, a relatively peaceful car ride. Five fucking minutes without someone asking, or in the twins' case, whining for something. I realize now that I have created a monster with my on the go snacking, because not only do the wrappers from all of these not so healthy choices wind up on the floor, but the snacks and drinks do as well.

Chewed up gummy snacks have been stuck to my windows; the car mats are multi colored and littered with Goldfish, bits of donut, and french fries. There are crumbs deep in every crevice, and at this point, Ben's car seat buckle has had so many different treats spilled on it that you need to use the strength of Hulk Hogan to make it "click!".

And it's not just the fact that it's dirty. The trash is a shameful sort. Not apple cores and water bottles, but donut bags and empty soda cans, Happy Meal boxes and wrappers from Fruit Roll Ups and candy. Constant reminders of things that neither I nor my children should be eating.

We are not filthy people. With the help of a professional team, I keep a clean house. Although they may sometimes look a bit messy, and I a bit dissheveled, my children and I are bathed nearly every day or night, and I rarely leave the house without makeup. So why am I able to remain blind to my car's condition? I don't know. But, I will tell you this; I know I'm not alone.

My sister in law, who is one of the most fastidious people I know in terms of her and her home's appearance and condition once had a cup of her children's milk spill in her Suburban's third row seat. After a few days, the stench was almost enough to knock you out, and it lingered. Forever. Who lives like that?

As I was picking up my son's friend for a play date the other day, her mother instinctively reached for the Goldfish scattered on Ben's carseat, greatful for her good fortune, ready to chow down on a found snack. She stopped herself in the nick of time, but only because it wasn't her car. How is this behavior in any way acceptable? Have we all lost our fucking minds?

Beyond the mess there are even more problems hidden throughout the Vue. My car has always been relatively "off limits" to my husband. So, it made perfect sence to me that any purchases that could raise an eyebrow and elicit a "Did you really need that?" have always been stashed in my car, leaving behind their Hansel and Gretel trail of price tags, hangers, TJ Maxx and Marshalls bags, and those little plastic things that keep the tags on.

My CD collection, which has remained basically unchanged since, no fucking lie, 2004, except for the ones my mother burns for me resides in the Saturn as well. How fucking pathetic am I? I have my mother burn my CD's? Seriously.

My gas tank is always either empty or very empty, and I never get oil changes until the light is BLARING. Not just the nice indicator light that blinks when I first put the keys in, but then shuts itself off. "Hey, just letting you know, it's almost time. No big deal. Whenever, I won't bother you. You've got a lot going on right now." Oh no, the fire engine red light that constantly stays on, basically letting me know that my engine is going to fucking seize if I don't make it to Valvoline PRONTO.

It's shameful and it's lazy, but you will not find me pledging to change "once and for all" on this blog. No, I am aware of my limitations, and this is simply how I roll.


The Bean said...

Liz....I was laughing out loud reading this. Rob continually nags me to "show the vehicle some respect." I don't. When we went out to dinner together last Monday, we got in the car only to have the gas light on. Rob just kept saying "Gee...I hope we make it to the restaurant. I hope we don't run out of gas, etc., etc." just to piss me off. For me, the car is a mode of transportation and, if it gets destroyed by snackage, then so be it. It seems logical to just "carry in, carry out", but the fact of the matter is that, when I arrive home after errands with the kids, they have inevitably disrobed, left a litany of shit in their wake, both edible and non, and I am struggling to get their butts in the house without creating a public spectacle as I beat them. He he. You are SO NOT ALONE. Love you, chica!

Jen said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Jen said...

Here are my thoughts:

1. This reminds me of (lame reference coming up) the "Friends" episode wherein everyone discovers Monica's secret slob spot, her closet.
2. Secret eating is sooo good.
3. I ate some Cheerios off of the rug yesterday. I was cleaning up. Like a golden retriever.

Anonymous said...

Another good laugh! Thanks!

I too run low on gas and have food, water, wrappers, toys and lots other shit in my car. = )

Wanna hear a funny one ?
For like a YEAR; we could not find one of our HOUSE phones... Tony found it the other day. Now, I had thought that I accidently thru it away... SAD!!!

NO!!! It was in the side couch. NICE; real nice!

Pre-children. My house, my car, my life, my body was clean!!!!!!!!! Not sure I can say that still happens...

SO!!! You are SO NOT alone!
Carol Chione - YEAH I CAN"T remember my log in info = )

Anonymous said...

Let's just say the I keep my house clean comment should say my husband keeps my house clean and baths the kids...so now you know, the one item solely your resposiblity to clean is not clean...huh? Who would figure? Love you lots!

Kate said...

There is a leaf and a nickel on the floor of my backseat, and I think one of my birth control pills fell under the drivers seat. No kids! And yet, the last time your oldest son was in my car, he told me it was "a mess". Clearly he is Brett's son.