I’ve been having really bad luck lately, which all seems to be car related, which also all seems to be somewhat my own fault. OK, maybe entirely my fault – this pregnancy brain thing is REAL, no matter what “science” might have to say about it. “Science” also says alcohol is bad for you and we all know THAT’S not true. But seriously, pregnancy brain plus bad luck is the worst thing ever.

On Wednesday, I did my daily morning juggle of baby-water-bottle-purse-yoga-mat-stroller out to the car minivan only to discover the doors were locked and my keys weren’t in my purse. I dragged everything back inside and spent 10 minutes tearing apart the kitchen to find my keys before I remembered I put them in my other purse. THEN I remember I had just seen my other purse. On the floor of the car minivan. The locked one. So instead of a morning workout followed by an hour or two of playground time followed by a nice afternoon nap, I spent my day trying to entertain Screamy McScreamerson, King of the Split Personality who thinks smacking you in the face just so he can kiss the boo is HI-LAR-I-OUS.

Thursday was better. Besides the screaming match E and I got into about what the definition of “on top of the stroller” is. True story – we might be the first people to ever put “irreconcilable differences re: stroller anatomy” on our divorce petition.

On Friday afternoon I needed to run to the post office and finally mail those Lbaggies to my giveaway winners (sorry it took so long guys, they’re on the way!) so I left E with a napping baby and hopped in the van. As I was backing down the driveway I thought I felt a little…lopsided. Normally, being the super-responsible very automobile knowledgeable person I am, I would have convinced myself I was imagining things and run my errand anyway. But this time I got out and looked at my front left tire. My totally – TOTALLY – flat front left tire. Flat like a pancake. Flat like a board. Flat like my chest in the eighth grade when I bought that bathing suit with the built in cups and then couldn’t go in the water for fear they might collapse.

It was really flat. It sort of looked like it might have been flat for a while.

And then I remembered how the car scraped on the bump pulling into the driveway.

And then I remembered how the car scraped on the bump pulling out of the Wendy’s drive thru.

And then I remembered how the car sort of…pulled to the left on the way TO playgroup.

And then I remembered the “low tire pressure” light that’s been on pretty much since we bought the car.

I am a genius. And pretty lucky I (probably) didn’t permanently damage my axle. Or cause an accident.

In my defense, the light was on when we actually bought the car and the guy said “Oh it’s just because of the temperature. Once the weather cools down you’ll be fine.” Which is why I yelled “The salesman said it was OK! Tell them he’s a lying liar!!” in the background while E talked the dealership into replacing our OBVIOUSLY PREVIOUSLY PATCHED tire for free. I’m going in at 8 am today to sit in the waiting room with a hyperactive toddler for probably several hours until the mechanic tells me they don’t even have that tire in stock so they’ll have to special order it and can I come back in two weeks? And bee tee double-you, that’ll be $150.

Did I mention the part where the van FELL OFF THE JACK while E was changing the flat and I had to call AAA to come with their special heavy-duty jack? Or the part where the van FELL OFF THAT ONE TOO? Apparently the jacking mechanism is all…jacked-up.

Maybe the universe is telling me to just stay home. Which is the kind of advice I think I should follow – as soon as I go to the store for chocolate ice cream jelly beans milk and bread.