Today was my one day of the week alone with Sam. He's at that delightful age - nearly 3 - where he really looks forward to spending time alone with me. So after 'Play School' finished on the telly, we headed into town to buy him some new gumboots. Knowing our trip would be quick, I took a punt and parked in a secret (and free) carpark I've used many a time. There were plenty of places available so we parked and set off on our little adventure.
Now the lawyer in me understood its import. But I also knew the carpark was never patrolled and we'd be returning quickly. Free parking = bonus.
Mission accomplished and Sammy wearing his spiffy new boots, we returned to the car at 11.15 am.
Ours is the gold station wagon to the right.
It's not the black-hatchback-parked-haphazardly-only-10 cm-behind our towbar.
Yes, we were parked only about 5cm away from the concrete wall.
Which meant, my friends, that we were inextricably wedged in!
Horrified, I raced back to the black car and assessed that it looked like a family car (with all those little stickers you can buy to represent your family members - know the ones?), parked hurriedly on an angle. Hopefully that meant the driver was a harried mom who'd be returning soon.
I informed Sam. He took it in his stride and agreed to wait for the 'silly' lady with me.
However, she didn't appear.
At 1 pm, I rang Mr PB at work and filled him in. He (sensibly) suggested we get out and buy some lunch, leaving a note under the car's wiper blade with my mobile number, requesting the driver to call me when they returned to their car.
But my phone didn't ring. Sammy, having a rare treat of some hot chips for lunch, wasn't overly concerned. I was trying to keep calm and not let him see my rising anxiety (which wasn't helped by the fact that I hadn't been able to take my lunchtime medication which was at home, of course).
We returned to the car, Sammy splashing in puddles in his new gumboots all the way.
And the car was still there.
I removed my note and we retreated to the car where we waited. And waited. And waited.
Sam, for one of the first times in his life, missed his 1-2.30 pm nap. Having Mummy's undivided attention was too exciting to be missed by sleeping! So he nattered away, we sang silly songs, made funny sounds, pulled crazy faces and watched the birds flittering about.
Desperate to do something useful with my time, I grabbed pen and paper and started a little blog planning (I use that term very loosely - not much was achieved with my chatty toddler interrupting me every two seconds!). I started answering a question someone had left on my survey.
And the time ticked on.
By this stage, my anxiety levels were rising. We were almost parked in on both sides as well so claustrophobia was starting to set in. We called Mr PB intermittently, repeating the "nothing to report" line. Ad nauseum.
By this stage, it was 1.45 pm. India needed to be collected from school at 2.30 pm and Joshie at 2.50 pm. I called on the cavalry and my father-in-law scooted over to their school to pick them up.
By this stage, Sam's imagination was flagging. I managed to find him a game to play on my ancient Nokia phone which occupied him for a while.
By this stage it was 4.30 pm. Joshie's soccer practice was finished so my father-in-law took the children home. But thanks to all the gardening Mr PB and I have been doing, they couldn't find the spare key tucked away. It was getting dark and cold.
Finally Mr PB left work and raced home to let them in.
Meanwhile, as 5 pm knock-off time passed, most of the carpark emptied. Except for our rear neighbor.
We were both feeling a *little* stir-crazy by now. I kept counting my lucky stars that Sam only had a wet nappy and nothing worse. Because, of course, we didn't have any spares and the shops had all closed.
Finally, at 5.45 pm, a whole 6½ hours later, our knight-in-shining-armour (Mr PB) arrived. Just as he was about to swap cars with us so we could head home, a lady told us that the dratted car was owned by the lady who ran the shop across the road.
Mr PB scooted over there to beg her to move her car.
But she took her own sweet time.
Finally she appeared at 6 pm, hopped into her car and drove off.
Not a word was exchanged.
Mr PB and Sam returned to our freed car and I drove the other car home to be greeted by two concerned and hungry pixies. Grandpa then left and we bustled about, trying to get out evening back on track, especially as Mr PB was due to start at his second job at 7 pm.
So, how's that for a shocker of a day?! I will never use that carpark again - I've learnt my lesson. Fair cop.
Even so, I thought the woman could have shown a *smidgen* of compassion to me, seeing me standing there in the cold, juggling my toddler on my hip.
Have any of you ever been caught in such a predicament? I hope I'm not the only ninny out there!
And guess what I'm doing tomorrow morning - stashing an 'emergency care pack' in the car!