Fender Frustration

I got into a fender bender today. It was one of those moments when you feel this weight sink inside you and you wish you could rewind just that one second. The woman driving was, nicely put, a cougar. She was an attorney, and even though the "scratch" on her fender came off on my finger, she seemed determined to claim damages on her Mercedes. I was more frustrated at myself than anything else. This happened on the tails of me getting our car towed last Friday when I parked in a "No Stopping" zone. I swear, I feel like since I had Greyson, my brain has been, for lack of a better word: scattered. I am in permanent multi-tasking mode which is a good thing when you have to carry a child, make his breakfast, answer the phone, answer a few emails, and do laundry in intervals of minutes, more or less at the same time. The problem arises when I am away from Greyson, and I still can't quite gather the multiple departments of my brain and construct consolidated thoughts. The ironic thing is that during both of these vehicular mishaps, Greyson wasn't even with me (thankfully). On both occasions I was out and about, attempting albeit unsuccessfully to enjoy my nanny time.

I just want to crawl into bed and pretend this didn't happen. There are worser things, I know that. It's just money, and that's replaceable. All in all, Roque is in the next room working, Greyson is asleep soundly in his room. My family is under one roof, safe, close and healthy. Nothing is more important than that, no matter how it feels.