Adventures in Poverty

I try to be very careful with our money. I have to, because there isn't a lot of it around right now. But every now and then, I drop the ball.

This morning, I got in the car to drive Drama Queen to summer school and low and behold, my poor little Hotyssey was on E. My main concern was time, since we were running late, but I got her to school and pulled into the gas station just as the little light came on. Whew!

Or not.

The tank rejected my card! ARGH! This station has tricky pumps and I sort of shrugged it off. Got us across the street, but AMPM said, "Nu-uh, honey, no money, no gas," which if that's the case why does Ramen, the staple of poverty, make you fart? Sorry, still having those middle school moments. So I was all, "WHAAAA? I know we're not rolling Trump-style, but I should have at least enough to buy a tank of gas!" We took a trip across the street, my children wailing that they were starving to death and me ignoring them while I pulled into the ATM parking lot. It confirmed what the gas pumps had told me, which convinces me that the machines have entered into a huge conspiracy to take over the world.

Yes, I did, in fact, watch Eagle Eye last night. Why do you ask?

We managed to get home, the gas icon glowering at me like some evil portent of doom. Those poor little babies got fed their breakfast, watched some PBS and bickered like little hamsters while I scrambled around ad got us ready for story time at the library. I emptied my change jar into a ziploc, hoping I had enough gas to get me to the library and then to the grocery store, where I could magically transform these shiny bits of metal into actual paper money! Whoo! Even better, this grocery store had a gas station attached!

You may pause here and ask why I did not simply use change to buy the gas. I have no good answer for that, aside from the fact that I am stupid.

We had a lovely time at the library and park, but the kids were less than happy when Mommy announced it was time to leave. I bundled the flailing little wrecks of humanity into the car (thank-you God for car seats and five point harness restraints!) and took off. Released them again, this time only loosely contained by a shopping cart, and entered the store, only to find their coin sorter was out of commission. *insert panicked whimpering here*

Did I have enough gas to get to the next grocery store? As it turns out, yes I did. Did they have an operational coin machine? No, they didn't. The panicked whimpering was now a constant mental scream of "ohhellnoIcannotrunoutofgaswithtwotiredandhungrychildreninmycarandnolorazapaninmypurse."
Red is screaming because we're leaving the store without buying anything and Missy is whining that she is SO THIRSTY her throat feels like the sandbox. Mommy is trying very hard not to cry.

(Let me ask you something here: are mine the only children that develop severe hunger whenever anyone stops and enters any sort of store where food might be purchased, including, but not limited to: grocery stores, gas stations and fast food restaurants? I swear I feed them at home, but if you drove anywhere with us, you would be hard-pressed to believe me.)

God hears the plea of a desperate woman. There was another grocery store across the street, with an operational coin machine AND a gas station. The magic of the coin machine hypnotized the rug rats into forgetting they were very angry with me and VOILA! a paper receipt that promised I will not in fact be broken down on the side of the road appeared. I cashed it out, got my gas and went upon my merry way.

OH! And a plastic bin of cut up watermelon magically appeared to ease my children's agony! Okay, not really. I had packed it as a snack and, in my fuel anxiety, forgotten about it, but really, the miracle of watermelon make a much better ending to the story, don't you think?