I used to love my Volkswagen....

but we had a bit of a falling out when it decided to shut down at the crest of a hill on an 8-lane highway yesterday. I was in the middle lane, of course, and my first few seconds of disbelief (wtf? What is going on? Why won't the car respond?) were slowly replaced by my mind realizing that we were in the middle lane of 60-plus mph traffic with absolutely no way out. I put on the flashers. I tried to take deep breaths.

I looked in the back seat -- Reni, hungry and tired, was already complaining, and Ani didn't respond too well to my "OMG WTF is going on!!!" yells -- and saw so many vehicles hurling for us that I panicked. I somehow found my phone and dialed up Armando, screamed something unintelligible, and nearly got into a marital spat were it not for the fact that my phone decided it would join in the fun and also die on me. I revived it enough to dial 911, but don't remember anything about that conversation except screaming that I was stuck, couldn't get out of the car, couldn't leave my kids in this position, and GODHELPMEPLEASE. Then my phone battery really died. And I thought, ok. I am an adult. I am responsible for these amazing kids. I have to do something. I can't move the car. I can't get the kids out of the car. I can't stop this much traffic without risking getting hurt and therefore exposing the kids to greater danger. I can't do shit.

That's when the semi almost hit us, and sent traffic splitting around us. I remember horns honking and people giving me the stink eye as they sped by (yes, that is true, and no, no one stopped) and I thought, my god, we could die. That cannot happen, these kids are too precious and they have only been here a short while. First, like an idiot, I looked at Anika and screamed, "Pray, Anika! Pray that we'll be ok!" She of course freaked out and started screeching. So I jumped out of the car, hugging the bumper with my butt and spreading my arms out as if somehow superpowers would help me stop traffic. I actually thought about how nice it would be if I could fly and lift very heavy objects. I contemplated climbing to the roof of the car but didn't want to risk falling into traffic. I saw no way out, and even though we were only stuck in the middle of the highway for about 3 minutes, it felt like hours. Both kids were screaming and I'm pretty sure I was screaming too. There was a Jiffy Lube a few blocks up but they were too far away to hear or see me unless they were really looking in our direction. That's when we nearly got hit for the second time -- mind you, just being there meant we had a kazillion close calls, but this one was the scariest moment of my life -- and all of the commotion finally clued the Jiffy Lube people in to what was going on. I saw one man looking in our direction, then there was a crowd. They came out holding hands like a bucket brigade, stopped traffic (and actually had to explain to some people that I had babies in the car -- because most people were just mad at me, for chrissake, for being in their friggin' way) and told me to get back in the car and put it in neutral. They pushed me to the right-hand lane, and kept pushing until they had me safely onto the side street next to their shop. That's when I started crying and shaking.

Somehow we got the car to the parking lot, and somehow the kids and I ended up inside their building, staring at the road outside through my tears as a big burly man held Reni and watched him smile and as Anika held a vice-grip around my neck. Armando showed up with one of the contractors working on our yard (the VW is our only car at the moment) and I started bawling again.

So.

Yesterday I got home and looked at things in a new light. Might sound silly, but all the little things -- the laundry I'd left to fold for later, the dirt and dust piles by the doorways, Anika's little Burt and Ernie figurines staring at us from where she'd perched them on the coffee table -- brought tears to my eyes again. We are alive, and I am grateful.