Feats of Brute Strength

I'm scrappy.

I may look dainty and weak, but underneath my tiara, I am surprisingly strong.  A couple of weeks ago as I was going to Bible study, I decided I needed the stroller out of the back of my SUV.   So, like I always do, I hopped out of the car, went around back and pulled on the handle of the door.  .  .and, that is when the latch snapped.  That's right people, I rendered the back hatch of my SUV completely useless.  (I believe John's words when he saw it were something to the effect of "Oh, wow, you completely broke it."  Apparently, he doubts my brute strength!)  I have been assured that John will be able to fix it once we get the replacement part.  But, until then, I am condemned to getting Carys' stroller in and out of my car through the wayback window - something to me that feels much like what it must be to help birth a calf!  Cora finds the whole process hi-larious.  Though on the plus side, each time I get the stroller out, I know that my arms get a little workout (as if I need it?!  hah!)

Flash forward to stroller shopping this week.  (And on a totally unrelated tangent, please understand how hard it has been for me to accept the fact that rather than pushing around a nice little compact stroller, I will now be commandeering what is in effect a small bus.  I have long standing, deep seated psychological issues with large strollers.  I will be seeking out counseling for this, but in the meantime. . .)  After researching and pricing double strollers on the internet, we went to a kids' store to see the beasts in person.  And, after seeing them in person and hating every minute of it, I decided that if I must have a double stroller, I will not be paying over $300 for it!  And, thankfully, God heard my (admittedly selfish) prayer.  I found the exact stroller I was looking for on Craigslist for less than half price - a much easier (although still giant) pill to swallow.  The girls and I picked up the stroller earlier this week.  Here's where I really began to regret my incredible strength. . . I met the mommy in the parking lot of a local gym, inspected the stroller and paid for it.  And then the thought occurred to me that I might not be able to get the stroller into the car.  (Thinking things through might not be one of my strong suits!)  So, if getting the single stroller out of the car is akin to helping to birth a cow, putting the double stroller in the car is much like shoving that calf back in!  You'll be relieved to know that I did get the stroller in the car.  It wasn't a pretty sight, but it worked.

So now, I am the (not so) proud owner of my very own large stroller.  Here's a pic of what I scored.

Carys's carseat will attach to the back seat, and Cora will commandeer the front row.  Lovely!  I would love to show you a picture of the girls in the stroller, but I am not about to attempt to rebirth that cow!  You'll just have to take me word that we (and our small bus) are living in harmony happily ever after.