As I type this, I'm keeping my fingers crossed (typing with crossed fingers is difficult, maybe I'll cross my toes). I'm not usually superstitious, but I'm sitting in the local Audi dealership while my 2007 Q7 (with 104,300 miles on it) is in the service center getting new brakes, a new brake light, a recall repair, and hopefully a good bill of health. I love my Q7 and I don't want anyone to say anything derogatory about it, especially a service tech after he looks under the hood. Those types of conversations are expensive. I do have a "Mature Audi" coupon to get 10% off this service, so there's that. I'm mature driving a mature Audi. Damn. This day is starting to get rough.
I don't want to admit it, but the phrase "Happy Mom, Happy Family" is, in fact, true. I don't want to admit that my mood swings (which can shift with the wind) affect my family. As our kids get older, I get smarter -- or less stubborn -- and I can now admit that most of the familial happiness revolves around me. I also never wanted to admit that I'm a control freak, but I am. I'll let my husband be in charge of the car radio when he drives, but God save him if he reaches for the dial when I'm driving. Maybe my car's vanity plates should read "Scorpio" instead of "CarMama."
