1985 ford tempo

I used to neck with my boyfriend in a 1985 ford tempo. It was gray with a maroon interior. It had a faded theodoore roosevelt high school parking sticker on it and some little teddy bear thing hung around the rear view mirror. It was scrupulously clean. He spent a lot of time washing it. Hours at a time. He had lots of special sponges and rags to clean the car and lots of dedicated cleaning products. I found this very interesting because at our house we would just fill a bucket with Palmolive and wash the dirt off. But not this guy. He would armour-all the dash and even had this special spray he would put on the tires that made them shiny. I didn't realize you needed to wash the tires of a car, but that is because I drive a "trash can on wheels" as Hyphen likes to put it.

Anyway, I used to go over to his house and help him wash his car (this was in the early 90s, when people still washed their own cars). I am a very "when in rome" type of person, and so I figured as long as I was dating this guy, I might as well help him wash his car, even though my 1986 La Baron was full of drink cups, general filth and said "wash me" on the back. Sometimes he would wash my La Baron, which was nice of him. Then he would always say something like "try to keep it clean this time." Afterwards, we would drive over to the Diamond Shamrock on Austin Highway. He said that out of all the nearby gas stations, this one was the cheapest and he would gas up his car for 95 cents a gallon and then get a big gulp like drink. He would ask me if I wanted one and I would say no, because it was really too much soda for me and I didn't want to be rude and ask for something of someone who drove out of his way to find the cheapest gas he could to fill up his car. (I was somewhat spoiled, having a gas card that my parents paid for.) So I would always say to him "no, I'll just have a little sip of yours." He would laugh and smile in way that I knew he found me endearing and would always finish the "little sip of yours" part of the sentence with me.

That was a long time ago. I am thinking of that car now, tonight, to help me get through this night of mom ping-pong. It is a new game being played at our house, where one child needs me and then the other child needs me and before I finish with one properly and meet her needs the other starts to cry and then the cry turns into a scream and I leave the child I am trying to make comfortable and happy to tend to the one that is making noise. And just when I calm the noisy one down, the first one who was almost calm before I left her, starts to cry again. Ping Pong, get it? It is weird though--God has given me some kind of freakish mom endorphins that are getting me through the game calmly and serenely, and in the end, the ball wins the match with two peaceful, sleeping children as her trohpies.

My husband is sitting on his chair watching the game. He says he needs to rest and cannot help. I am really not sure who he is right now. I asked him for a sip of his drink and he said not to touch it. My van, though, is uncharacteristically clean, and I have tried to keep it clean, this time, for a few days now.