Mum, where’s our car?

Mum, where’s our car?

It is 4:32am and I am on my own in the lounge with a breast pump trying to deal with a blocked milk duct before I end up with mastitis. I might be making it worse to be honest but I feel that I have to do something rather than lie in bed trying to sleep without putting any weight on the painful side.

Yesterday I discovered that my car had been stolen and we cannot afford to replace it. The week before it was stolen we spent £400 getting it through it’s MOT. With two younglings in a village with crap public transport (a bus once an hour if you’re lucky) I just can’t convey how important the little old car was to me.

I really did struggle using buses when Audrey was a baby. It was not so much getting out but coming home that was always the issue. Sometimes with a child of any age you need to just be able to get home fast. The buses in the afternoon always seemed to be the ones that were impossible to wheel a pushchair on. A scheduled bus would often not turn up and we would have to wait in the cold at the bus stop up to an hour for the next one.

I always felt so guilty waiting there at the bus stop with Audrey. I’d feel guilty for not being able to drive, guilty for taking her out and just guilty that even though I was her Mum I just couldn’t do anything about us having to wait out in the cold for the sodding bus.

Some days I would avoid it altogether and we would just stay at home. This was fine if we had someone coming over to play or maybe the village toddler group to go to but there were many days when I just longed to go out and couldn’t and would think how much easier it would be if I could just jump in a car and drive us to wherever we wanted to go.

When I passed my test and got my little car it was like a different life. We could do anything at any time without the worry about getting the bus home or getting stuck anywhere. We could go to places that were nowhere near a bus route like little farms with cafes, new playgrounds, friends houses and the beach. I could go to the supermarket whenever I wanted and if we ever needed to just get straight home it was no problem.

That is what someone took from me when they took my car. Now with the two kids I just feel awful about it all. Somehow I feel guilty about it. I let someone steal my car, from right outside my house. How could I have let this happen?

I keep thinking through the logistics of how I will manage without a car. I know I can do it because I’ve had to manage without it before. I am good at managing without things but it is just so fucking tiring and I am so fucking angry that someone took our fucking fucking car.

Anyway, I really need to get to sleep now. All the birds are starting to wake up outside.