I have now been pregnant for 25 weeks (officially). During those 25 weeks, at some point, I should have figured out how to manage my out of control emotions... Angie was here to visit for the weekend, and I spent most of the weekend ecstatically happy to be in the company of my freind. After she flew back home to Minnesota, I went to Midas to get my brakes fixed. I had called two weeks before to make the appointment and get a ballpark idea of the cost, just to make sure there was enough money in the ol' checkbook.
The very nice gentleman in the shop took my keys, accepted my coupon (just call me Janet), remined me it would be $20 for the inspection and then they would be out to provide an estimate of the total cost for parts and labor. I made myself comfortable with the copy of Belly Laughs (Jenny McCarthy) that Angie had brought for me, and waited it out. A guy about my age came out about a 1/2 hour later and started to explain things while we walked back to the Xterra on its lift. He said that the problem wasn't actually the breaks, it was the ball bearings and also he noticed that all three belts were bad. With the bravest face I could muster, I asked, in my bravest, I can control myself voice "this is more expensive then the brakes, isn't it?". He nodded as pointed down at his price sheet to show me two possible scenarios. On the right, if they had to replace the ball bearings, on the left, if they could work around them. Trying to make light of the tears that just WOULD NOT STOP rolling out of my eyes I asked why this never happend when we were rolling in money (not that I know what it is like to roll in money). The poor mechanic politely laughed at my attempted joke (probably trying to visulize what it would be like to see a pregnant lady "roll" anywhere), and I excused myself to call Jeremiah. When I emerged from the bathroom, face mostly dry of my tears, I gave the go ahead for the $600 plus project. And then before I could start my hysterics all over again, I made my brave face again and headed out the door to the nearest book store to drown my sorrows in someone else's troubles.
Halfway through my Janet Evanovich book the manager of Midas called to say the money pit was road ready and I could pick it up anytime. I calmly picked my jacket and purse out of my comfy chair, placed my book back on the shelf, vowed to actually control myself this time, readied my credit card and crossed the street to the garage.
The young mechanic saw me coming from across the parking lot and shouted, "Hey Kelley, we were able to save you a lot of money!!" A wildly optimistic grin spit my face open as I thanked him and made my way into the office. The manager was waiting for me and explained how they were able to use the old ball bearings safely and how it would only cost about 1/2 the price. He said he had seen the tear in my eye and he promised that they were going to work with me and this is the option that they came up with (safely). I stammered an apology and said that I hadn't meant not to pay them what they were worth, and he assured me it was a fine solution. I thanked him repeatedly handed over the credit card and made it back to the car before I broke into giggles and tears again. Giggles at my pregnant, out of control emotions (I NEVER cry to get what I want...I usually flirt), and tears at the relief and kindness of the guys at Midas.
If anyone has figured out how to control pregnant emotions...I'll take the advice!