So a friend lives next door to me (well, we live on a big farm, so next door is about 3/4 mile down the road) and I recently had a conversation with her that made me start thinking about car seats and my love/hate relationship with them. My friend has a 3 year old grandson and he had been playing at our house for several hours. It was past his nap time and he did NOT want to go home. As she valiantly tried to cajole, reason, lovingly threaten him into his carseat, he decided it was his Waterloo. He might die right there in the driveway but, by God, he wasn’t getting into the car seat. We had this conversation:
Me: “why not just put him in the back seat and take him home?”
Friend: “he needs to get in his seat”
Me: “why? he’s obviously decided that car seat is a bridge to far – just toss him in the car and take him home”
Friend: “what is I get pulled over?”
Me: “seriously? if that big tree wasn’t behind the barn, I could SEE your house. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’ll get away with it – your driveway is right there.”
Friend: “I don’t know”
Me: “I’m going in the house”
They eventually left and I don’t know who won the war, but I put my money on the kid. I thought about when I was little, my Mom had a Chevy Nova with big bench seats and lap straps. But I never had to wear the lap belt, I just stood in the seat, slept in the back, and crawled around in the floorboard after lost cheetos. We all did. Nobody wore a seat belt. If you were in the front seat and your Mom had to hit the brakes, her right arm flew out and pinned you against the seat. I’m pretty sure Dads let you eat dashboard and then said “bet you’ll sit down from now on” or “don’t tell your Mother”.
Then, in the 80s, all the PSAs said 1) don’t do drugs and 2) wear your seat belt. So I tried the seat belt, but it rumpled my clothes and made me feel like I was choking. But back then, you could jam a dime in the shoulder strap guide and make it as loose as you wanted. I have always been a casual seat belt wearer. If there was a safety conscious person who nagged alot (like my sister) in the car, or if it was raining or I felt particularly unlucky that day – I would wear it. Usually, I didn’t. Then the government said I HAD to wear it and I’m all like “make me” so it became a battle of wills between me and The Man, which of course I won because I didn’t have a wreck and go through the windshield and no cops ever pulled me over.
One day I was off to Nashville from Mt. Juliet and about to grab my morning Arby’s blueberry muffin (those were so good, I wish they still had them) and some sweet tea when “BAM!!” some old lady in a buick pulled right across the turn lane into my lane and I hit her. It was when they first built up the Mt. Juliet exit and I was on Mt. Juliet Road trying to get onto Interstate 40. Well, I was actually trying to get across to the Arby’s. And the wreck wasn’t my fault, the policeman said so. But all I remember is seeing her little grandson looking at me out of the backseat of his grandmother’s car right before I rammed into the side of it pushing the door around his little chubby legs. But, it was OK, because she had him strapped in that Buick in some kind of early model car seat that seriously looked more like the cockpit of an Indy car than the plastic cushy jobs I see everyone using. Nothing touched him. She and I reached him at the same time, had some kind of female mind meld where we never said a word – she got him out and I checked him from head to toes for cuts or bruises. Then, when it was apparent he was OK, the three of us burst into tears and that’s how the cop found us. He asked me if I wanted him to ticket her for failure to yield, I said “oh Lord no”. Her insurance paid for my car, even refunded my deductible and, when the case was closed, we sent each other Christmas cards that year, I think it was a spontaneous gesture of thanksgiving that we were’t hurt and that baby boy was just fine.
So, I still resent the government telling me anything, but my Mom will tell you that I have resented anyone telling me anything since shortly after birth. I don’t understand car seats and it takes me forever to get a kid in them, but I can and I have. Although anyone close by will usually take over out of pity for the child. However, I can shut my eyes right now and see that boy, about 2 years old, gorgeous dark eyes and hair, and the look of casual interest he had as we locked eyes and my car smacked into his grandmother’s car right where he sat. And I can feel the gratitude of him being fine, just perfectly fine. And I can imagine the pain and guilt I, and his grandmother who clearly doted on him, would have and still suffered from if it had turned out different.
I never went to that Arby’s again for some strange emotionally damaged reason.
In my next article, I’m going to talk about the things you THOUGHT you knew about car seats but probably didn’t but I promise not to sound all preachy and self-satisfied about it.
Jennifer (guest blogging for Keith since he’s in trial)