Okay, so I’m a grandma. Who cares. I still need my Daddy every now and again. Yes, I still call him Daddy.
On Saturday I was taking my youngest daughter to ballet for her first dress rehearsal and pictures for their performance next month. I waited for a large SUV to pull into a parking space and then stopped to drop my daughter off at the door of the studio. Next thing I know the SUV had started backing up and hit my car. Luckily it was going slowly and just bumped the back door on the passenger side and my daughter was exiting on the opposite side of the car.
I get out of my car to talk to the driver of the SUV only to discover that it is one of the dance instructors. She is driving her husband’s car which is 3x the size of her car and she cannot see out the back window because she is not tall enough. (I have similar problems.) We exchange information and she realizes who I am. “Oh! I hit the M*s Aunt!” (My sister-in-law does the costumes, her oldest daughter is an instructor and two other daughters dance).
No one is hurt, apologies are exchanged and accepted. I get into my car and go wait for my daughter’s class to end.
While this is really no big deal, I am reacting very badly to any stressful situations. By the time I got home I was exhausted and feeling very anxious. I laughed about the situation and assured everyone that I was physically fine, but emotionally I was a bit of a wreck. Thbbbbbbbbbbbbb! (Blowing raspberries.)
Now comes the stress of dealing with insurance, repairs, etc. I am not up to this and just the though is causing me to have serious anxiety issues.
My Daddy is the best. I go talk with him about the car (we share cars and insurance) and ask him if he will deal with the insurance. “Of course,” he says.
I love my Daddy. He has always been there for me when I’m having difficulties. All I have to do is ask.