One tough garage door

Maybe it was a full moon, maybe the planets weren't aligned correctly, I don't know, but I started the week on Monday by backing into my garage door ... while IN the garage.

I know, I know, how the heck does anyone do that? Well, it's like this. I was late leaving the house to pick up my two older girls from school, my phone was ringing as I'm loading up, and my 4-year old buckled in the backseat was insistently whining for a snack. I pushed the garage door opener hanging on my visor, started my truck, waited a few seconds and began to back out. I glanced once out the rear view mirror but completely mistimed the reverse and backed right into the lower panels of the garage door.

I heard a crunch and quickly shifted to drive and pulled forward. After shifting to park, I jumped out to go see if I damaged my truck or the garage door, all the while pondering how, or if, I was going to tell my husband. The truck looked fine and thanks to our garage door being built in 1982, when they made things that lasted, it was solid wood, so it only suffered a tiny dent and was pushed just a hair off skew. I was feeling pretty good at that point, thinking my sweet, forgiving husband won't even notice this. I am good to go.

I had decided to just wait it out and see if he saw the dent in the garage door, or if it would be weeks, months or even years before he noticed it, or if ever. We bought the house used, so there are lots of dings and dents in several locations so maybe he'll pass right by it and never think twice. Plus, he's said since day one of living here, that we need a new garage door, so no big deal. Plus, my 4 year old was focused strictly on where her snack was when it happened, so no fear of tattling on me either. I was free and clear! Whew!

However, before dinner time was even over, I couldn't stand it any longer and blurted it all out. I don't know if it was the nice prayer he just said as all five of us were gathered around our dinner table or the sweet faces of my three daughters thanking me for their delicious meal, but I cracked. "It was me, I'm sorry, it was my fault! I backed into the garage door. I'm sorry!" I pleaded. He looked up from his plate and stared blankly at me before saying, "Oh, I thought the girls did it."

What?! First of all, he'd only been home an hour and he already seen the damage? The dent is on the inside of the garage door. What, did he go in the garage with the door closed and circle my truck for some odd reason? He doesn't even park in there. Secondly, he thought the girls did it and he wasn't even mad? So I could have just pawned it off on them?

He didn't even get the chance to ask how I did it, when I quickly began ranting about how busy I am and how, in the afternoons, I try to time our youngest daughter's nap time to work out with picking up our older two from school, which is a trick all in itself.

I carried on exclaiming how I practically have to sit down with a calculator and an atomic clock, and figure out the exact second to put her to bed, then determine how long she'll nap based on what time she got up in the morning and how tired she's acting, to ensure she'll wake up just in time to throw some shoes on, grab a snack and leave no later than 3:27 p.m. And how, that day, she didn't wake up and I had to throw her in the truck straight from her nap, and my phone started ringing at 3:26, and I forgot to put the dogs in the pen, so had to run outside and so on, and so on.

"I must be losing my mind. I'm sorry," I said shaking my head. Then I asked him, "How'd you even see it?" He answered, "I didn't see any dent. The door's bulging a little on the outside." "We need a new garage door anyways, don't worry about it," he reassured me. Then we both laughed at how ridiculous that was of me and how I may actually be losing my mind. We also agreed that if it would have been a new style garage door, I probably would have backed right threw it or ripped it right off the track. However, thanks to my old, tough garage door, all is well in our house!