By Jamie Miles
Columnist
 
Womanhood comes with two perks, inerrant intuition and the prerogative to change one’s mind. A double-Xer myself, I firmly believe in both, especially after a recent turn of events.

Not long ago, my children and I left Bostwick after swimming at a friend’s pool. I chose not to pull my dry clothing over my wet bathing suit. The thought of sitting in a soggy bathing suit seeping dampness into perfectly dry clothes was downright awful – and I refused to experience such. Then intuition voice Number One whispered, “Grab a towel. What if you have to get out of the car?” So I threw a towel on the passenger seat if the need arose to stop on Highway 83 to change a tire or pick wildflowers.

On the trip to town, intuition voice Number Two began to insist, “Seatbelts.” Looking back, my four-year-old seemed to be standing in the rear of the car. I sternly asked if he was out of his belt. (He was prone to unbuckle.) “No!” was the reply. Voice Number Two constantly nagged at me, so I asked my daughter, “Hannah Kate, make sure Joe is buckled in.” She assured me that he was.

Turning into our driveway, another car struck our vehicle from behind. In an uncanny twist, our car lifted up, rolled and came to rest on its side in our driveway. Once we stopped, I looked back and thankfully saw my two screaming children dangling by their seatbelts unharmed. As I climbed through the topsy-turvey vehicle trying to calm them, a thought rocketed through my tousled brain…“Good grief, woman! You’re in your bathing suit!”

It might be dandy to expose your midlife torso and thighs on a beach packed with utter strangers and perfectly fine in a friend’s backyard, but neither of these scenarios depicted a middle-aged, bikini-clad mom emerging from the sunroof of her listing Suburban into chaos on her front yard.  Every manner of rescue vehicle, dozens of concerned bystanders, police officers, firemen, streaming 441 weekend traffic, and me in a blue bikini.  Finally, voice Number One reemerged amidst all the commotion and nudged, “Remember the towel. It’s in the front seat.” I stumbled over and grabbed Minnie Mouse, thankful to have her terrycloth-self to wrap around my body.

Of course, I was most grateful that everyone involved was all right, and obviously, this was not a laughing matter. But I did learn a few very important things.  Listen to your intuition. Double-check that seatbelts are fastened -- no trip is too short. And I’ve changed my opinion on the sensation of pulling on dry clothing over a wet bathing suit. You know, it’s probably not such a terrible thing."