to stop, or not to stop?

I had Mini use my phone to text Coach to let him know that the party was cancelled and we were on our way to Indianapolis.  He knew we were planning to drive to Indy Friday night AFTER the grad party, because the girls danced on Saturday.  Later he admitted that the text message we sent from the frantic car didn’t communicate (to him - anyone else probably would have understood it.  Just saying) that we were racing to get to the competition.  He didn’t understand our urgency or the fact that Mini was going to compete after all.  

The closer we got to Indy the more I recognized a couple of immediate needs.  The car needed gas.  I needed to use the bathroom.  My first goal was to arrive to the competition in time for Mini to dance.  Pit stops might jeopardize our ultimate goal.   

So this has nothing to do with my full tank or my car's empty tank.  I am not feeling inspired to come up with a photo for either situation.  This is my new Addidas bag.  I love it, and I am thrilled that I got it on sale.  In fact it was marked down so low, that I got one for Mini too.  In all the craziness, I THOUGHT that I had packed this bag.  I meant to.  When we unloaded our car at the hotel we looked all thru the car for this bag.  I kept insisting that I had packed it.  Really I had no idea what I packed and what I didn't.  I was quite happy when I got home and my bag was still there.  

We sent another text to Coach.  I informed him how long the low fuel light had been on and how many more miles we had to drive.  He texted back that it made sense to get gas.  That was not the answer I was hoping for.  We were almost there.  Was it my imagination or was the car starting to shake?  I was overly tuned in to every creak and rattle.  Were we about to run out of gas?

We pulled into a gas station where I quickly pumped a whopping $4 of gas into the tank.  I started longingly at the building, but I didn’t dare search out the public restroom.  The clock was ticking.

The dancing venue ended up being about 3 blocks from the gas station.  We devised a plan as we pulled up.  I would drop the girls off at the main door before I parked.  Curly would stop at registration and get Mini’s number.  Mini would run to her stage to see how soon her group would dance.  

There was a little pandemonium because the competitions had moved to different stages.  Literally unheard of, but why not have that happen today?  Mini was flustered when I got in the door.  Once I helped her find her actual stage, we saw that she was not too late to dance.  Her competition wouldn’t be dancing for at least 20 minutes.  I hurried off to the bathroom.  

We made it- in more ways than one. I must mention that another dance mom friend of mine was out front when we pulled up.  ‘I just got a ticket on my way here,.’  Ouch.  Been there, done that.  Ticket I mean - never on the way to a dancing competition.  Strange but true.