Oh the sad sorry thing we call "van"

Those avid readers of this blog will remember that a few weeks ago, while in Cali, Wes did a good job of junking out my van. Well, I didn't want to plaster his van whoops all over this blog and not even mention my own, more recent whoops...So, here it is. For those that have not been to our place, this is where I have to park my van everyday:

Now, I was not fond of this spot, as I am notoriously a horrible parker. I swore that I would never park the van there the whole year we lived here! But, within the first month or so, I practiced and practiced getting into our spot without hitting any of the obstacles around (other cars, poles, garages...). It is a ridiculously small parking lot. But I finally got good at it. Too good in fact. I was better at parking there then Wes was after a while. That's where the big problems came in. I got comfortable, nay cocky about my excellent parking, and because of my cockiness and my hurry to park the other day, this is what the side of my van looks like now:Good thing it's a very sturdy pole, huh?!You should have seen poor Armour when I hit it. He was sitting in the seat right by the door (no worries-there isn't even any denting-just scratches and paint transfer, so he was unscathed). But he was a bit surprised at the knock and the loud noise! The other two were like, "Oh, mommy! I knew you should have let dad do that." Isn't it the worst when your kids think you can't do something well, and you prove them right over and over?! CRAZY!!!