Ding-Dong, the table from Hell

When I left my impromptu visit with family-friend Kathy and re-entered the world of racing-around-to-get-it-all-done on Dec. 23rd, I called home.  

I had hoped that the ping pong table gift would be a surprise for all the kids, but after witnessing the forklift plus 4 men struggling to fit it in my car, I now knew I needed to enlist Lad and Ed.  Coach would be at work till almost 9 pm.  I told Mini that Tank should drive her around to deliver the popcorn that people ordered from her B-ball team fundraiser.  The 2 little guys were at a friend’s house.  That mom was fine with them staying till I got ping pong hidden.

Plan C:  moving in the dark of night. 
Don't worry neighbors, we are not
ransacking our own home.  Besides if you
 saw my kitchen pics from my last post - you
would know that anyone who tries to rip
 us off will shrug and retreat, fearing
 someone has beat them to it.

All went as planned, but the two oldest and I could not budge the thing.  Not even an inch.  Plan C:  Lad and Ed call friends as reinforcements ask them to meet us at 8:45 when Coach would come home.  I sent Tank on another wild goose chase, which included stopping at my folks’ house where my Mom agreed to stall him.  Then he would pick up the other kids (Mini was now hanging out at that same house), and the Mom agreed to stall on her end and text me updates as well. 

I later learned that the dad, a conversation king (Hi, George), had hopped in my kids' car to chat with them.  When the mom texted me this, I relaxed.  He could compete with me for long-winded-ness and he might win!  Much later, when I saw my kids, Mini whispered to me that the dad had actually said to them, 'You know how it is kids, it's Christmas . . . I've been sent here to stall.'  Mini about died, but she insisted that his sharing of that truth went over Curly's head.  

Curly is our last believer, who I have to guess is on the fence.  I do wonder if maybe she is hanging on to her Santa-belief because she fears our family's approach to Christmas without him.  Maybe a touch of the 'If you don't believe, you don't receive?'

Ed and his friend, Lad and his friend, and Coach eventually got the table out of the van and into the house.  We slid it on a blanket across the floor to the basement door where the table decided to be all ba-hum-buggie and not go down the stairs.  They got it part way down the staircase but it refused to make the turn about 6 stairs down.  I was flashing back to the nightmare of purchasing a sectional to fit down the stairs.  How soon my brain forgets small details like ass-hole staircases.  Sigh. 

Coach was in his ‘Hmm, let’s think about how we can do this’ mode and I was getting text messages about the impending arrival of our other 4 kids.  Coach acted like he was about to give up, and I was shouting things like:  ‘Get it out of the box, maybe it will break down in smaller pieces, let’s goooo - we are running out of time.’  With a 500 lb table staring at him mid-staircase, Coach would rather not be rushed. 

They hauled Ding-Dong, the table from Hell, back up the stairs and into the living room where we attacked the box and packaging like a pack of angry elves.  Soon the floor was littered with heavy duty cardboard and Styrofoam.  Luckily the packaging had added a few inches at the top and the bottom, plus the table could now be brought down in two pieces. 

The next hurdle was the text that read:  THEY ARE ON THEIR WAY HOME!