My 1,000 post: What my people are saying (WMPAS)

I have been taking notes mentally, which let's face it means I need to hurry and record my thoughts or I'll forget. These are things the kids and Coach have been saying lately. I don't think any of it will surprise you, but I think it'll give you a chuckle. 

I feel like this might make a fun new 'what my people are saying' segment to my blog, and I thought it would be a fun way to celebrate my 1,000 post.

*******

Mini asked Coach a few nights before we left for Budapest what kind of dog he would like, since he basically doesn't like dogs, or pets of any kind. 

Coach:  UM, THE KIND THAT STAYS NEAR ME, LIKE LAYS AT MY FEET, BUT DOESN'T BOTHER ME. AFFECTIONATE BUT LETS ME PET IT AND THEN JUST LAYS THERE AND LEAVES ME ALONE. ACTS LIKE THEY ARE INTERESTED IN MY DAY AND THAT THEY MISSED ME. PLEASANT. NOT YAPPY.

Mini:  OH, SO BASICALLY CURLY IN DOG FORM, BUT A CURLY VERSION THAT DOESN'T TALK. 

*******

In early spring, Mini joined senior assassin. Seniors pay a small fee and then participate in a squirt gun competition. The last team standing wins free tickets to prom. 

Mini and her partner were randomly assigned to knock off another twosome, one of which was her co-president to the Global Humanitarian Club. Mini convinced him that a local newspaper was going to write a small article about the club. She asked him to meet her at the library where the paper was going to take their photo. 

If the seniors wore a cape or a cowboy hat, they were off-limits. This video shows Mini saying, "We should take off our hats for the photo." Her assassin partner's mom, who this kid didn't know, agreed to pose as the photographer. The mom ended up filming the assassination. Watch as Mini pretends to pull club flyers out of her bag to show the fake newspaper lady, but instead whips out her squirt gun. 

*The video shared with me was sideways, so I had to play in back on my desktop and then record it on my video camera in order to use it. I put this clip in the grad video I made for her, of course. 

I told her there was no way this was going to work, to not get her hopes up. Thirty minutes later, she came home and stood in my kitchen laughing uncontrollably. 

Mini:  I NEED AN EGO CHECK OR SOMETHING. I'M FEELING LIKE 007 OVER HERE. I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS WORKED. 

*******

While in Budapest, Ed described the gym where he works out. A HUGE guy acts as a trainer for people. Ed says he looks JUST LIKE the guy Ivan something or other in Rocky II, maybe. Anyway, Ed got to a leg-press piece of equipment. Ivan lookalike walked over with his client and asked Ed how much longer he had on the leg-press. 

Ed:  OH, I JUST GOT ON THIS MACHINE. I HAVEN'T STARTED.

Ed said there were a bunch of open leg-presses thingies. He personally didn't really care which one he used, but he could tell Ivan wanted this particular machine. 

Ed:  OH, I CAN JUST USE ANOTHER MACHINE. IT'S FINE. NO BIG DEAL.

Ivan then looked at him straight faced as Ed got up and moved to another machine. He nodded at Ed, then he said to Ed:  YOU- THE KING OF THE JUNGLE. (not sure how great this quote is without the all-important Hungarian accent which Ed does an excellent imitation of). We were dying. 

********

BREAKFAST OUT BEFORE MINI LEFT FOR COLLEGE: 

Coach and I took Mini to breakfast in the hiccup of time after he and I drove Ed and Tank respectively, and before we drove her. We gave her a little speech about being careful. It feels different to send a girl to college. At least it feels different to me. 

Me:  Don't drink a drink after you've set it down. Don't drink a drink unless you remove the cap yourself. You have to be careful.

Mini:  Well, I think I have tall girl privilege. 

Coach:  Wait what's that?

Mini:  Well, I'm 6 feet tall. So, I think if anyone is going to target someone, then they will target someone, ya know, smaller than me. 

Coach:  (forehead wrinkled) Wait, what? Have there been studies on this?

Me: (looking at his face, aware that he is thinking this is a real thing) Oh my goodness, she is not referring to some actual thing here. She's THINKING that she should be fine because she is tall. Nothing scientific about it. (turning to my tall daughter) So . . . a guy who is drunk or stupid enough to take advantage of a girl is not necessarily going to be focused enough on her height, so please be careful and keep your wits about you. 

Coach:  Gosh, I thought that was the name of something. 

Mini:  (shrugging) Well, I am 6 feet tall. 

**********

Whether you're fairly new here or you've been around for awhile, I appreciate connecting with you. Quite possibly more than you know. 

I would SO welcome your comments on, well, I don't know . . . anything. Maybe tell me how you ended up reading my blog? Is there a particular post that has made you laugh/cringe/cry? Is there something that would make my blog better? Any guesses on what Lad was looking for on the roof in this photo, while Coach held the ladder, and Finn, Lad's loyal buddy looked? 

Well, now we have plenty to talk about. In case you are unaware, it is customary for every reader visiting a 1,000th post celebration to leave a comment. Brief is fine. Introduce yourself. I'm waiting. 

Mini's packing process: last hurrahs, not enough neutrals, & emotions

MISSED APPOINTMENT:  

The day after Mini's Target debacle I got a message from the dermatologist. We'd missed an appointment. I guess Mini isn't the only blond in the family. I was so bummed. 

It was Curly's appointment. I planned to take Mini instead - ask for suggestions for the scar on her leg delivered by the air bag in her car accident. It looks like someone smeared mud in a line down her leg. She's going to do a zoom appointment from her dorm room in a few weeks. 

I could NOT believe I'd forgotten. I was doing nothing important, unless you count talking a hysterical 18 year old through a wallet crisis at Target as important. 

LAST HURRAHS AND STALLED PACKING: 

Mini's packing was NOT going well. I noticed that she was excellent at stacking things in piles, but she wasn't great at moving past that to the next phase:  PUTTING THINGS IN BAGS OR BOXES. 

A few times in that last week, she would say:  MEETING THE BASKETBALL FRIENDS FOR DINNER. OUR LAST HURRAH. Or, GOING TO BREAKFAST WITH MY BESTIES. OUR LAST HURRAH.

I was confused. Hadn't she already had a last hurrah sleep over with the besties? 

Well, yes she had. But now one of them was REALLY about to leave. *eyeroll* 

Disarray is how she rolls. 

There were things that needed to be done. The bedroom could not be left in disarray, right? Does she even know what a room without disarray looks like? 

I put my foot down. We were leaving on Friday. I made her caddy on Tuesday and Wednesday. She could take Thursday off. She didn't like my plan, but I couldn't watch her sit and move her piles from the dining room floor to the living room couch or other parallel moves any longer. This was not progress, it was simply pile-reconfiguration. I figured if she caddied, she'd have less time and with less time, she was going to have to buckle down and actually complete the packing task.

I KNOW, LET'S GO SHOPPING:  

Tuesday evening, I told Mini that I'd join her in her room to help her pack. A moment after I entered her room, I ordered her to move the piles of clothes to my room. *More reconfiguration* I couldn't work in 'that space.' The light wasn't working. It was dark and cluttered, understatement. 

I stared in disbelief at the size of the piles of clothes that she planned to bring. EXPLAIN YOURSELF. There was a shirt in the pile that had been tossed out by her older brothers. If a male in our home recognizes that a shirt is no longer worth keeping , then by JOVE - it's TRASH. 

Mini:  But, it's really soft. 

Me:  It's not as if you're forced to wear a hair shirt or itchy wool. Your clothes are not scratchy and you don't have sensory issues. 

Then, in the ELEVENTH HOUR, she pointed out a hole in her wardrobe: NOT ENOUGH NEUTRALS. 

Just before we moved packing headquarters to my room, I overheard her summon Curly. She was trading Curly a pair of her running shorts for a pair of Curly's black shorts. 

Huh? I pointed out that the black shorts were Curly's size and didn't fit Mini great. Mini took offense to this, but the girls are 3.5 years apart in age and Curly is a smaller size. Tensions were high. 

So Mini owns tons of shorts and tons of shirts, but very few of them are neutrals. The rags match better with her mint, burgundy, and coral shorts. She didn't have enough black or white tops. 

A fraction of it.

I was blown away, but the evidence was right there on my bedroom floor. I like to shop. That's no secret. I had no idea that her wardrobe was lacking. It seemed she needed a few more things to make it unnecessary to dress in an older brother's garbage t-shirt. 

What does a mother do when she doesn't want to face the inevitable and she has guilt about not buying more neutrals (clearly neutrals weren't on sale as frequently)? She orders stuff from Amazon and store pick up items from Von Maur. I found the black shorts of Curly's in Mini's size at Old Navy and shipped those to her dorm. 

*It begs the question:  Did I have a horrible wardrobe growing up because free shipping wasn't a thing? Or was it simply that my mom was on a budget and she insisted I wear my older, shorter sisters' clothes? 

Wednesday evening, 36 hours from drop off, we headed to Von Maur because we had to pick up my order. How's that for handy? It was crunch time. We dragged a pouty Curly along. 

Little Ms. High School Freshman has become fixated on friend time and caddying was getting in the way. Not all freshman work, but ours has to. She doesn't caddy daily and she misses lots of caddy opportunities for sports, but if caddying interferes with stuff her friends have scheduled- watch out. 

*ASIDE:  the next day, Curly caddied early. I raced to pick her up and get her to the pool party that she feared she'd miss. She was barely even late. All was right in the world again.  

I made a cool whip and cream cheese
 pie for Mini's last night. All Curly had
 to do was create an ND
 out of fruit. I think it's an abstract creation,
 but it was tasty apparently. Not a GF crust.

I left the girls to try some things on while I ran to customer service to grab our order. When I came back, I could hear the girls laughing in their dressing room. It was like music to my ears. I just wanted to stand there and freeze time. 

Mini opted to keep a few of the Amazon things. Packing wasn't compete Thursday evening, but I asked her to come with me to return the Amazon rejects to Kohls and to go to Costco. I bought my folks a rotisserie chicken. Mini and I ran it over to them and she said good-bye.

IT STARTED IN THE CAR:  

I'm not sure who started. Maybe Mini said, I CAN'T BELEIVE I'M NOT GOING TO BE AT HOME. 

Then I chimed in with:  IT'S JUST NEVER GOING TO BE THE SAME AGAIN. (I choked up here, obviously) YOU'LL ONLY BE HOME WHILE YOU'RE IN BETWEEN THINGS. LIKE, WAITING FOR THE NEXT YEAR AT COLLEGE. OR WHILE YOU'RE LOOKING FOR A JOB. I'M GOING TO MISS YOU SO MUCH. 

Mini whispered:  I'LL CALL MORE THAN THE BOYS DO. 

Not sure you can tell, but this is a HUGE
duffel bag from Lad's football days. I
 tossed this puppy in the car like a boss.

We both sobbed. Then I said, WELL IT'S BEEN A GOOD RUN. YOU'RE GOING TO DO AMAZING, I'M SO PROUD OF YOU AND YOUR SELF CONFIDENCE, YOUR KINDNESS, AND YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR. YOU'RE GOING TO DO GREAT THINGS. 

Then we went inside and got down to business loading her incredibly over-the-top wardrobe, now with neutrals, into huge duffel bags. I decided that I didn't want to wait till morning to load the car. I wanted to have a nice relaxing sleep before the big day. *foreshadowing* Lad and Coach figured out how to lower the seats and then went to bed. I loaded the car. 

*********

Well, my friends, she's been gone a week and I just sobbed all over again as I wrote this. Wednesday is my 1,000th post. I have something special planned, so a short break from Mini's college drop off  - but my next post is chock full of Mini-isms. Get ready to leave a comment in celebration. While you're at it - go ahead and comment today to get warmed up. This teary mom could use a comment, or 30. Do you only buy neutrals? Did you become emotional dropping kids at college? Do you have a disarray-loving family member? Do you have experience with a scar from an air bag? 

Mini: a Target adventure for the books

BUYING STUFF IN THE 11TH HOUR-  the TARGET DRAMA (needing to be specific here, because believe it or not, there are additional BUYING STUFF IN THE 11TH HOUR categories): 

Since the golf course is closed, Mini had Monday off that last week. I arrived home from driving Tank on Sunday evening. She laid out her Monday plan: Target. 

She'd asked me to go to Target the week prior.

Me:  Thanks, I'll take a pass. 

She was taken aback. I urged her to go with Tank before he left, combine forces. I'd already accompanied her to Bed, Bath & Beyond. I'd also done Kohls with her. I'd also sat at the computer and ordered stuff. I'd pivoted when the sheets that arrived weren't the right navy for her taste. Returned them to Amazon and ordered others. A line needed to be drawn. 

I'm not a monster. I gave her my credit card to go to Target. 

Besides I was going to start babysitting on Tuesday and I had my own things to focus on. I'd just driven 6.5 hours to Omaha with Tank and another 6.5 hours home, solo. 

*There are a few driving stories from both Georgia and Omaha that I must share at some point. Who will remind me? 

Needless to say, that day after my long distance drivers I had no interest in driving anywhere 'extra.' 

Mini went off to Target. She'd informed me that her friends were bringing SO MUCH MORE to college than she was. This was confirmed during her many 'last hurrah' encounters with friends. She rattled off things they were bringing to college - things that, I quickly pointed out, she doesn't use, like vitamins or hair products or body pillows. She was upset with me that I wouldn't allow her to buy a set of drawers for her dorm room. "Everyone brings extra drawers." I begged to differ. The dorm would have a closet, a dresser, and/ or a wardrobe. 

Chill out, no drawers were necessary. These were words I spoke BEFORE I saw what she planned to pack. A wardrobe fit for her and 11 of her closest friends. I'm getting ahead of myself. 

It's great that pictures speak a thousand
words, because I'm speechless on this one. 

An hour after Mini left for Target, she called me. I was relaxing on the deck. I'd decided to enjoy a bit of me-time on this, my last day off before babysitting. 

Mini was sobbing. 

I sat straight up on my lounger, assuming she'd been in another car accident. 

Mini:  (in a breathless whisper) I lost my wallet. (more wailing and explaining)

Me:  OK, have you looked through the cart? Did you retrace your steps? (yes to both) OK, go to customer service and see if someone turned it in.

Mini:  Where is customer service?

Me:  (thinking to myself:  did I raise you in a cage in the basement - how do you not know how to find customer service in a Target?) It's at the front of the store, ya know - where you pick up orders or return stuff. I'm going to get ready to go pick up Curly (that was part of the plan, she was going to leave Target and pick up Curly from her workout at LA Fitness and drop her at the high school for volleyball practice). 

Mini:  (still whimpering) OK, I'm really sorry. (sob, sob) What am I going to do? I had everything in there.

Me:  GO TO CUSTOMER SERVICE.

I hung up and ran to change out of my bathing suit. While I was upstairs my phone rang. I ran back downstairs, just missing a call from Mini. I called her back.

Mini:  (insert calm voice) I got it. They had it at customer service. It's fine. I can get Curly. Tell her I might be a few minutes late. I'm in the checkout now. 

This is a tiny 7 second clip of the girls doing some sort of impromptu dance routine the night before we left to drop Mini at school. 

Later I told Mini how lucky she was. 

Mini:  Well, we live in a nice area. 

Me:  (STARING AT HER WIDE EYED) Still, anyone could have just taken your money. My credit card. Your 2 gift cards. You are LUCKY.

A bit later, Mini shared with me that she saw just about everyone that she knew at Target . . . and they were all shopping with their moms. 

No guilt here. I'd already told her that anything she needed at Target could be ordered on Amazon and arrive the next day. 

Then Mini shared with me that her bestie pulled into the parking lot right next to her car as she was leaving. *A week later, I asked her if Bestie's mom was with Bestie. She was NOT. I rest my case. Mini tried to argue that Bestie buys new clothes daily and is the most independent person that she knows, so not a fair comp. 

Mini:  Bestie double over laughing (in the Target parking lot) when I told her I cried twice in the store. Once when I lost my wallet (which by the way, had the keys to the car attached because it's a lanyard) and once when I lost my phone. Did I tell you that? Before I lost my wallet, I set my phone down on a shelf and realized later that I didn't have it. I went back and found it. (here she mentions the various people that we know who she passed along the way while she was crying).

Me:  OK, Notre Dame. (I've become accustomed to calling Mini 'Notre Dame' when she behaves in a slightly flighty way. It has gotten used more than I care to admit).

Can you believe that Mini told me, while smiling and sort of nudging me, that had I been with her, she wouldn't have lost her wallet? This entire adventure clearly needed to be experienced as one of her time-to-go-to-college growing pains. 

They handed her an actual key for her dorm room when we brought her. I think she was hoping for a keycard like you get in a hotel. Anyone want to guess what she loses first:  her key, her school ID, her phone, or her entire backpack? Dear God, I do hope that she has gotten that out of her system. 

it's a dog eat box world, college drop offs: the sons addition, Hallmark card suggestion, or not

Where to begin? For the last few weeks, our home has felt like and looked like a college gear fulfillment center. Boxes strewn across the floor. Bins resurfacing from various spaces in the basement. Bed Bath and Beyond coupons spread all over the island. People hollering things like:  

WHO'S BIN IS THIS?

DID SOMEONE SEE A PACKAGE THAT ARRIVED YESTERDAY?

DID THE DOG EAT THIS DELIVERY BOX OR WAS THIS SOMETHING WE ALREADY OWNED? *

*so this did NOT feel related to a college packing place. It felt like a different kind of nightmare. We feared that Mary Ann ordered doggie poop collection bags.

(I don't know the actual name because 1. I don't have a dog, and 2. the dog ate the box containing the rolls of poop collection bags before I could see a product name). 

Note one roll, on the far
 right - slightly chewed.

What if Mary Ann ordered them and they were mistakenly delivered on our front porch and then one of us tossed said package inside the door, as we tend to do, and Finn ate the box with the label? What then? 

Well, to our relief, Lad realized that the box had been stored in his locker in the mudroom, and Finn grabbed it from there. Bullet-from-ridiculous-neighbor dodged. We breathed a collective sigh. I admit it was hard not to chuckle when Lad scolded Finn by holding out the bits of package and Finn nuzzled his face into my leg like a naughty toddler looking for an ally.  

                                                                    ***********

This actual package chewing thing happened once before, but fortunately it was something we had ordered, so unrelated to Mary Ann. There was a tampon shortage, of all things, earlier in the summer. Did you know this? We were about to go to Wisconsin with my family and the girls wondered if they might need these items. Store shelves were empty and I ordered various items on line. I ordered a lifetime supply unsure of what would actually arrive. Um, they all arrived. 

"Did I do that?" - spoken in that
annoying tone like Steve Urkel.
Who is enjoying MY recliner chair?

Admittedly, neither of the girls are full fledged, card carrying members of the tampon usage club, but always good to have options. 

If you're wondering, Curly has not recovered from the 'incident' in KC, which still serves as the single funniest event I've ever witnessed. 

If you are further wondering, the tampon boxes were shredded, but the products survived, so no money lost. 

***********

TANK'S STORY: this will probably not surprise you

When I moved Tank into his dorm at Creighton, we shared a giggle about the move in his freshman year. He carried up a bin that had a bunch of clothes in it. Someone in the elevator pointed to the index card taped to the side of the bin:  MATERNITY CLOTHES. Oops. 

Fact:  we're good at reusing bins here, but apparently not great at discarding old labels. 

Not sure that I ever shared Tank's oops when I picked him up from school in May. He wasn't packed. Believe it or not, that is NOT the oops. I anticipated this and brought many empty laundry baskets and boxes. We scooped up his stuff up and chucked it into the back of the car and drove off. 

While we were scooping his stuff up, he proudly handed me a sheet of paper. "This is my award from my fraternity. They did a thing at the end of the year and they gave this to me," he chuckled. 

The paper said MIX IN A WATER. 

Me:  I DON'T GET IT.

Tank:  YOU KNOW, MIX IN A WATER.

Me:  NO, I CAN READ - I'M JUST SAYING I DON'T GET THE MEANING.

Tank:  WELL, THEY SAY THAT TO SOMEONE IF THEY'VE HAD TOO MUCH TO DRINK. LIKE SWITCH TO WATER FOR A BIT. GET IT? 

Me:  (staring at him, head tilted to one side) OH, YEAH. I SEE. I GET IT PERFECTLY NOW. YOU SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN THOUGH. I'M YOUR MOTHER. GOOD GRIEF, TANK. THAT'S NOT FUNNY TO ME. 

This moment when he mistook me for a buddy lead to Coach and I talking to him quite regularly over the summer about the importance of NOT overdoing it. 

*************

ED'S STORY:  this may or may not surprise you

The Great White comes
 in handy, yet again.
 This is the side entrance. Packed
 to the gills for Ed's departure.

Ed needed a mattress because he is going to be living in a house. I will say only that one night he happened to be with me driving to Costco and someone had thrown a full size mattress and box spring out at the curb. 

I will not say anymore except that we may or may not have decided upon inspection that said mattress was in good enough condition to be repurposed for a college house. There are, after all, cleaning products and we have strong sniffers and it may have passed inspection. I may or may not have been sworn to secrecy about whether or not we pondered this, because this kid is easily grossed out and is not interested in potentially being embarrassed. 

Mini overheard a reference to this 'situation' and stared in disbelief. Ed looked at her and simply reminded her to thank her lucky stars that she was awarded a hefty scholarship. 

Moving on, we ordered full size sheets for him and a new comforter. He made lists and gathered his things. He reported one bin missing in action and it caused him a great deal of stress. He'd stored his things in various corners of the house prior to departing for Budapest in Jan '22. I discovered his throw pillows and a duffel bag full of coat hangars in my walk in closet, but this one box alluded us. 

The back view. 

Finally, at long last, I ventured into the storage room in the basement. This may come as a shock to you, but if I do not oversee the movement of items in and out of the storage room the result is complete disarray. Therefore, I avoid the storage room at all cost. Otherwise, I'm reminded of how I need to get down there and organize it (AGAIN).

There were three bins stacked up right inside the door. I inspected each of them. Behind these three bins, was yet another stack of three bins. I couldn't walk over there easily, but I could sort of slide between the rows of bins. The top bin -as in the bin that I could clearly see, since I wasn't blindfolded and the light in the room functions, had a post it note INSIDE the bin. Someone, an organized soul even, placed this post it note in the underside of the lid so that it could be visible to, oh I don't know, TO ANYONE THAT IS NOT BLIND OR OTHERWISE IMPARIED. 

If I know any of you and your ability to figure out uncomplicated riddles, then you've guessed correctly . . . this was Ed's missing bin. In plain sight. With a label in Ed's own hand. 

I guess you never really know someone until they've shown you that they may be organized, but bad at opening their eyes . . . or perhaps this same kid might surprise you and reveal that while he is a germaphobe, the price of a new mattress MIGHT cause him to possibly overcome germaphobe tendencies. 

Oh, here's another nugget - while driving Tank to school, he asked me if I thought Mini might get homesick. I said I don't think so, but I do think she'll miss us a little. 

Then he shared a bit of a conversation between he and Ed. 

Tank:  SO, YEAH. I WAS TALKING TO ED. HE AND I AGREE. WE'RE SO RELIEVED THAT AT LEAST MINI IS NOT A SKANK, OR A SLUT, OR ANYTHING. YOU KNOW.

Me:  (trying not to tear up at this touching sentiment) WELL, I MEAN - I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE REFERRING TO AND I'M NOT AT ALL SURPRISED THAT MINI DOESN'T HAVE ANY OF THOSE QUALITIES, BECAUSE WE RAISED HER, YOU KNOW, NOT TO BE ANY OF THOSE THINGS. GOOD THAT YOU, HER BROTHERS, NOTICED. UM, DID YOU THINK TO THANK MINI FOR MAINTAINING GOOD VALUES AND SUCH?

Tank laughed. He and Ed can give Mini 'the business' about being messy and not exactly being on the ball, and being horrible in the kitchen, so it might've been touching if her brothers had let her know that they appreciate her in this, um, way. Unfortunately, I don't think they have a Hallmark card specifically stating:  THANK FOR NOT BEING A SKANK.

And then there were three . . . plus Coach.
Playing volleyball last night.

The week in review:  I drove Tank to Omaha 8/13th. Coach drove Ed 8/15th. Coach and I drove Mini to ND 8/19th. It was quite a week. As is often the case, there is more to tell. The daughter addition is up next. Any guesses on whether or not Mini was emotional, I was emotional, we were both emotional, or only Coach was emotional? Are you surprised by Tank or Ed's prep to leave? Do you draw the line on used items? 

* Message to Nicole - I cannot leave a comment on your blog at the moment. Getting a weird error message:  PLEASE COMPLETE ALL OF THE FIELDS. Ugh. What fields? 

car buying: babysitting connections has its benefits

NEW-TO-US-CAR:  Mini's accident was on a Wednesday evening. With my dad's car borrowed and the gray in the shop getting brakes, we only had two working cars. We needed a car. Really we could've used another 3 or 4 cars, but who's counting? Friday night, Lad looked at the website for all of the dealerships 'connected-by-blood' (or sparkplugs) to his. We found a few options. 

GW has rips in the seats. Red, RIP, had
a troll living in the wall that made a loud
 ticking noise whenever it felt like it.
This is seal. Look at that middle seat.
 She's a beaut. Leather seats
 - a first for everything. 

He was gonna drive to a distant, but related dealership and snag a used Honda minivan from '19 with 36,000 miles on it the next morning. Then, he'd pick me up in the car (how's that for service), drive me to his nearby dealership and we'd get 'er done. Then I could drive home in the newby. Coach works occasionally on a Saturday, and this was one of them, so I was on my own. We weren't financing, just paying cash. We were hoping for a fast transaction. 

After my workout on Saturday, I decided to scrub the kitchen. Top to bottom. I should've been writing, but sometimes I want a clean kitchen. Why should the kitchen only be clean and uncluttered when we're having a grad party?

Lad called. He was driving the navy minivan, but he'd gotten word that he could show me the car at his dealership, but that I couldn't drive away with it. It needed to be sold out of that building, certified this and that. I couldn't technically buy it that day. 

I switched gears quickly from my OH SHOOT mode to my COME NOW, LET'S SEE WHAT WE CAN DO ABOUT THIS mode. 

You all know that I used to babysit for the family that owns the dealerships where Lad works, right? As in, I was 12 when good fortune struck. They moved into my neighborhood. Mom showed up at their door with a plate full of cookies, a welcoming smile, and an introduction:  SO, I HAVE 3 DAUGHTERS WHO BABYSIT. THE OLDER ONES ARE A LITTLE BUSY WITH THEIR 'FAMILIES', BUT ERNIE IS EXCITED TO GET STARTED.

They were my first sitting gig, and I was obsessed. When we met, they had 3 kids. Eventually they ended up with 8. I vividly remember the specific days when each of the younger 5 were born. 

The owner of the Honda dealership was a year old when I started babysitting for him. I called him Baby Face and he called me Onion. If you look for him in my phone contacts, he's naturally under 'Baby Face.' Being glossed over by my family of origin was of little consequence once Baby Face started crying and clinging to me for dear life when I tried to go home after a babysitting job. The feeling was mutual. Can you say self-esteem builder? 

I texted Baby Face. HEY, IS IT TRUE I CAN'T BUY THE NAVY MINIVAN TODAY? WE ARE HURTING FOR A CAR SINCE MINI'S ACCIDENT. LET ME KNOW IF THERE'S ANY WAY AROUND HAVING TO GO TO BUMBLE TO PURCHASE IT.

A moment later my phone rang.

Baby Face:  They didn't tell me it was a woman I've known my entire life. They just said an employee's mom wants to look at that car. Shit, you can drive it home today. We'll have Lad throw some DL plates on it and do the paperwork at your house. He can bring in your check Monday. 

Later he told Lad to throw in an extended warranty or something, since I kept him alive for years. I knew there was a reason he was my favorite. 

I never even drove the minivan prior to purchasing it. Lad picked me up in it, and gathered some paperwork at his office and about an hour later I drove it home. It's nice. Fancy-shmancy. Hell, I was sold at "THE RADIO WORKS." 

There's a command center that I will probably never quite understand how to use. I think it does everything except start the dishwasher remotely. Plus we've never been part of the leather seat club. As a bonus, it has 8 seats. We won't have to bring two cars or the GW/church bus when we want to all attend a family function together. I'm excited to leave the little troll that lived in the back right side panel of the destroyed red car at the lot. I would like to have an autopsy to determine what the heck caused that thumping noise even when the car was turned off, but I'm just gonna have to wonder. 

Best of all, the car is clean. Really clean. Not gonna lie, I'd be OK living in it. How long will the new-car-clean last? Well, I'm not holding my breath. In case you are wondering, we haven't let Mini drive it yet. Did you know that a week before her accident we were discussing her driving habits and she said:  I'M A GOOD DRIVER. I DRIVE AGGRESSIVELY. 

Well, we tried to explain that she was supposed to drive DEFENSIVELY. How did she miss that day of drivers ed? It happens to be the THEME of the entire program. 

Lad pointed out that when we planned to trade the red car in in July, we wouldn't have gotten much for it because it was never gonna pass emissions. Since it was in an accident, the insurance company won't know that the emissions test was an issue. He thinks we'll get more for it from insurance, than we would've gotten when trading it in.

Mini realized this and said OH, YOU'RE WELCOME. Of course she did. 

We are fortunate to have the funds set aside. This is a terrible time to purchase a car. It was inevitable, but I would prefer not to have done it this way. When Mini was still sobbing in the kitchen a few hours after the accident, I let my kid-who-doesn't-hug know that it was time for a hug. I hugged her for a long time and told her:  CARS CAN BE REPLACED. I CANNOT IMAGINE LIFE WITHOUT YOU IN IT. 

I had the joy of going to
the lot to get a few
things we forgot from the
smashed up minivan. Yikes. 

Then it morphed into a I'M NOT CRYING, YOU'RE CRYING moment, because goodness this was scary and I was emotional. 

After our embrace, I went upstairs to do laundry, and take some deep breaths. A moment later Mini called upstairs. MOM, I FORGOT I WAS SUPPOSED TO BABYSIT TONIGHT. I'M LATE, SHE JUST TEXTED ME. CAN YOU DROP  ME OFF? CAN YOU TELL I WAS CRYING. (sort of, understatement). 

I dropped her off. Then, Curly wanted to go mini-golfing with her friends. I realized Mini never ate dinner, I texted her that I was brining her dinner on my way to mini-golf. I dropped off and picked up Ed from working out in the opposite direction. 

Too bad I'm not in school, because my WHAT DID YOU DO THIS SUMMER assignment would be a piece of cake.

I DROVE. 

 * 8/16/22 update:  We bought the navy (shall we call her 'seal' as in navy seal, or do you have other suggestions?) minivan a few days after the accident in June, so I drafted this awhile ago.  Mini has driven it. But not till mid June. Ed almost missed his train downtown one morning because Mini was driving him (in the kid car). He was like SHE WAS SO SLOW. Praise the Lord for small favors. I drove to GA in Seal and never could figure out how to get the google maps to show on that dang screen. It's been with us a few months now and it's still mostly clean. How long till you think they leave a mess in it?

I'll describe the battle with insurance another day (and Thermador's microwave nonsense), but if you'd like to take a stab in the comments at how much Allstate is offering us - be my guest. 175K miles on it. 2013 Dodge. Let's leave things here at rainbows and sunshine and a car that isn't messy YET. Oh, also a few weeks ago, Lad finally taught me how to work command central. It's incredibly cool. Would've been nice to have that up and running for my July 5th drive to Georgia. 

EXHAUSTED: the background, the underlying issues, and the current climate

I'm 51 years old and I'm annoyed with myself that I let my sisters bother me. I guess it isn't their fault. Not sure that it matters at this point. The division between my two older sisters and myself has gone on for so long  that they now consider themselves a twosome, a separate entity. 

I can't crack the code.

GROUNDWORK 

It started so long ago, my parents laid the groundwork. Ann and Marie are two years apart, almost to the day. I'm 2 years and 4 months younger than Marie. The way we were always grouped , you'd think decades separated us. My brother, Pat, is less than a year younger than me, and Mike is 18 mos. younger than him. My parents ALWAYS lumped me in with the boys. 

Our one local girl cousin - born smack dab between my two sisters. The 3 of them went to see Grease together. I wasn't allowed. They did sleepovers together, I was too young. They roller skated together - not me. You catch my drift. 

Add to that scenario that I'm different than my sisters. I tend to speak up - even speak my mind. My sisters follow the rules. I'm not quite as by-the-book as they are. They are closed minded. I'm not perfect, but I usually have more of an open mind than they do. If someone has pushed my buttons I prefer to clear the air. They'd rather stew about irritations and complain to one another than confront someone.

LAD:  COMMON GROUND

When Lad arrived, both sisters had little guys. At last, something in common. I was part of the crowd. They each would pop out another girl and I'd birth another boy. We did things together for awhile, but Ann still barked at me at the drop of a hat and Marie was out of the country for years. Eventually they planned vacations together and even borrowed the Great White for their ND tailgate. 

I babysat for Ann's kids and Lad came with me. Coach was a full time student and we needed the money. Ann worked part time as a nurse and would only agree to a shift if she had a family member to watch her kids, which was usually me. It seemed like the perfect fit. Each and every time Ann came home from working a shift, she would say, "So, do you want me to pay you then?" She paid me $7/hour (late 90s), so I was hardly robbing her blind. She and her then husband were VERY well off. 

How was I supposed to answer that question? "Um, yes please pay me." Humiliating. 

ENTER MY MOM 

The hardest thing has been how they plan things with our mom, and don't include me. 

 In 2010, the two of them went on a shopping weekend in the city while I was helping my dad travel to Gettysburg in the Great White with 7 of my sisters' kids and my 3 boys. 

They go to dinner with my mom, or manage to spend our mom's birthday with her and I'm not included. They don't even try to hide their exclusivity, or act like they are doing something hurtful. My feelings don't count.  

When I'm excluded from adult gatherings, particularly when my mom is involved, it's because Ann has never really liked me. She was mean to me growing up - she preferred everyone to act prim and proper. I don't do prim and proper. She was never corrected. As a parent, I cannot understand this. If my kids sneer at one another, Coach and I urge them to try harder, accept differences, etc. 

I suspect that during her divorce, Ann requested that I not tag along, and then the three of them decided that if they got away with it once -they could always get away with it. The entire family works hard not to upset Ann. The mentality:  'she's divorced, so she's upset'. They do what they can to please her. 

HOW DO I MOVE ON? 

My middle child syndrome is so pronounced and I wish it wasn't. Really. I want to get over it. Move on. In my family of origin, I've been over-looked, left-out, and glossed over FOREVER. 

I see a therapist. It doesn't help. My kids and Coach see things clearly, which does help, but they can't solve it. The hurt lingers.  

Someone told me recently that Marie is never going to change. (neither is Ann, but she is so controlling that I gave up on her years ago) As you know, now that my folks are older, both sisters monopolize them. I've made a point to pop over to my parents' house. If Coach and I go for a walk and Ann's car is there, I feel like I should be there too. It's not normal, and I dislike the 'what I am missing' feeling. 

On the way to Omaha to drop Tank at school, I asked him to read my next chapter. He opened my laptop and was more interested in reading a file titled:  To Marie.

I explained:  I probably won't send it, but I occasionally write in it. Tank read it and asked why I hadn't mentioned how hurt I am that they went to see Elton John together last week, etc. (I saw that on FB). I really wasn't bummed that they didn't ask me to go to Elton John. That's  not the point. Most of what I vent about it my writing 'To Marie' is the emotional immaturity they display when talking behind my back and not addressing a thing that upsets them to my face. 

I pointed out that asking them to include me in stuff the two of them do is silly. I don't enjoy spending time with them. That ship has sailed. While I still think I'm better off without trying to be included, the fact that they do things with my mom without me is hurtful.

As far as I know, their biggest issue with me is that I wrote a funny story about a thing that happened over 35 years ago. Then they griped about it and my nephew told Lad. *I did ask each of them to speak to me about what upset them, and neither of them would* 

The funny thing? They've always considered our family 'close knit'. They hold our family of origin up as if we are the model everyone should try to emulate. Funny because Coach and I bend over backwards to not repeat the favoritism and exclusivity. 

Cousins had a blast playing
slammo in Wisc.

GUILTY

Remember how I sort of dreaded the weekend in June with my side? Before the big dinner at a fancy old mansion, Coach and I and our kids attended mass. We ended up getting to the restaurant before anyone else because it made no sense to go back to the hotel for 15 minutes when we were already dressed. 

The room was arranged with lots of various tables. Mini chose a table for all the young adult girl cousins. We mapped out where the boy cousin groups would fit, etc. The table in the middle of the room seemed to make the most sense for my folks. There were 6 chairs. We put my folks in the loveseat bench at one end. I sat next to the bench with Coach. Ann and Pat sat in the remaining chairs. (Aunt Leprechaun stayed home with a kid who'd been exposed to covid).

Oops - it was Mom's 80th. Glad I
wasn't in charge of ordering the cake. 

I felt guilty all night. I felt like Marie probably wanted to sit at the table with my parents, like I didn't deserve to sit there. I wasn't worthy. Marie and her hubby/Mike and his wife were alongside this table at two tables for two. 

Isn't that awful? To feel bad for sitting with my parents? My sisters are very robotic and they didn't send me cards for my anniversary last week - I think this is a first in 26 years. Hey, so long as Coach remembers our anniversary that's all that matters. They've sent an unspoken message though. 

My fam leaving the restaurant
 that was on the water. 

*Another story but to be transparent, I'm adding it:  I texted Marie a few weeks ago, days after Mom got out of the hospital. I asked her to *please* urge Dad to click over when someone is clicking in on the other line. He'd emailed me asking me if one of the kids could sit with Mom while he ran to the bank. I called him to discuss what time, etc. I called, and called, and called. No answer. I had many balls in the air and I had a small window that would work. Life stood still at our house while we waited. The window was closing. 

Marie was annoyed and snappy. She was confident that it hadn't been her. She'd only spoken to him briefly. She wondered how she was supposed to know that someone was calling on the other line. *I refrained from telling her to start by removing her head from her ass*. I can hear when someone is clicking in, there's a hiccup in the connection. 

After I drove Mom to PT that day, I took a photo of Marie's number on the caller ID on my parents' phone - it had been her. I texted her the photo, saying OOPS, I GUESS IT WAS YOU. She snarled something back to me. 

I don't think it's wrong to say 'please' do this or that in order to make things easier for everyone who is trying to help our parents. She is used to being in charge - or thinking she is, so she didn't like that. She asked me to text her to let her know how PT went that day. I texted right back, SHE'LL DO FINE. *I refrained from telling her 'get a hobby'.* 

++++++++++++++++

What to do? And I apologize if you've heard about this too many times. I'm exhausted by it myself, and I imagine all of you are too. I want to shed the nonsense and stop the hurt. 

If you are speechless, you can take a guess at approximately how many single socks I unearthed in the boys' room as part of the check out procedures. Yes, I've been begging people all summer to dig out any unmatched socks in their rooms. No, no one obliged. Shock. 

Ah, summer, signs & college kid check-out procedures

 AH, SUMMER

Sunday, Coach and I took Curly to lunch as part of our ongoing 2-meals-out-per-kid-solo-a-year effort. Afterwards, the three of us went to the pool for a bit.

Before that (but after my most frustrating ever day):  Last week on Thursday (the day Reg's extended EEG study ended) I hosted the moms and tots that I will sit for this school year. Sunday I went for my every-other day 4.5 mile slow-ass run. I spent over an hour at my folks' house while Dad went to mass. I came home and deep cleaned my bathroom, did laundry, and got some writing done. That's when Coach and I treated Curly to lunch.

It felt good to relax. 

This was the day that we ended up corralling all of the kids and going to dinner - eating lunch and dinner out? We don't even do that when we are on vacation. It wasn't ideal but when we started to feel like people would be home for dinner - we were like, OK, let's do this in case this is our last chance before everyone leaves for college.  

I took videos of Curly and Coach playing volleyball in the pool. The background music in a few clips was awesome. I'm sharing all 3 clips. The first one I'm posting has crappy background music, but it's the funniest one. I was sitting right under the pool speaker. 

  

Coach recovered nicely from getting spiked on, and I was glad to have taken a few minutes of videos. 

HIGH SCHOOL 

We are sticking with the local high school. We found out Reg couldn't get the waiver after all. Days after we decided this, we learned that the girls' coach left to coach at a nearby college. Reg then had his grand mal seizure Aug 1st and we found out he can't drive for 6 months. (can you hear me softly sobbing in the background as we send our other driving children to college, Reg is sobbing softly too, but in true Reg fashion, he's handing it all quite well). 

Coach and I looked at each other and said, THANK GOD WE DIDN'T SEND THEM TO A DISTANT SCHOOL THAT HE WOULD'VE HAD TO DRIVE TO. That would've been a disaster. Then the night after we were in the ER all day, the boys' coach announced that he was leaving the high school for a different job. 

Signs, they were cropping up everywhere. We'd already made our decision, but with any difficult decision you wonder if you've made the right one - and we are convinced now. 

WHAT'S HER NAME? 

We broke the bank and walked to get ice cream after our dinner out Sunday night, where I ran into a woman from my writing group. She hasn't been able to attend for a few months, but I KNOW her . . . why then, could I not remember her name? So embarrassing. It was on the tip of my tongue. When we got home I called to the kids AMBER - HER NAME IS AMBER!

On the way to dinner in the new minivan that seats all 8 of us, (that story is coming soon . . . I already wrote it), I made a few announcements. 

Me:  Those of you heading off to college, there will be check out procedures. No one leaves without me checking you out. 

* Here I was interrupted for apparently "using the voice"

Me (trying to adjust my voice to sound normal and not angry because I've been burned by college kids before and refuse to be burned again):  Anyway, think of it like you would if you were trying to get your security deposit back. Your rooms will not be trashed. The room will appear as if you were never even there. You will not leave unless I approve the state of the room. I suggest that you start 72 hours before you want to leave, because there will be conditions to meet. 

I will sign off here on that wishful-thinking note. 

What do you do when you can't remember someone's name? Admit it, or mumble something inaudible/fake cough, or carry-on like you didn't just forget his/her name?  Also, I should mention that Coach and I are celebrating 26 years of wedded bliss today, and I managed not to steal his contact lenses. 

bank account set-up woes, freight trains, pricey inconclusive tests: cloudy with a chance of losing it

*I drafted this before Reg's seizure on Monday, August 1st  - but I feel like it describes so much of the emotional roller coaster I've been on, I'm sharing it anyway. It might even make you laugh . . . 

Curly and I got home from visiting Nana at the hospital followed by NOT dropping Curly off at the golf course because someone said not to bother. I suspected that that someone didn't know enough to give Curly advise, but I was too distracted to figure it out. 

I told Curly to vacuum and get things done and maybe we could go to the pool when I returned with Mini after buying her a laptop for college. I thought Reg was gonna be my 'cabana' boy - I had no tasks for him to do linked to an actual pool, but I liked the sound of it, plus it's summer. 

Reg was home, since basketball just ended and he couldn't caddy because he was doing the 3 day extended EEG test to see if he has a seizure disorder. I found out when the woman came to connect his head to a bunch of electrodes that he  couldn't run a vacuum while hooked up. Dang. So much for my vacuuming cabana boy. 

This was Tuesday morning and Reg still hadn't had a 'deja vous' episode. The stress of trying to figure out how to induce an episode was irritating me knowing that if we didn't get an episode recorded, our $2,000 after insurance money would be wasted. 

Mini walked in right behind us from the poop-ified dog-sitting house and asked if she had time to shower. I JUST NEED LIKE 15 MINUTES. I really didn't want to wait, but I told her to hurry. Why had she not showered when she was waiting to meet me after she stole Coach's car? *Sigh.* 

I felt a little better when I went back over to my desk and went through the pile of birth certificates AGAIN. Oh, lookie, lookie. Curly's birth certificate was there the whole time. I stuck it in my purse. 

*I do have a lot of birth certificates - some kids have multiple copies. 

** Note to self:  some things, like searching through piles of birth certificates, should be done without being rushed. 

Mini and I drove to the place where we prefer to buy computers. I could've gone a little bit out of my way to drive up the speedy state road, or take the more direct route with stop lights. I opted for the direct route. Mini and I got stopped by a freight train. Then that freight train seemed to stall. Another freight train came from the other direction. Then a commuter train. Then we had to sit and wait through all the cars ahead of us trying to cross the tracks with traffic lights. It was unbelievable. A 12 or 14 minute drive took over 30 minutes. 

Meanwhile Marie was texting about all the doctors she'd spoken to and tests that were being done and how Mom didn't know her phone number or half the grandkids names. I wondered if I should've stayed at the hospital, especially if Curly didn't need to go caddy and the bank account wasn't getting set up and apparently Mini and I were going to grow into old women before we ever made it to the computer store. I scolded Mini for not being ready to go when I wanted her to go. Then . . . I lost it. 

I sobbed. And sobbed. Tried to stop and then stared again. 

Add to this an ordeal I'm not going to even get into, but we are at a crossroads with Lad. His exotic frog collection is overwhelming, not to mention smelly. Some of his other choices are even more concerning. We are navigating things and are unsure how to proceed. When it rains is pours. 

Any guesses on how
many tanks he has?

Mini and I got a computer. I almost laughed when right in front of the salesman she tried to unplug the display laptop and remove the security device as if she was going to take THAT exact one home with us. She caught herself and was like OH, WAIT. 

I'll say it for you, OH, MINI. How will we all be entertained once she leaves for college? 

We then went to the camera store and spent more money than I care to mention (still worth every penny) to pick up the approximately 110 hours of home movies that I thought were lost, then were found, and now are transferred on a few little jump drives that I must guard with my life. 

It was cloudy and I wasn't sure I should go to the pool with Curly. I hesitated. I called Coach and sobbed on the phone. Curly wanted to go to the pool. Mini urged me to go. She pointed out that even with the clouds the UV rays were 8. I didn't know what that meant. (I know what a UV ray is, but I didn't know what the range is, what number it goes up to. Hey, when it's sunny out - it means it's hot and I might get some color and I enjoy being at the pool. That's what I know).

Mini:  You are a sun bathing monster, how do you not know what UV ray numbers mean? 

I took Curly and her friend to the pool and I was glad. It felt good to relax and I napped a little as it wasn't too hot to fall asleep on my chair. I had warned Curly that we were going to the bank after the pool and her friend was gonna have to come with us. Understood. 

We got to the bank at 4:35. They close at 5. They wouldn't open the account because it was after 4:30. My regular banker wasn't there and I know she would've done it, because we are in the system. It doesn't take that long. I say that, but we all know when I go back for my 4th try to open her account that there will be a power outage or a bank robbery or some other interference and it will take us hours. 

I do know that there are people in the world with real problems and I do feel silly complaining about my day (which was last week and several days before Reg's major seizure). 

Unrelated, because I don't have any
photos that depict frustration -
but I took a pic of this photo
while I was in my dad's study on one of
 my recent visits. I'm the cute one.
 Kidding. Can you guess which is me? We were
 vacationing in Colorado. Look at the mountain
 in the reflection. That's a humming
 bird at the feeder. 

Everything I tried felt  wrong and I was at a loss for where I belonged - having no protocol for what one does when one's mother is in the hospital and finding it difficult to navigate with sisters who hover and monopolize. Sheesh  - it was so frustrating. 

I guess self-care for me is getting things accomplished and off my list. Yikes that was just not happening. BTW - Reg is on anti-seizure meds and having an MRI the 18th (soonest I could get, but the doc isn't worried).

In the next 12 days I will drive Tank back to Omaha, Coach will drive Ed to Indiana, and Coach and I will drive Mini to college together. I start babysitting on the 16th. You know the saying "Not much to see here" - well, that's not true for us at the moment.

Something your college kid is glad to have (but maybe not standard protocol) while at college? How busy is your next 12 days? 

finding frustration, followed by feeling foiled, frequently, I've got 'F' words to say, I guess

I snapped this while at my folks' house
recently thinking you all might enjoy it.
 Behind every great photo display unit from
 the 90s is a device used to chill food.
 At least hers is not in her dining room. 

(backing up the bus a little, because this was already prepared. In case you missed the news in my comments from Monday:  Reg had a grand mall seizure early Monday morning while I was trying to drive him to the ER. It was a long day as the docs decided what to do. More updates as they become available)

FRUSTRATION:  

Tuesday  (last week) - the day after Mom went in the hospital was a day filled with frustration.

I really felt sort of lost all day. I had a plan when I went to bed, when we thought Mom would be sent home in the morning. When Marie decided to come in town, I questioned my plan for the day and I ended up rearranging it. 

What on earth? 

I will be the first to admit that I didn't want to be flexible and allow Marie to dictate what time I went to the hospital. I chose to be a pain when she asked me to switch when I was going to go. I said NO. 

I had things to do. Coach was trying to convince me to consider that she was coming from another state, but from my perspective she didn't need to come. From my experience, Marie believes that she is the most important, if not the only, child my parents have. This has played out numerous times. Like when she thanks me for getting OUR parents groceries in bad weather. I'm not doing this to help her. 

This is what I saw in my family room early
 one morning the other day. Is it me? Did
you see a man's face? Ed was standing there
 and mid-sentence I was like OH, OH LOOK. 

HE'S NO COWBOY:  

In times like this everyone wants to feel helpful. When Dad was thrown from a horse in Yellowstone in '16 (not sure I shared that here before, but Dad almost died. Brain bleed, broken hip, 6 broken ribs), Marie tried to convince all of us to hire a private jet to fly him home or rent a medical RV to drive him home. 

Coach spoke up on the group phone call, saying HE'S IN A GREAT HOSPITAL, IT MAKES NO SENSE TO MOVE HIM RIGHT NOW. ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN IN THAT MEDICAL RV IN THE MIDDLE OF NO WHERE AND NOTHING CAN BE DONE THEN. 

Later Coach and I recognized the issue. Ann flew out with Mom after the accident, so she was there. Pat was the one travelling with him, so he was there. Mike agreed to fly out when Dad was ready to come home and help in that way. I never offered to fly out there, because I was needed at home and there was nothing I could do there. 

Translation:  I know things.

WHAT? YOU DON'T WANT TO STOOP TO MY LEVEL?

Marie wanted so desperately to fly out, because she hated the thought of sacrificing her cherished #1 kid spot, and perhaps she hated to be linked with someone like me - the only kid who wasn't going to make an appearance at a hospital in Wyoming. She was constantly offering to fly out and both Mom and Dad insisted that she not come. No need.

When Dad did come home, Mike flew out to help get him on and off the plane. He had to fend off well-intentioned people who kept offering to lift him by pulling him up from under his arms. Nope - Dad had 6 broken ribs. That was not gonna work. 

Anyway, Marie let all of us know that she was going to drive from Milwaukee to O'Hare to watch Dad get on the ambulance that would take him to the rehab hospital. She took photos and texted them to us. The tech on the ambulance in one of the photos looked super annoyed. 

She got lost on the way to the rehab hospital after leaving O'Hare and was the last to arrive. I was the first one there. (I rarely utter that phrase). When Marie arrived, she handed Mom a notebook. "This is all of the research that I did. All the different private jet and RV companies I talked to when I was trying to find another way to bring him home." 

I was dumbfounded. What on earth? That had been voted down weeks before he came home, but it seemed Marie wanted points for all of her effort. I know, I know, we all handle trauma differently. I just felt it was an odd time to brown nose. 

***********

FOILED IS THE NAME OF THE GAME:  

Initially Dad planned to go see Mom at the hospital after her mini-stroke, and then only one additional visitor could be there. I didn't want to get there and not be allowed in, because Marie was there. I decided to get there before her and then leave when she arrived. Mike convinced Dad to stay home anyway. 

Frustration followed my every move that day. 

At 10 am I left the house with both girls on my way to the hospital. I dropped Mini off at Coach's work to 'steal' his car - a practice we do almost daily. Later someone is tasked to go get him. It's 7 minutes away and across a major road from the club where the kids caddy, so it works. 

Mini was supposed to meet me at the golf club when I dropped Curly off around 11:30. Mini wasn't caddying. She'd registered for classes at ND that morning and she and I planned to go purchase her laptop for college. 

Curly and I saw Nana at the hospital. Shortly after Marie arrived, we left. We went to the bank to get Curly an account. She has a college account somewhere else, but I dislike intermingling her caddy and sitting cash with our money and then trying to remember to send it to the college account. Time to get her set up with a debit card, etc. 

I'd tried to do that last week, but I didn't have enough/correct paperwork. Her passport expired. She can't find her 8th grade student ID. I didn't have her birth certificate with me, thinking her social security card and recently expired passport was sufficient. They wouldn't let me do it. I wondered if her birth certificate was in the vault, but I didn't have the key with me to our safety deposit box.

After that initial fail, I went home and looked through my stack of birth certificates on my desk. It wasn't there. I had the presence of mind to grab the key to the safety deposit box on my way to the hospital. 

After the hospital, we went to the bank. There was no birth certificate in the vault. Foiled. 

I'd worked the whole morning around dropping Curly off to caddy. She heard from a fellow caddy that there was some event going on and they weren't using caddies, or something. Foiled. 

I called Mini who was supposed to meet me to do the computer thing. 

Mini:  So, I'm over at my friend B's house. N is over here letting out B's dogs while they are out of town. One of the dog's bumped into a door and locked N inside a room, so I had to come over. She handed me the key through the window and I had to let her out. 

Me:  Well get home because I want to leave to go get your computer.

Mini:  Sure. I don't want to stay here anyway. The dogs pooped inside the house. Then one of them slid in the poop and there is like poop everywhere. It is rank in here. (insert N dying laughing in the background). 

And there it is, Mini finding a way to blow my mind as I'm trying to figure out a plan and then re-configuring said plan.

**********

Have you ever heard of a dog locking a dog sitter in a room? Come on. Who thinks Mini just wanted to go visit the dogs with her friend? Any major brown noses in your family? Am I the only one who uses a safety deposit box any more?