Em and the Possibilities There are no guarantees in life…only the possibilities

Subtitled: The Demise of the Blue Book

I made several run-throughs of the house, making absolutely EXCRUCIATINGLY sure that those girls didn’t leave a pile of junk somewhere for Granny to clean up.

Finally got the van packed and ready to go. As we’re driving down the road to my cousin’s house, Granny says “Y’know, I don’t think we ate breakfast!”

Oops. I knew we forgot something.

No problem, we’ll stop at this restaurant down the road a lil piece. Our cousin works there, it’ll be just what we need! Everything goes smoothly – the boys are behaving, my cousins are there having a late breakfast..it was *that* kind of get together. We all sat around the table gabbing and waiting on Dan to eat his chicken. I finally got tired of waiting and asked for a few boxes – he can eat them on the road. Stacked the Blue Book on top of the food boxes and carried them out, since Joe has decided that he doesn’t mind being carried by my Uncle too much. Put the food boxes on top of the van (with the blue book still on top) and buckled Joe in. Handed the stack of food boxes to Granny and helped her buckle in since the spring in the passenger seat belt needs to be replaced. That is the last place I remember seeing the Blue Book. Dropped Granny off at my cousin’s, and tried to get out of there as quickly as possible – long drive and I’m tired and do NOT want to be driving at night.

Get almost all the way out of town and realize I need to get gas. Pull into a station and start looking for the book. Can’t find it, but the whole van is full of the accumulated belongings of 5 people. I’ll just go back to the house and look more carefully–this way I can throw the kids out into the yard and they won’t be underfoot.

No book.

Go back through the diaper bag, look under the seats, god PLEASE I don’t need to cry right now, go ask Granny if she has it in her purse or any of her other bags.

Nope.

Oh. Shit.

Go back out to the van one more time, then put the girls on looking through the van to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Pull the carseats out incase it slid under them (yeah, I was reaching HARD for that one)…nothing.
Check the vent, make sure Granny didn’t kick it in the space between the dash and the instrument panel. I could take hours itemizing where all I looked for it. I went back to the restaurant and asked if they’d seen it. Nobody had turned it in….and if I DID lose it in the parking lot, well – it’s a busy restaurant, and it was lunchtime.

I got home and cancelled my debit card online. My driver’s license will probably end up in a trash can somewhere, along with my checkbook. Why? Arkansas driver’s license – I hadn’t gotten around to getting a NCDL yet. And my checks are printed with my old Florida address. I write MAYBE two checks a year, I am NOT going to buy a new box of checks every time I move.

So I put $800 in the hands of someone that I sincerely hope needed it more than I do.

The trip home was a long one. Another cousin gave me enough cash to get home on and I’d already filled up – so I had 4 hours of prime driving time with 4 sleeping kids and a brain that wouldn’t let go. I kept replaying the moment when I lost track of the book.

Yes, it’s just an object. But it’s an object that I’ve had for the last 5 years. I miss it!

I WANT MY BLUE BOOK BACK!

Sunday: Travelling day. The day when we throw all our crap back in the van, and head east again, right?

WRONG!

After all the excitement of the day before, Alannah’s stomach took a very wicked turn. She spent all day alternating between locking herself in the bathroom, sobbing with her head in the pillow, and telling us all how AWFUL she felt. I tried to get her to eat something, anything – but y’know how they are at that age. Finally, I’d had enough. We packed in the van and drove back down to my cousin’s house. Be sick there all you want, girlie – at least the boys will have a yard to play in and cousins to play WITH. She sits down in a chair, I hand her a glass of semi-sweet tea….and IT happens. My baby-sitting job cousin got popped by a wasp and freaked out. Yes, I know it hurts like a mofo – and she got stung in the neck.

But please remember that by this point I’m running on caffeine and a biscuit. My patience was wearing thin.

TOO. MUCH. DRAMA.

Oh – and I forgot to tell you about Joe during all this. He earned the nickname “The Tick” over the weekend. Why? Because (much like a tick) he never left my skin. Had to be held, had to be nursed. Most of the time he was fine and happy….but he’s 30 lbs of weight on my already-tired body.

We get in the van to go back to the house, and all 4 kids fall asleep on the way there. They’re snoozing so soundly, none of them notice that I stopped at the store long enough to pick up soft drinks and skettios and noodleos for everyone to snarf.

When we pull up to the house and I start waking everyone, Alannah comes up to me. Lays her head on my shoulder and says: “Mom, you were right. I guess I really DID need more sleep than that. What’s to eat?”

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to slap her or cry (she said I was RIGHT!!!!!) at that point.

The rest of the evening passed in a haze of baths and skettios and giggles and smooshed fingers.

Next: Going Home

I’ll be honest. I kept my expectations to a minimum on this party. A large crowd of people that Daniel doesn’t know, poking and talking to him is generally a recipe for a meltdown. I’m really not sure what the difference was this time, but he had a BLAST. Running through the grass, chasing junebugs…….and then it happened.

The party was winding down, and I’d asked Dad to keep an eye on Dan. I finish my conversation, turn around….and Dan is sucking down a Mountain Dew like a vacuum. I fuss, pull the Dew out of his hands, and give him his Sprite to finish. My asshole cousin thought it was funny, and decided to go down the list. Inside of an hour my son ate cake, ice cream, chips, skittles, A LINDT CHOCOLATE TRUFFLE, and I don’t know how much soda. And he didn’t have any lunch.

Yeah, I understand it’s all in good fun….but the cousin who did all this fun stuff is a diabetic. You’d think HE knew better. We don’t go around these folks all that often, can you tell?

We sang “Happy Birthday”. Dan put his hand over my mouth and yelled at me to “Stop SINGING!”

Granny made a speech over her birthday cake that cracked the crowd up.

My kids call me Mom. My grandkids call me Mamaw. My great-grandkids call me Granny. You don’t wanna KNOW what I call them.

I got some really good pictures of the event, but none of myself since I was the photographer. Didn’t see that one coming, didja? *smirk*

During the grand cleanup, the girls were BEGGING for my baby-sitting job cousin to join us overnight. She ultimately decided to stay with her mom and dad, and Alannah pouted until we left.

After all the cleanup was done, we hopped in the van to go back to Granny’s. The kids were *dying* to go see the fireworks display, but it was a sea of humanity at the park, and the boys had gone to sleep in the van. Absolutely, no way, nope, not gonna do it, FORGET IT! So we get to the house just as Mom and Dad pull up and the girls POUNCED on Dad. While they were begging OH so prettily they realized – baby-sitting job cousin is HERE! baby-sitting job cousin is HERE! We absolutely HAVE to go see fireworks now!

While the gabfest was off looking for a parking spot at the fireworks, I got Joe to bed. Dan was too excited to sleep with all the booming and sparkles going off, so we sat on the front porch and oohed over the really high ones. The fireworks display was set to end at midnight, so you can imagine my surprise when they came pulling up at 10:30. Seems that Alannah’s lil friend got bored at the fireworks display and lay down in the middle of the road. They all got showers and gabbed and giggled and snacked until well after midnight, at which point I was ready to commit murder in order to get sleep.

Next: The Fallout

Subtitled: My gods GET ON THE ROAD ALREADY!

The day dawned bright and beautiful. The children were behaving, birds were singing, the sun was shining…….

and then it all went to hell.

Get the suitcases packed. Make sure the boys have *proper* clothing to wear for an entire weekend. Realize I still need to go to Walmart and get the photos Granny requested developed (can we say one-hour photo? I knew you could). Get the kids in the van, buckled in carseats, put the key in the ignition and….nothing. Not even a pathetic “rawr” as it turned over. This can NOT be happening, I JUST GOT THIS THING FIXED!

Run inside and Call. Dad. NOW. He says to wiggle the battery terminal (??!!??) and try it again. So I do, and on the *third* try, the engine starts. WooHOO! Get in the car and let’s go to Walmart so we can get on the ROAD!

Get to WalMart, get our shopping done and photos developed, get out to the (now blazing hot) parking lot, put the key in, and….(say it with me!) Not a Damn Thing AGAIN!

After teaching the kids a few new vocabulary words, we all piled into a buggy and went back into Walmart where I called my Dad and gently pointed out the lack of excitement under the hood. He called the guy who worked on it last time (new alternator) and we got towed into the shop.

The kids LOVED the ride on the tow truck. It was just like a roller coaster!

After prowling around the shop for-fucking-EVER, we found out that the battery was dead as the proverbial doornail. I saved every single one of my acidic comments – didn’t let a one slip across my lips. I was so PROUD of myself for that. (What kind of asshat fucknut sends out an old van with a new alternator and old battery? Without even ASKING if I might want a new battery? They’re much less expensive than a tow charge and shop charge.)

Fine. Two hours later, we’re home (we’re now 4 hours behind schedule). Get the suitcases out to the van, and realize that I need to move *all* the seats up to the next setting. Y’know, moving those seats is a genuine bitch. It took me another hour to get them moved, and the center/center seat out, but at least now I’ve got room for the suitcases, toys, etc etc etc that you need when travelling with kids. Finally get on the road, and I realize I need to top the tank off before it gets dark. I realize this when it takes me an hour to get through two separate phases of road construction.

Get across the state line into Virginia and start looking for gas stations and food for the kids. Pull off onto an unfamiliar exit because the kids saw a Wendy’s sign and they wanted Frosty’s. Didn’t find the Wendy’s, did a U, and turned into the gas station. Realized I didn’t want to go into a busy gas station with a carload of kids, so used my handy-dandy debit card at the pump. Looked around the station while the tank filled and saw a sign that said “We sell prepaid visa cards here”. Thought to myself “Self, that would be a very nice thing instead of that wad of cash. However, you are in unfamiliar territory, with a van full of kids. You do NOT want to take the kids into this crowded gas station, nor do you want to leave the children in the van while you go inside to do your business.” Pulled out of the gas station, found a McD’s, and back to the interstate we went.

Fortunately, the rest of the trip was uneventful with the exception of the sky vomiting water on us as I crossed the Tennessee state line.

Next: The Birthday Party

I lost my wallet today.

It had $800 in it. Cash.

I was going to buy a prepaid visa card so I wouldn’t be carrying so much cash, but I didn’t.

Just kill me now.

Leaving to go see Granny this weekend and celebrate her 88th birthday. I’m not handing the keys over to anyone else while I’m gone — just check out the folkies on my blogroll. They’ve got good stuff going on for the most part

Where I’m going there will be no internet access, and most likely no time for blogging anyways. I’ll just come back with pretty pictures.

Y’all have a safe and happy 4th and don’t do anything I would

This weekend is shaping up to be a doozy. We’re going to celebrate Granny’s 88th birthday, and (god WHY did I agree?) we’re taking Alannah’s friend with us. I’ve been commanded yelled at ordered to buy at least ONE new outfit for the occasion. I’m not going to tell you how long it’s been since I bought clothes for myself – I’ll just say that I hate shopping with a passion usually left for child-molesting priests. I know, I’m gonna have to suck it up and deal since I’m going back to work in December, but I can put it off until, say, around November 29th, right? And I’ve been crocheting up a storm, so I’ll have plenty of sweaters at least for the winter.

On the “YAY!” front, I FINALLY got rid of the Mazda last night. This will most certainly facilitate said shopping since it’s what brought on the whole shopping discussion to start with. It’s only been for sale since I came back to NC in Feb 2003.

Dan’s driving me nuts these days. He’s at the “Mommy!” stage. I’d rather listen to fingernails on a chalkboard.
mommy?
yes Dan?
mommy!
yes Dan?
MOMmy!
YES Dan?
MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY!
WHAT??!!??
get up get up get up! I want your hand! Give me your HAND!

OK. Must get coffee and get moving on the rest of my day. *kisses*