Spitting Prohibited

I'm sorry Mom and Dad

Making the decision to have a child – it's momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. - Elizabeth Stone

                                                                                    Yeah, I'm kind of over that this morning.

I shouldn't be so upset as it's partially my fault.  I did not get all the information I should have.  I know better.  But I asked the girl to do one thing.  CALL ME.

A couple of weeks ago a (and I quote) "girl in my class" invited Brooke to join her and some other kids for Pizza.  I asked who was going and if anyone's parent was going to be there.  Got good responses to those questions and said yes.  I drove her to the Pizza joint, met the Mom in charge and then left and came back to get her a couple of hours later.  Nice girl.  Nice Mom.  Girl seems a little shy.

Fast forward to the following Monday.  Same girl asks if Brooke can come to her house for her birthday party sleepover.  Thinking I'll get more information I say I think that sounds fine. 

A couple days later, Brooke asks if she can ride the bus home with her friend to the party.  I ask her if she wants me to just drive her things over so she doesn't have to take them to school.  No, she'll take them to school with her, it's no problem.  I tell her that that sounds OK but to be sure to call me when she gets there so that I know she arrived safely.  As I recall the words I used were "So I know my little pudd'n girl is OK!" 

And that's all I hear for about a week.  About this anyway.  I hear other things.  Many things. Enough things that I sort of forget about the birthday party.

Fast forward a week and a half later to the morning of the party.  Brooke gets up for early morning seminary.  Makes her own breakfast and lets me sleep.  What a sweet girl I think.  Dad drives her to seminary and I sleep the blissful sleep of a mom who doesn't remember there is a birthday party after school.

About 10 o'clock I remember the party.

I ask Dad, did Brooke take clothes for her friend's birthday party?  Yes she did.

Did you write her a note so she can ride the bus home with her friend? No, he did not.

OK, I think they won't let her ride a different bus without a note.  So I will see her after school, and drive her over to this friend's house whom I vaguely remember is named Kate, I think.  Then I can fill in these gaping holes of information that I have. 

And in any case she knows to call.  Right?

She has a cell phone, I'll be able to call her.  Right??

3:00, 3:30, 4:00, 4:30, 5:00 no phone call.  I call her phone.  It is turned OFF. 

5:30, 6:00  Tom suggests calling her friends we do know.  I call a few, they have no idea.

6:30 We start going through the school phone list looking for any girl in Brooke's grade with the name "Kate" "Kathryn" "Cathleen" "Kasey" "Kami" Kara" and any variation we can think of. Tom looks and I call asking for Brooke thinking if she's there great, if not they'll just tell me I have the wrong number.  I am inches away from calling every mother in the school pleading for information.

7:00 I post on Facebook that the girl better call her mother, thinking she might check from her phone or another girl at the party might be on Facebook and tell Brooke.

Somewhere around here I get really desperate and ask Tom if he remembers what Brooke was wearing so I can tell the police should the need arrive.

There is lots of praying going on.  In one of the last prayers I ask that I just know that she is OK, if she is OK and just having fun and forgot all about calling and such, just let me know she's OK.  By the end of this prayer I feel a bit of peace.  She's OK.  An idiot unthinking teenager.  But OK.

Finally, about 10:30 one of Brooke's friends who we called early calls back.  She somehow remembers which Kate, and she called her and told Brooke to call us.  Then she calls us and I start to call Brooke, who in the mean time calls us.  It is 11:00.  Turns out that while the girl's name is Kate she is in the grade ahead of Brooke's.  They just have the same math class.  So we missed her in the searching the school phone book list.

What was the one thing I asked you to do?

                                                                    I don't know, what?

CALL ME.  I asked you to CALL ME.  I had no idea what Kate's last name even was.  I had no idea where you are.  I had no idea if you made it to the party.  I needed all of this information.  You did remember to take your phone.  But there is a reason I pay your cell phone bill every month.  It is not so that you can text your friends.  It is not so that you can call them.  It is so you can call ME.  or Dad, you can call Dad instead, I'm not too picky.  But mostly, ME.  AND so that I can call YOU.  I cannot call you if you turn your phone OFF.

                                                                  Oh.  ....  Sorry Mom.

I am this close to going and getting the girl and never allowing her to leave the house again.  But I take a deep breath.  She's OK.  An idiot unthinking teenager.  And I've been there.  And I did that.  And worse.  And I'd like to now apologize to my parents, I am infinitely sorry for any worry I ever afflicted you with Mom and Dad.  So very very sorry.

A LONG conversation is going to take place when she gets home.  At which point I will decide what punishment is going to be inflicted. 

And I am going to type up a Sleepover Parental Permission sheet.  Which will have all essential information, name of friend, name of parents, address, phone number, who's supervising, what's the general plan for the party, what time should I pick you up the next day...am I missing anything?  And no Sleepovers will be approved without all details.  A bit overboard, maybe, but I don't want another night like last night ever.

I miss the days when any social events came attached with cute little who-what-where invitations with a puppy or maybe a princess or a rainbow on the front.  Or were arranged by ME for THEM. 

I might not be able to get my heart back inside my body, but I'd at least like it to be in the near vicinity if possible.

Dreams on a Saturday

It's my traditional sleeping in day...ahhh Saturday!  The day when Tom magically gets up and sees the kids get breakfast and keeps them quiet (aka plays video games and they sit around watching fascinated).  I love it! 

It wasn't always this way, but it is one of the best side effects of Tom's job.  The best one is the money obviously.  But just under that is his sleep schedule has changed to more resemble mankind's.  He's one of those annoying quick sleepers.  He used to stay up until 2 or 3 am, which yes was handy when there were babies around, he handled the 10 pm to 2 am night wakenings and I handled the 2 am to morning wakenings.  The children learned to never, ever, EVER wake up Daddy if they saw him sleeping.  Though he sleeps little, he sleeps Hard and if you have to wake him during those hours be prepared for some yelling.

However, that's the past Tom sleep schedule.  The present Tom sleep schedule has progressed gradually due to fewer to no night-time baby wakenings and a steady work schedule that requires him to be at work by 6-6:30 am, I think there was a heady year of being there by 7 am.  Oh the hedonist lifestyle!  Anyway sleeping in to Tom means 6:30 or 7 am. 

So Saturday is my day of real sleeping in!  Yay Sleep!

Today though he got up about 6:30, just enough to wake me a little but not enough for me to do more than acknowledge he was leaving and roll back over and go back to sleep and dream again almost immediately.

In my dream there were 3 impossibilities.  Keep that in mind.

The kids and I were driving along with our new puppy.  He was that adorable stage of puppiness where he's not too little, but so playful.  Cute little white lab.  That running around goofy puppy stage...squish that little puppy face! 

Actually I wasn't driving.  I was in the back of the bed of a white pickup.  Grant was driving,  Alex and I were in the back of the bed.  And when I say the back of the bed, I mean we were standing on the back bumper, holding on to the sides...whee!  Wind whipping through our hair.  I think I told Alex to be careful and hold on when he was switching hands...such a good mommy I am.  Then the doggie jumped out of the bed, as we were driving on Washington Pike through Bridgeville in busy traffic.  And got ran over repeatedly.

I woke up.

I tried a little to put the dream out of my head, but it was disturbing.  I knew it was not going to happen. 

To console myself and shake myself out of the horror of the dream, I reminded myself of the impossibilities of this dream.  Could NOT happen.  These are the three things I came up with:

1.  I would never allow any of my children to ride in the back of a pickup truck and certainly not in heavy traffic or EVER EVER EVER standing on the bumper hanging on with the wind whipping through our hair.  EVER EVER EVER!

2. I might possibly get a dog in the future, but not a lab.  They're adorable, but kind of pains in the neck.  That puppy stage lasts until rheumatism sets in.  Dog maybe.  Lab No.

3.  My little baby Granter-panter, Grantsie, Granstar, Grant will never ever ever be old enough to drive!  IMPOSSIBLE!

 
Oh... waaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!

Well anyway, giant growing up children who are not driving age no matter that they have grown up so much that they are now taller than me...

My scary, horrific dream woke me up early enough that we got to go to one of my new favorite places for one of my new favorite yummy breakfasts.

 

And when I say yummy I mean delicious.

 
Raspberry STUFFED French Toast.

Alex is stealing mine.  Stop that!

I was in the mood for sweet today, so I went with this yummy deliciousness, but for savory I unhesitatingly recommend Vicki's Jumbot.  I don't know why it's called that but it means a whole bunch of deliciousness thrown in to a pot and turned into heaven.  And Tom says the Omelets, for all that is holy, try their omelets!

So it wasn't a complete loss of a Saturday.