Author’s Note: It must be the time of year, as I’ve received numerous requests for my children’s version of our Almost Famous Spring Break Adventure. So here goes….
We woke up at 5 a.m. Saturday morning for our flight to Ft. Myers, Florida. We were so excited to visit our grandparents in their new “Over 55 Active Lifestyle Community.” My uncle accidentally called it a “Retirement Community” when he visited them last month and we haven’t heard from him since.
Anyhow, we had no idea our mother could be vertical that early let alone complete a coherent sentence. We still get chills remembering the look on her face when we knocked on the bathroom door and told her the dog ran away. It was pitch-black outside and we had precisely 9.2 minutes before we had to leave for the airport. Dark circles and deep lines surrounded her eyes and her lips started to twitch. Oh wait, she always looks like that before make up and coffee.
Mom told us to brush our backpacks and load our teeth in the van while she poured way too much soap in the dishwasher. Then she scrawled big desperate notes for the dog sitter while muttering something about stupid hounds, ingrates and sedatives.
En route to the airport we scanned the dark shoulders of I-85 in the outside chance that Hank secretly booked a seat on our flight to surprise us. After we got through security, dad handed mom a twenty and said, “Don’t skimp.” Mom emerged from Starbucks with a bit more color in her face.
We got to the gate and saw tons of teenagers. We’re not sure what “Kumbaya” is, but mom and dad swore we were living it when the teenagers started playing their guitars and singing. Mom used dad’s phone to call our dog sitter. Just as mom said, “I’m sorry I woke you Gary” her cell phone rang. (That’s the number on Hank’s tag.) She handed dad his phone, answered hers and looked relieved. For about two seconds.
Groveling on very little sleep or coffee, mom told the caller she was in the airport and could they please keep the dog until we could get someone over there? The answer was, “No, my dad hates dogs.” Mom started crying and handed her phone to dad.
So there’s dad with two phones, trying to write down an address on Section “A” of the Independent Tribune, while a lady at the next gate stared at mom and “Kumbaya” continued playing in the background.
Dad, being dad, got it all worked out. Gary, being a saint, went to get Hank (not a saint). Mom drank her coffee, blew her nose and muttered about beagle farms, thick chains and sedatives.
We got excited about the trip again when it was our turn to board the plane. Then mom’s ticket wouldn’t scan. She was pulled aside for another security check. She started crying again. We pleaded with the gate agent, “Do we have time to run back to Starbucks?”
Karen Rinehart is a syndicated newspaper columnist, public speaker, and creator of The Bus Stop Mommies™. Her book, Invisible Underwear, Bus Stop Mommies and Other Things True To Life, is a popular read in book clubs, school pick up lines, and soccer fields. She enjoys hearing from readers across the States and as far away as Australia, Japan, and England. You can read more at BusStopMommies.com. Karen lives in North Carolina with her two kids, two dogs, and one husband, where they attend St. James Catholic Church. (Well, they leave the dogs at home.)
