single-parenting, Uncategorized

The Weekly Recap: R.I.P. Wonder Woman Mug

Sunday morning trip to Memphis

Last weekend, May Lee and I took an impromptu trip to Memphis to buy a birthday present for my dad. It turned out to be a lovely little day trip. During the drive over, we listened to The Greatest Showman soundtrack, playing the song “The Other Side” over and over so that May Lee and I could perfect our duet.

“You be Mr. Barnum this time!” May Lee would instruct, or “Let’s switch and you be Mr. Bailey!”

Sometimes we’d pause our rehearsals to argue passionately about what the lyrics to the song REALLY are. Currently, May Lee holds the high score for the most creative lyrics, and I hold the high score for accuracy. I try not squash her inaccurate and completely humorous lyrics with my need for accuracy, because it works in my favor when she replaces the swear words with “meow”. It cracks me up every time.

We rolled into town just a few minutes late for services at one of our favorite, local churches. When church was over, we ate lunch with friends at Memphis Pizza Café, one of my favorite spots. As has been my tradition at any Memphis Pizza Café location for over a decade, I picked up The Memphis Flyer as soon as I walked in. Then, I sat down at a table and ordered a Greek salad and a slice of pizza. The only thing that really varies in this equation is the kind of pizza I’ll order, as that selection is entirely dependent upon the state of my spirit. That day, my spirit said Hawaiian, which turned out to be an excellent choice.

 The Petting Zoo: What is thriving and what is not

We are down to 1 goldfish of the original seven. What strong stock must this remaining fish be made of that it has outlasted all the others? I fear that it is a female goldfish and that she is secretly harboring eggs. I fear that she will lay these eggs and that one morning we will wake up and there will be an entire, new generation of goldfish for us to care for in a cycle that will never end.

The turtle also continues to thrive. I suppose it is time to find a permanent location for her, also. Maybe she should move in with the goldfish, seeing is how they are both determined to survive living in this household.

The dog continues to be himself. Although, he appears to be less motivated to eat the cats these days. It could be the heat that has decreased his desire to chase and annoy the felines.

Speaking of felines, Tidden continues to be charming and mischievous, but Emmy Lou has taken on a new level of weird. For the last several days, she has taken to spending hours sitting in the dark on top of the toilet in May Lee’s bathroom. From the shadows, she will meow loudly at various, random times with no discernible provocation. May Lee and I will pop our heads in from time to time to check on her, and there she’ll be, staring off into space with the tip of her tiny, pink tongue sticking out of her mouth.

I fear that this may be the end of the line for her, and that some neurodegenerative cat disease that will ultimately cause her demise is overtaking her. But I’ve harbored this concern off and on for several years now, and yet here she is: alive and well and meowing from her perch on the toilet lid. Carry on, Emmy Lou. Carry on.

 When coffee betrays

This afternoon, after I woke up from a power nap on the couch, I couldn’t shake off the nap-induced haze and decided to make a cup of coffee. As the coffee brewed, I prepared my prized Wonder Woman mug by filling the bottom with Cheesecake Factory Strawberry Cheesecake creamer. (It sounds disgusting, doesn’t it? Strawberry Cheesecake creamer?! I was horrified when I saw it at the grocery store, and then I bought it anyway. I can’t explain myself sometimes.)

I filled the rest of the mug with coffee, slid my middle 3 fingers through the handle, and turned to walk into the living room. I can’t fully explain what happened next, outside of some sort of temporary, epileptic convulsion, because why else would the synapses in my brain betray me by sending messages to my arms and hands to completely lose control of the cup of steaming, hot coffee?

Coffee spillThe mug seemed to slide out of my right hand, causing my left hand to attempt to quickly grasp the errant mug in order to prevent the impending doom. What my left hand actually did, however, was send the mug spiraling into the air while coffee sprayed out in every direction. The mug hit the floor, sending ocean waves of coffee in every direction. I gasped loudly as coffee splashed up and all over my jaw, neck, chest, shoulders, arms, stomach, and legs. Pools of coffee formed in my flip-flops beneath my feet.

With my mouth hanging open and my brain frantically trying to assess the burn factor on my skin, my eyes surveyed the damage. The Wonder Woman mug was in pieces large and small. Pools of coffee were on the floor and spreading out with every second that passed. Coffee was dripping down from the cabinets, the stove, and the island.

I probably stood there for a full 2 minutes letting my brain click through it’s processing procedures:

Am I horribly burned? -“No. I’m actually good.”

How long will it take me to clean this mess? – “Most likely the rest of eternity. Maybe 10 years, if I’m lucky. Or perhaps a span of 3 years is a more reasonable amount of time to expect to find coffee droplets everywhere I turn in my kitchen, no matter how well I may clean it up now.”

Is my coffee mug completely destroyed? – “Yes, it seems irreparable.”

Do I smell like an incredibly delicious dessert? – “Yes, the strawberry scent of that creamer is strong, and coffee always smells heavenly.”

Is my skin becoming stickier by the second? – “It is going to take no less than 3 showers to remove the adhesive powers of this coffee creamer from my skin.”

In the meantime, May Lee was carefully collecting the fragments of the coffee mug and trying to console me with her optimistic belief that we could Gorilla Glue it back together. Still mostly in a daze, I slipped off my flip-flops and started laying down towels over the enormous mess on the floor, first using the towels to wipe the coffee from my neck, arms, legs, and feet.

In what turned out to be a crucial mistake, I neglected to put the flip-flops back on my feet after toweling them off. After placing a towel over an enormous puddle, I turned to retrieve another towel and felt the sting of glass in my heel. Hobbling over to the cleaner part of the floor, I removed the shard from my foot and proceeded to drip blood into my flip-flop.

It was in this moment of complete chaos where I found myself surrounded by blood and coffee stained towels and blood and coffee filled flip-flops that my child decided to make the clean up process into a game of make-believe.

“Let’s pretend the king and queen are coming to our house!” she said.

“Oh dear Lord,” was my only reply.

“They are coming in 5 weeks, so we have to get this place totally cleaned up!” she continued.

I smiled, because her imagination and willingness to help clean up was completely endearing. And yet, this make believe game of the king and queen coming to visit my house while coffee and blood mingled together everywhere I turned stressed me out so badly. My grown up brain knew very well that the king and queen were not actually coming to our house, but the stress in my body kept saying that their arrival was imminent. Apparently, my imagination is just as strong as hers.

We continued to scrub while May Lee happily pretended that the king and queen were coming. I kept chanting to myself that none of this was really happening, because denial is my favorite of the unhealthy coping skills.

It was at this point in the pandemonium that I realized what an enormous betrayal this really was. I was depending on coffee to help me make it through the rest of the day. It was to be the supplier of the inner fortitude required to play imagination games, clean the house, and listen to no less than 1000 of May Lee’s antidotes. Yet, here I was attempting to clean an enormous mess and to respond when and how I’m supposed to respond in this game of make believe with NO COFFEE. Then to add insult to injury, any coffee I may have from this point on would not be in my Wonder Woman coffee mug, which was a gift from my roommate at my last trauma-training module. The matching mugs were a symbol of our sisterhood of survival.

Sigh, I suppose we will survive even this.

I paused mid-cleanup to brew another cup of coffee, selecting the mug bearing the logo of the local funeral home. It seemed most appropriate for the occasion.

I suppose that we will be required to wear shoes in the kitchen and will be finding stray droplets of coffee for the next several weeks. Perhaps we’ll even try to superglue the mug back together and use it to hold pencils or for some other decorative purpose. Through it all, I will be drinking coffee, even though I feel hurt and betrayed at the moment.

You see, coffee and I have a long-standing relationship based in deep and abiding love, and where there is deep and abiding love, there is always forgiveness. With love, forgiveness, and coffee by my side, I can always find the strength to bid a heartfelt fare-thee-well to gentle creatures (such as goldfish) and symbols of sisterhood and thereby release them into the universe.

R.I.P Wonder Woman mug. You will be missed.

Christian, Mom, single-parenting

The Road Trip

Details kill me, and the final hours of prepping for a road trip are nothing but details. It’s brutal. I hate it. So therefore, I make the process much easier on myself by doing things like changing my mind last minute about arrangements for my dog. However, in a flurry of text messages, I was able to secure a last minute dog-sitter to come to the house, and this solved so many problems related to travel and getting back at a certain time to pick up Stax from the vet, not to mention the additional costs of boarding at the vet. I breathed a giant sigh of relief and went to bed Thursday night with that stress off of my mind.

I woke Friday morning to the ripping sounds of the dog pulling apart the fabric of his stuffed duck. This noise carried on long enough to pull me out of the haze of half-sleep to being awake enough to feel like it was important to make sure the ripping noise was in fact the stuffed duck and not one of May Lee’s precious stuffed animals. I rolled over and Stax raised his head to look at me with his giant, pleading eyes and perky, puppy ears while my shredded bra dangled from his mouth. Of course my dog would eat my one good t-shirt bra on the morning that we leave for vacation. Who wants to wear white at the beach anyway? That is the yin and yang of vacation planning: by securing a dog-sitter, I relieved myself of additional expenses and errands, but by failing to secure the dog in his crate that night, I ensured that those savings would now be invested in a new bra and that one of the first places we would visit at the beach would be the local JC Penney. Come to think of it and ironically enough, I bought that now shredded bra at the Panama City Beach JC Penney. The circle of life and what not…

After leaving work at 1 to run errands and pack up the car, I was right on time to pick up May Lee at the first stop for the camp bus. Then, we were off on our beach adventure! Except, it was dinnertime and she was starving, so we hadn’t even made it out of town before we were driving through the Chick-Fil-A for dinner. We stopped several more times for bathrooms, making this 4-hour trip feel like it lasted for all of eternity. When we finally did pull up to the Holiday Inn Express, we were greeted by a line of tween boys in various stages of dress but all wearing uniform baseball hats coming of the sliding double doors. “Baseball team?” I asked the woman checking us in. “Yes,” she said “Half of them just filed outside and the other half are in the pool”. She also informed me that we were getting the Jacuzzi king, since it was the only room left in the hotel, so that seemed to make up for sharing the place with a tween baseball league.

I grabbed a luggage cart and May Lee hopped on for a ride. It is my single-parent travel survival trick. When one has to get all the luggage in while also corralling the child, it is much easier and efficient to make sure the child can ride on the cart. We made our way outside, and I noted that chaperones nursing beers had finally made their way outside. The boys were nowhere in sight, but from the ruckus coming from behind the tall fence of bushes, I assumed that they were doing whatever tween boys on a traveling baseball team do in that general area. One of the chaperones looked at May Lee and said “Fun! Can I ride the cart too?!” May Lee just giggled. The woman then looked at me and said, “Bless you” with knowing and sympathetic eyes. I didn’t know what to make of that comment….was that pity? Was that empathy, because she also had her hands full with a team of young teenage boys and also a beer, which I can only assume was to help cope with the tween baseball team? Whatever the intention was behind it, I simply said “Thank you” because I’m not one to pass up a free blessing.

The next morning, we ate breakfast with the baseball crowd and attempted to navigate our way in and around them as they packed their cars full of gear and children and I packed up my one child that could still easily fit on the luggage rack. These dedicated parents were chasing boys and their siblings while wrestling with no small amount of baseball equipment. I couldn’t help but think that I had the way easier deal this morning, and I had a new found respect for the mom who blessed me last night as I watched her herd 4 boys into her car. Solidarity sister!

May Lee and I were feeling good as we took off down the highway. She was in the back seat exclaiming, “I can’t WAIT to be at the beach! I can’t WAIT to dig in the sand!” I realized that I had forgotten to get gas before we got on the highway, so we stopped about an hour later to get gas and use the restroom. The station was full of other beach-going families, some going to the beach and some returning home. All of them were generating an enormous amount of noise. I quickly shuffled May Lee to the bathroom, hoping we could make a quick exit from this place before my nerves were completely shot. May Lee was doing her half-panicked dance around this unfamiliar toilet and I was trying to coax her on it so we could leave this insane place! She finally acquiesced and went to the bathroom while 2 more families filed in. We exited the stall just as a mom with a child screaming the shrillest cry I’ve ever heard entered the bathroom. We quickly washed hands and were ready to get the heck out of there when I realized that I didn’t have my keys. The image of my keys hanging on the hook inside of the bathroom stall flashed before my eyes as I remembered hanging them there during May Lee’s unfamiliar potty dance.

What is the least creepy way to get your keys back from a now occupied toilet stall while the child next in line for the bathroom continues to scream at levels that threaten to rupture your eardrums? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I posted up outside that bathroom stall, and when the woman exited I shot inside before anyone else could get in there and grabbed my keys. As I bolted out of the stall, I grabbed May Lee by the arm and essentially flew her like a kite out of the bathroom door and out of that infernal gas station.

We were happily back on the road in minutes and made it all the way through Birmingham without incident. We had planned to stop for lunch outside of Birmingham, but we hit a traffic jam just as we merged onto the highway out of town. I thought we could wait it out easily and stick to our original plan, but that was not to be. We were still in traffic and hour later, and we starving and in desperate need of a bathroom. I got off the highway at the next exit, only to discover that the only thing at this exit was a Home Depot. Good enough. We walked through the aisles of appliances, paint, and freshly cut wood to the bathroom. When we got back outside to the parking lot, we decided that we might as well break open the cooler and each lunch right there. So PB&J with Doritos was had by all, and we enjoyed it immensely.

Once our tummies were satisfied, we made our way back onto the highway and into the traffic jam. After 20 minutes, we decided to take advantage of our slow pace and get some fresh air. We rolled the windows down and said hello to our fellow traffic jam neighbors. We were, after all, surrounded by other cars packed to the gills with all manner of beach paraphernalia. These were our people, might as well say hello. Once the pace picked up a little and we could no longer socialize, we cranked up the tunes and had a little song and dance party. It passed the time and made the whole stuck-in-traffic-for-all-eternity thing a little more bearable.

I would like to say that once we were out of Birmingham that traffic died down, but that was not the case. We were in beach traffic from Birmingham to the coast, and it added 2 hours to our trip. But we did arrive, and we executed our luggage cart routine all over again. There are pieces of our travel routine that we have down to a science, and then there are the details that continue to be the bane of my existence. Either way, I sure enjoy this time with my girl. She is growing up so fast and pretty soon she will actually be able to drive the car on our road trips instead of just pretending to from the back seat while shouting at me to “just turn all ready!”. And really, that’s what this trip is all about, making memories and spending uninterrupted time with my girl. I’m excited about the memories we will make during this trip, so stay tuned!