A week ago today, I was staring and cursing…(ever so politely, of course) at the stupid, freakin’ cursor as it mocked me with its happy little blinking on and off. Oh, sure…it looks all strung out and happy when it’s surrounded by all those sweet, creative words…but when it’s center-stage on an empty white page?? Not so much.
Then came the mad rush to fit five days of work into three days…with Wednesday being the hardest day of all because I was still at work and da boys were all at home, where they were undoubtedly missing me terribly, probably rocking back and forth in a futile attempt at self-comfort, whilst intermittently wailing, “Mommmmm. I want my mommmmm.” So, you can imagine my confusion when I arrived home calling out, “Mummy’s home!” in my very best English accent and the response was a muffled, “Hang on. Be right there. I can’t pause or the zombies will get me,” or something to this effect.
Thursday was Turkey Day. Unless it’s not. In our family, we alternate Thanksgiving with Mock-Thanksgiving…which takes place on Friday, to allow for in-laws, etc. to host various members of our clan, as we’re ever-so-popular. Every couple of years, there’s even a wild card second Mock thrown in there…usually hosted by close friends. The upside is that you get to see everyone you love during an extended holiday that seems to go on forever. The downside to this tradition is that you end up eating Thanksgiving dinner several times…and that doesn’t include all that pre and post dinner consumption. And don’t even get me started on the leftovers. The good news is that if you don’t see any sweet potato pie at one place, you’ll probably find it at the next. The bad news is that you eat…and you eat…and you eat. And everyone sends you home with leftovers…’cause everyone knows that Kathryn
can’t doesn’t cook.
On Saturday, Connor (13) woke up and announced that he’d lost his cell. After much ado, we realized that it must have fallen out of his pocket whilst he was playing Manhunt… which, to the best of my understanding, is where kids wait till it’s dark and play hide-and-go-seek. But they don’t call it hide-and-go-seek ‘cause they’re too old and too cool for such a childhood classic, so it’s called Manhunt. It involves a lot of running and tumbling and diving into ditches to not get
tagged hunted caught, so you can see how his phone could have made a jump for it and flung itself into a pile of leaves or something.
I don’t know why he didn’t come to me as soon as he’d realized it was missing. I am such a kind, understanding, gentle soul and I would have totally understood. We would have laughingly slapped each other on the back and I would have said, “Hey. What are ya gonna do? This sh!t happens, bro! No big whoop!” Although, what I believed I actually may have said was, “WHAT?! ARE YOU FREAKIN’ KIDDING ME?? NOW YOU TELL ME? WTF??”
The good news was that he believed he’d lost it at my sister’s place on Friday. The bad news is that my sister lives on two acres of land. “No worries,” I thought. I’ll wait till he goes to the movies with his dad and I’ll slip over to Laura’s and I’ll find that cellphone that’s been lying outside all night, probably face-down, which would explain why when they’d called it 327 times, they couldn’t find it in the dark. Oh, and did I mention he’d put it on vibrate prior to dropping it? The odds were definitely stacked against us…but I’m nothing if not determined. Of course, 15 minutes into looking through flower beds with piles of moldy, soggy fall leaves left me feeling somewhat disenchanted…as I muttered, “Needle in a freakin’ haystack. Oh. My. God. Are you kidding me??”
This is when I decided to turn to divine intervention. (I know you’re supposed to save this for life-threatening dilemmas, like when you’re on a runaway train that’s going 100mph and you’re heading for a brick wall. Seriously, though..who's putting a brick wall on some train tracks anyway?? I was desperate. And then there’s that whole having-to-cancel-the-service-and-replace-the-phone, so it was kinda bordering on being life-threatening, if you ask me.) I looked up to the heavens and asked the most optimistic person I know, my mom, to help me out. I figured from her vantage point, she probably knew exactly where Connor’s phone was and she was just waiting for someone to ask. So I did. I wandered around the now-dormant forsythia and weaved past the fenced-in garden, with absolutely no rhyme or reason to my meandering. I wasn’t even sure if Connor had been on this side of the property…but I put my faith in the power of my mom. I was alternately waving my arms dramatically and wiggling my fingers in a magical kind of
psychotic psychic way and was mumbling, “C’mon, Mom. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon….where’s-the-freakin’-phone-I-won’t-let-this-happen-again-c’mon-you-know-he’s-a-good-kid,”and I’d checked the flower beds and I’d checked around the base of the shed and I was looping around through the huge expanse of grass on the side yard towards the pine trees at the far end of her property when I happened to glance down and what to my wondering eyes should appear?
Yes, folks. It was a dead cellphone in the form of a Thanksgiving miracle. Now, if only I hadn’t eaten so much...I would have been able to bend over to pick it up.
The lessons here are as follows:
- Relieve your pockets of your cell prior to playing
- It might be best to just say no to that second helping of pie....(times three).
So, here’s to happy holidays, happy endings…and lots and lots of sit-ups.