Last night This morning at 2:30 a.m. the phone rang. This is not usually a good thing. I was still awake and up; this is, I’m sure, the only thing that prevented a heart attack.
It was Belle. Thirty miles away. She and a ‘friend’ had gone to the Hairbanger’s Ball at the Bluebird and she had locked her keys in the car. I told her to call a locksmith and call me right back.
She did. She called me back. The locksmith wouldn’t come till after business hours.
So I did what any devoted Mommy would do. I put on my shoes and drove up to the city at three in the morning to give my little dingbat daughter the extra key.
Surprisingly, there was very little traffic on the bypass. I think I’ve discovered the best time to go to WalMart.
In front of the Bluebird, it was a different story. The sidewalk and streets were packed. The police car’s flashing lights just added to the excitement. There were young people in various stages of intoxication everywhere. Good thing IU has a dry campus, huh.
I trust my daughter implicitly, and I want you all to know that I leaned over to kiss and snuggle her out of sheer love and affection and not from any nosy desire to see if her breath smelled like margaritas.
It didn’t.
Anyway, she unlocked her car and got in and I started home. About five miles down the interstate my cell phone rang. It was Belle, thanking me almost incoherently for driving up with the key.
She was very welcome.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t come?” I asked her in amazement.
“No, I knew you would come.” She replied.
Darn right.
You see, being a parent doesn’t stop when they grow up. The things you have to do in the middle of the night just get different, that’s all. You’re still up. They’re still up. And they still need you, which makes me very, very happy, unless money is involved.
HOWEVER, early this afternoon the phone rang again. Belle’s car had died on the side of the road (“Mom, I heard something just SNAP in there!”) the day before she has to drive up to Ann Arbor to confer with her novel-writing partner about their last few chapters. Fortunately, Hub and the sweet MIL were already on the road towards Bloomington anyway, so they detoured around and went to her rescue. Her car is now in the queue at Cotton’s Auto Service to be repaired, and how she’s going to get to Michigan is anybody’s guess.
Update: She’s in Michigan now and guess whose car she’s driving? Sigh. I am so easy
Two of the very finest and best and coolest students I ever had dropped in for a visit today. Josh and Dustin, I loved you dearly when you were little kids in junior high, and now that you’re big bad Seniors, I think you’re even more awesome. Bless you both, my sweet young men, and I hope you stay like this forever. Hurry back. I miss you already.
How did they get so tall? I had to reach way up high to hug them.
I’m telling the world, they just don’t make ’em any better than those two.
Isn’t it nice that I can use such a small pan for baking brownies when I save out almost half the batter to eat out of the bowl? Such a space-saver in the dishwasher. That’s why I do it.
I used the weedeater yesterday and didn’t draw blood even once. And then the fishing line jammed and I couldn’t get the thing off so I just laid it on the porch and it’s still there. From the road it looks like a dead body.
It’s better than a ceramic goose in seasonal clothes.