The event under question was the scheduling of church pictures. Every five to six years, the church hires a photography company to snap the pics of current, occasional, tri-holiday *, and wanna-be members. This has never been a big deal for our family, mostly because previous pictures were taken before a) the kids learned how to voice an opinion, and b) the kids could drive and be employed. Thus, the first arduous task of said venture was finding a workable time. After three or four attempts and subsequent rescheduled dates, we finally agreed on September 20 at 8:00 pm. I knew that the 8:00 pm time slot would be a challenge for me because a) it would be a Friday night**, and b) it would be t-minus one hour from my usual bedtime. However, since the kids were amenable to that time slot, I would take one for the team.
At least, I thought we had 100% agreement on the time slot.
On Monday, as I was depositing clean clothes in Nick's room, I glanced at the calendar on his door and noted that he had written "Family pictures" on the September 27. I wrinkled my brow, walked over to the calendar, and corrected the error. As I exited the room, a flicker of doubt passed through me. Originally, I had schedule pics for the 20th, but due to a work conflict with one of the kids, I had re-scheduled for the 27th. I had told him that, right?
I sent a text to Erika, and she confirmed that she was off Friday night. Good. One down. Now, to check with the other.
As Nick headed out the door to work on Thursday morning, I reminded him of pics on Friday night. "Uh, no," he replied sarcastically, "You told me the 27th. I have to work on Friday night." *** After bickering for a few minutes, he left in a huff, and I was indignant. After all, I had told him the 20th, and he had screwed up . . .or . . .did he?
As I sat back in my chair, I thought to myself, "I did tell him about re-scheduling, right?" I have now reached the age where I-think-I-did and I-did merge together to create its own special reality. The only difference is that as one ages, s/he becomes exponentially stubborn about admitting that such a phenomenon occurs. Later, after a kind entreaty, Nick softened a bit and said that he might be able to get off an hour early. . .if he got all his work done early at Cub. Ok, I could live with that.
On Friday afternoon, I sent a text to Erika to remind her: "Remember church pics at 8."
Erika: "How long"
Me: "IDK"
Erika: "I need to know"
Me:"I suppose it depends on how on schedule they are and how cooperative we are"
Erika: "Guess"
Me: "1/2 hour at the very most"
Erika: "OMG why"
Knowing that all the burgeoning drama was due to the fact that a) there was a home football game, and b) there was a new young suitor on the line, I suggested that she wear her clothes for the pic to the game and shoot across to church (which is directly across from the football field ****and meet us there at 8. There were a few more pointed texts about attire *****and the time of rendezvous ******, but Erika was taken care of. Check.
By 7:45 p.m. Mike and I were sitting in front of Cub, waiting for Nick to exit *******. When he didn't appear, Mike went in to get him. When he exited, shaking his head, I knew that it wasn't because there was a pack of angry bees swarming his head. As he opened the door and slid into the seat, Mike reported, "He said he will be out in five minutes. He wants to work until 8."
"But we have to be there at 8!" I yelled ********.
After five minutes, Nick still had not appeared. I tapped the steering wheel. I reached for the ignition. . .three separate times. Then, I opened the door, and as I exited the vehicle, I could hear my long-suffering, exasperated husband say, "Oh, my. Here we go."
As I entered Cub, I made eye contact with #1 son, waved, and mouthed "we're leaving" as I abruptly turned around. As I was making my way out, I saw two of his co-workers and stopped to say hi*********. Nick was close on my heels, and I could tell by the flaring of the nostrils that the bull had been poked.
Speeding somewhat**********, Nick changed in the backseat***********, and we "shared our feelings with one another" on the way to church. As I entered the parking lot, my phone began buzzing loudly in my purse. "Will someone get that, please?" I asked, "I'm sure it's Erika, wondering where we are."
Right. The phone continued to buzz again and again. "WILL SOMEONE PLEASE ANSWER MY PHONE?! I AM DRIVING HERE!" Loath to dig in my purse, neither made a move. For whatever reason, the boys in my house seem to think that a woman's purse is like a giant snake pit into which no one of the male species is ever allowed to enter.
After parking the car, I grabbed my phone out of my purse. Sure enough, Erika had called me. . .five times. Grumbling and muttering, we ran across the parking lot; Erika was waiting for us at the front door: "Um, you told me I had to be here by 7:45. You're late."
"It's your brother's fault," I said pointedly. "He wouldn't leave work."
"Solid color, huh? Then, why is Dad wearing that sweater?" She replied, pointing at Mike. To explain, Mike was wearing a solid gray sweater with an argyle front.
Not wanting to get stuck in one of Erika's tangled verbal labyrinths************, I simply said, "Because he looks good in that sweater" as I brushed by her."*************
As we approached the check-in desk, it was just as I feared; they were behind schedule. Normally, I don't care, but since I had pulled Thing 1 and Thing 2 from their preferred activities, I knew I was never going to hear the end of it.
As usual, I was so right.
First, Nick started in, "So we are going to be late, huh, Mom? I had to leave work early. . " Then, Erika cut in and tag-teamed, "Oh my gosh, seriously? We have to hurry up. I left _____ at the game, and I didn't tell him where I was going. . ."
Ugh, even though I didn't have to use the restroom, I escaped under the guise of needing a potty break. After a few deep breaths to restore my equilibrium, I was ready to head back into the ring. After fifteen more minutes of bickering **************, it was our turn.
And just like that, aliens (presumably) entered the bodies of our two children, and they turned into cooperative, cajoling subjects for the Lifetouch guy. "Do you two get along?" he asked in attempt to put them at ease.
"Oh yes," Erika smiled and gushed, "We're the best of friends."
I choked, and Mike rolled his eyes. Then, he looked at me, shook his head, and started to smile.I wasn't quite to the point where I thought this was a charming moment, but then again, Mike has always had a much higher tolerance threshhold. It's part of the reason why this marriage works so well.
And so, we cheesy-smiled our way through the portrait session where our family picture will soon be found in the church directory. After it was all said and done, I received a text from Erika that said, "Sorry for the sass." Nick, too, must have been remorseful because as we were dropping him off at a friend's house, he gave me a pat on the shoulder, which is as close to an apology as I am going to get.
As we drove home, I thought about the fact that this would probably be the last family picture we would take for church. In five years, Nick will be 24, Erika will be 22, and both will more than likely no longer be living at home. While I had wanted a Waltons moment . . .for the last picture to be memorable ***************, I should have known better. We are, and have never been, the Waltons. Rather than reminisce about fun trips and happy events, my kids prefer to re-tell and giggle over our family faux pas and embarrassing moments. Ok, I guess I will take that; those stories definitely bind us together. And now, thanks to Friday night, we'll have a new one to laugh about. . .eventually.
* Members who only show up on the three important church holidays:
Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter
** Cupcakes (aka jammie pants) are applied by no later than 7:00 pm on
weeknights. On weekends, and if it has been an especially trying week,
cupcakes are on by 6:00 pm, and are accompanied by a glass of whatever
wine happens to be in the house
*** Note to self: 6:00 a.m. is not a good time to discuss anything with a
teenager. EVER.
**** How convenient
***** Wear something long-sleeved and solid-colored
****** Erika: "I will be there at 8" vs. Mom: "Be there at 7:45"
******* Nick's car had been sold at 5:00 pm, so he had no wheels and had to be
picked up from work.
******** Prior to having children, Mike and I were the most punctual people on the
planet. . .for realz. We were ALWAYS fifteen minutes early for everything.
Then, we had kids and blew that track record clean out of the water.
********* As a teacher, rudeness is never an option.
********** Ok, excessively. Sorry, law enforcement officers. Usually, I am a very
temperate, responsible driver. However, stress and driving is an ugly
combo for Missy.
*********** Yes, I had picked out his outfit AND ironed his shirt.
************ If Erika had been the lawyer at OJ Simpson's trial, that man would never
have seen the light of day again. Word.
************* Yes, I went there. I pulled the parental "because" card.
************** One-sided. I refused to play. I opted for the silent treatment, which is a
deadly weapon to kids. They know how to combat tears and volcanic
explosions, but silence plays with their minds.
*************** For the record, it WAS memorable.
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