Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Every Lesson Must be Learned the Hard Way

Last weekend we journeyed to a resort out of town to celebrate Mr. M's 44th birthday. We usually go up there for my birthday in February, but this year we can't do that because I'll be in Virginia, visiting my delicious new niece. We didn't want to miss out on our annual trip, though, so we decided to go for my guy's birthday instead. We left work early on Friday. We had some concerns about the roads because the temperature had dropped and there was just enough precipitation to cause much iciness. My other half loaded the car while I paid a bill and adjusted our thermostat.  He had already picked up the kid from school. She was doing her part to get us out of the house by staring at her iPad. Before long, we were on the road, dropping our dog off at for boarding and then heading north to our little getaway spot.

After making a couple of stops along the way, we decided that we may as well grab dinner before checking in at the resort. Because my husband can't make decisions - ever, no matter what - I helpfully chose a pizza place that has vegan pizza.  It was so good. I was excited to have the leftovers for the next day, too.

By 6:00 or so we had checked in and had settled into our two-bedroom suite. P was exhausted from working late the night before, so he dozed on the couch while the kid and I watched TV and whatnot. At around 7, my daughter asked if she could go swimming. I had not brought a swimsuit because the artist who did my tattoo made me promise that I would not marinate in chlorine while the tattoo is still healing. However, I was fully prepared to sit poolside and read while the kid splashed around and made friends with strangers.

"Sure thing," I said.  "Go ahead and put your swimsuit on."

"Where's my bag?" she asked.

"I don't know - in the other room?"

She shook her head and then we realized: we had not brought her duffle bag.

At this time, I need to go back in time a bit and explain a couple of things. In an effort to push my daughter towards a greater degree of personal responsibility, one of the few jobs I give her is to pack her own stuff when we are going out of town. On Tuesday, I picked her up from school and told her that the next day, I would bring her duffle bag up from the basement so that she could start packing. As promised, I handed her a spacious Disney World bag on Wednesday and told her not to forget about her swimsuit, socks, etc. On Thursday, I pushed her harder because I couldn't help but notice that the bugger was empty. Finally, she halfheartedly threw some of her crap into the bag. The next morning (the day we were leaving), I checked the bag and then reminded her about all of the things she had forgotten to pack. She also had a separate tote bag full of entertainment-type stuff for the trip, like her iPad, a book to read, etc.

Just to be clear: all she had to do was to throw her gear in a bag and then make sure the bag made it into the car. We had a huge pile of stuff that we were taking along. I had one bag just filled with baking supplies (to make my man a birthday cake). So, it doesn't really surprise me that he didn't notice that one bag was missing.

So it was that on Friday evening, I had a crying tween on my hands. The gravity of the situation hit her quickly - and hard.  No bag = no swimsuit = no swimming.  I know this was probably one of those "teach her a lesson" moments, but I decided to bail her out.  Fortunately, I'd only had a few sips of wine at that point (we'd stopped at a winery along the way).  So, I hopped in my car and headed back "into town."  It was about a 25-minute drive, but the roads were bad so I proceeded carefully. We were staying only about an hour and fifteen minutes from home but I really did not want to drive that far.  I headed towards a Walmart and kept my fingers crossed that they would have swimsuits.  They did not have swimsuits. Damn!  I picked up some socks, underwear, toothbrush, and a couple of inexpensive outfits for her (leggings and tee shirts).  I guess that was her punishment: she had to wear Walmart clothes for the weekend. I still needed to find a swimsuit.  I knew there was a Target on the other side of town, so I called over there to inquire about swimsuits. Hallelujah! They had them in stock. It was only 10 minutes or so to get to Target but I called first because the roads were getting worse and I didn't want to drive over there if I didn't have to.

When I arrived at Target, I quickly found the swimsuits and picked one out for Miss Only Thinks of Herself.  Moments later, I was back on the road and ready for my "relaxing weekend." By the time I returned, I had been gone for about two hours. I quickly refilled my wine glass and got back to the business of relaxing, but not before I delivered two ten more lectures on the topic of: "next time I tell you to take care of your own stuff, just do it."  I then sat by the pool for the next hour while Miss New Swimsuit That She Didn't Really Need Because She Has Plenty at Home swam.

Guess how much this baby dress costs?
Nope, you're wrong. $74.00
The rest of the weekend was pretty uneventful. On Saturday, I made a birthday cake and the kid and I did a bit of shopping. My husband is a huge fan of apple pie so I stopped at a pie place (seriously, that's all they sell) and got him a miniature apple pie - to the tune of $10.00. The proprietor went to great lengths to get me to join their "Pie Club," but I politely declined. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I don't like pie (even vegan pie).

For dinner, we decided to go to a Mexican place that was really close to the resort.  The resort was full of guests so we figured that maybe the restaurant would be crowded, too.  We figured wrong - we were the only people in the restaurant.  After dinner, there was more swimming. I'll be glad when my daughter is old enough that I can comfortably send her down to the pool by herself. For now, I don't mind sitting poolside. I watched some odds and ends on Netflix. I've just started watching Sherlock, which seems good so far.

We also ate cake (I have an amazing recipe for a vegan mayonnaise cake) and played some games on Saturday. We played Jenga for the first time. We were the last family on the planet to buy that game, I guess. We also attempted a round of Junior Pictionary, which resulted in many tears from the tween. We gave up. I felt kind of bad for her. Her dad and I have been together for 24 years and can practically read each other's minds. So when it comes to guessing the other person's drawing . . . sometimes we don't even have to put pencil to paper. Well, she just about lost her shit over that.

Finally, we ended the day by watching the Packers-Cardinals game (while the kid played Minecraft). I don't usually sit and watch football with my guy, but I didn't have anything else going on so I decided to humor him. I'm not sure if he really likes watching football with me, though. I think I've asked him to explain the whole "penalty declined" thing to me one too many times. (I always think of it like: "Excuse me, could I interest in you in a penalty?"  "Um, no thinks. I would like to decline your penalty. Thanks for the offer, though.") During this particular game, I asked him to explain why the kicker and the punter can't just be the same person.  You should have seen the incredulous look he gave me.

"What?! They are two separate jobs. For starters, the punter has to kick the ball from his own hand."

"Okay, but in both cases, it's just a dude swinging his leg and connecting with a ball, isn't it?"

He shook his head sadly and gave up.

So, that was our weekend. It started out with a minor crisis but ended up to be pretty relaxing. The temperature had dropped to 0 by the time we checked out of the resort on Sunday. Some poor dude went outside to start his truck and let it warm up . . . and promptly locked his keys inside with the engine running. So, when you're having a bad day, remember that guy . . . frantically shoving a fishing pole into his car with frozen fingers while another dude yells, "You've almost got it, bro!"

1 comment:

The Lovely One said...

So I asked The Agent the same question about the punter and the kicker.... he said they are often the same person, but there might be a back up kicker (you know, like a back up quarterback?), which would account for it looking like two different people were kicking the ball.

But then I said, "well, it might make sense that there are two different people, because one guy might kick it high, so it can go over the goal post thingies, and the other guy will specialize in punting it, because it has to go far, not necessarily high."

He gave me a look like I was brain damaged. "Babe, it's the same kick, whether he's punting it, or kicking it over the 'goal post thingies,' as you say."

I don't understand why guys think we're supposed to know these things. I don't expect him to be able to make chocolate chip cookies (although they're not hard.... why CAN'T he bake cookies????)