Took a Fall at Mile 23

Well, this marathon was about over, or so I thought. I had one more important thing to do -- get Salinda and Sadie down for a visit to see John. Salinda's friend had been here since Saturday morning, and needed to go home. So, as we're walking out the door, Salinda says, "Mom, you know _____ lives in _______, right?" Of course, I didn't know. I had never picked her up before and she goes to school in town, so I had budged plenty of time to take her home HERE IN TOWN. We left hurriedly because I figured we had time to get there and back. Already feeling the stress, the girls decided that this would be a good time to discuss how they didn't like their middle names that we gave them and other such issues which further annoyed me because I didn't have time to discuss anything important in great detail.

Well my mistake was assuming that she lived on the closer side of town, but she didn't, and so we ended up leaving her house with me knowing that we were going to be very late. I did a great job of holding in my frustration until Salinda decided to tell me that my decision about which way to get back to the highway (which I knew was the fastest) was going to make us late. Even though I had sworn to myself that I didn't need to say anything (she already knew her oversight was making us late) I lost it at this point and had to yell a bit. It didn't make me feel better. Or her either. I apologized after 15 minutes of stony silence, but I wasn't making much progress.

So, knowing we need to make up time to get there so that we can see John, I go a bit too fast coming out of a small town and get pulled over and get a nice ticket. At this point in time I felt like I had skidded across the ground on my face a few miles away from the finish line of a 26.2 mile marathon, with a sprained ankle. Emotionally I just wanted to lie down and give up.

But as you all know, giving up is not an option. I was 20 miles from where John is currently living, and we needed to see him. Fortunately, the speeding ticket lightened up the mood a bit (oddly) and from then on the trip got better. John was happy to see us, the visit went well, and I bought the girls ice cream on the way home.

I came home, however, to news that Tony and Jimmy had had another fight and to an update on Dominyk's obsession. Apparently, the combination of his strep throat and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder was not a good combination. He somehow got it in his head that he needed to have his epiglottis removed. No matter how many times we have explained it to him today, he did not understand it's purpose and kept asking for us to take him to the doctor to have it taken out. Bart said that he spent the majority of the afternoon touching it and making himself gag.

Finally, I came downstairs with him to show him on the internet that the epiglottis is an important body part and that he really needed to have one. "Well," he responded, "can I get a different one? I think I need a transplant."


But it looks like I'm going to make it. Only a couple more hours until bedtime and then Easter weekend 2008 will be history. We still have two more days without school, but at least all the stress of Holy Week and Easter and Kyle's girlfriend visiting and special meals and ties and white shirts will be put to rest at last.

I bet I am one of very few mothers in the world whose child asked for an epiglottis transplant tonight. Quite possibly the only one.