I want to give a shout-out to all of the moms of teenage daughters.
Keep the faith. Have hope. You will one day get along with your girl-child again.
I am evidence of that.
My Chicky, as you know, surprised me with a visit home this weekend.
Every time I remember the sight of her sitting on her bed, waiting for me to enter, I tear up.
We had the most fabulous weekend EVER!
It didn’t take her long to set up shop in the bathroom…
She complained that Rooster had not cleaned her sink while she was gone.
Hello? With a double vanity and nobody using that sink, why should he? I promised to do so before she returned for Thanksgiving.
I didn’t see much of her Saturday. She, Guy Friend, and the friends they had brought home with them headed to the shopping plaza on the beach for a day of fun. Then, they went to Guy Friend’s house, where his mom cooked everyone dinner.
I was content to stay home and work. I was not about to make Chicky feel guilty about not spending every moment with me. I was happy just knowing that she would be returning at the end of the evening. Being able to give her tons of hugs made up for the time she spent away.
Did we argue?
Nope.
When she came home, she showed me the OPI fingernail polish she had bought. She even told me that I could use any of them. I did…
Chicky and I share a love for nail polish, and I appreciated her thoughtfulness.
On Sunday, we all got up and went to church. When we got there, I saw that Guy Friend and his mom had moved across the church to sit with us. It was wonderful. We took up the entire pew with our families and the two friends that had come home with the kids.
My heart swelled with pride. I felt like we were showing off the family. Just being able to worship together, after three months of Chicky being gone, was so wonderful.
I left Chicky and Guy Friend at church so I could run to the grocery store to pick up a couple of items for lunch. The plan was to cook Chicken Parmesan and make the Chocolate Chip Cake that I’m known for.
Let’s just say that this is where things took the kind of turn that makes my life stay in perpetual turmoil.
While I was in CVS (another errand), my phone rang. It was the Mr.
“AuburnChick, did you let the dogs out this morning?”
“Yes, I always do.”
“Well, one of the dogs left a huge pile of poop in the kitchen for you, and it smells to high heaven.”
“Aren’t you going to clean it up?” I asked.
“Nooooooooo!!!!!!!!! I’m gagging here.” The Mr. has always had an aversion to poop…human and animal kinds.
“Please tell me you’re kidding,” I said. We’re known to play jokes on each other.
“I’m not. There is a huge pile of poop, and you have to clean it up when you get home,” he said.
Great.
We briefly discussed which dog might have done the deed.
Pele became the prime suspect…
Don't let his innocent look fool you
We think that Pele must have been constipated the last few days. For days, I had smelled the warning signs…seepages of poop-infused gas, but I’d chosen to ignore them. With three dogs and two male humans in the house, I’ve learned to live with odd smells.
Apparently, Pele’s innards finally got the best of him. Poor little guy.
Now, here’s where I got mad. There I was running errands, in a rush to get home to my baby girl, who had gone by Guy Friend’s house to say goodbye to his mom.
I not-so-nicely said, “Be a man. Clean the poop. Real men clean dog poop.”
I think I might have hung up on him at that point.
I’m nice that way.
I made my way to Publix in a not-so-good mood.
My phone rang while I was there. It was the Mr.
“Let’s just go out to eat. The smell is horrible. I can’t eat with this smell.”
Great. I had already defrosted three bags of chicken and trimmed the fat and cut the breasts into small pieces.
“Open the windows to air out the house. We’ll be fine.”
Meanwhile, my call waiting went off. Chicky was on the other line.
“Mama, I’m home. I cleaned the poop, and boy was it big!”
She’d used a bath towel to gather up the poop and, without thinking, dumped the “package” in the outside garbage can…without putting it in a plastic bag. I later reached into the can to get the towel, but it unrolled, and the poop went down into the bottom of the can.
Great. The garbage people are really going to love me. I did not dig into the can to gather the poop but left it loose. Trash day isn’t until Wednesday.
Gag.
During my conversation with Chicky, no mention was made of lunch.
While I was checking out, my phone rang AGAIN. It was someone…I have forgotten who it was. At this point, I’d talked to almost everyone in the family. I think it was Rooster.
“Mama. Daddy says to buy a candle. A big candle. The windows aren’t airing out the house enough.”
Great.
I looked for the biggest candle I could find.
Paula Dean to the rescue. She does everything big…
By the time I got home, it had been decided that poop smell is not very palatable.
We went to Red Lobster instead and let Paula do her thing.
Everyone ate too much, but I was glad. It gave us plenty of time for some good conversation.
I learned that “N,” the guy who had accompanied Guy Friend, wants to go into missions work. “A” is going to become an elementary teacher. They are from Missouri and are the cutest couple.
Before I knew it, we had to take Chicky back to the house so she could grab something she forgot. The bathroom returned to normal…
We took family pictures, and then I drove her to Guy Friend’s house.
Oh, the goodbyes…they just do not get easier.
I hugged her and told her how much the weekend had meant to me.
This girl-child of mine…the one who I fought constantly with for the last ten years…had managed to pull off one whopper of a surprise.
I was and still am so incredibly touched. In fact, my eyes are tearing up even as I am typing this.
The goodbye today was hard. It’s a little different when she’s on my turf and walking away.
As she said, though, it’s only two weeks until Thanksgiving.
I will be counting down the minutes.
Meanwhile, Paula will be keeping watch over the smells in my house.
Filed under: children | Tagged: children. parenting, paula dean | 5 Comments »
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