Julie Asks – Am I an Adult Yet?

I’m hiding in my closet.  Door shut.  Room dark.  I am searching for my happy place, and thinking it’s somewhere right now in LA along with Julie (my wife and keeper of the blog).  This is a special report: 

All Quiet on the Eastern Front

So Julie is in LA with her mom visiting her brother and family for Big Sunday, but I’m not reporting on that…we’ll leave it up to J to fill us all in on those details when she gets back to Boston.  After four days alone with my two boys I have other things on my mind and I’m wanting to share.

When I told Julie today of my desire to be a special guest blogger in her absence her reaction was simply, “sure, are you going to be mean (read: to me)”  Well, no (read: not to you).      

This is easier than I thought

Thursday and Friday were uneventful given Julies absence.  Believe me, it coulda gone either way but fortunately for all involved, things were running fine with the boys.   Both Harrison and Georgie got up and ready for school without incident.  Drop off for G was easy, fast and painless.  Hmmm, that was easy. 

Failing a field sobriety test

Friday afternoon I left work early to get Georgie at extended (Julie had the foresight to make sure we had extra coverage. God bless her).  During my drive from Cambridge to school I was visited by another episode of Vertigo.  The Doctor told me it can be brought on by stress.  I’m thinking I just left work early to get G after a week of additional days in extended school during which time J has not been around to buffer.  Anyone who knows G will quickly understand that there is no correlation to stress here.

So I get to school and wobble out of the car staggering like I’m drunk.  Trust me, I know what it’s like to attempt to walk while intoxicated.  I’m just not sure anyone witnessing in the parking lot would have realized what was going on.  “Mommy, why is Georgie’s dad having trouble walking straight?”  “Well honey, it looks to me that he’s suffering from a case of Vertigo.”  Ah, right.  

So when I had to step back to catch myself and hold onto a pole as I walked into the classroom (lest I fall flat on my face) I’m sure I made a great impression on the young male kindergarten teacher.  ”Hi I’m here to get Georgie…ooooooopsie! (read: very awkward moment as our eyes caught).  Recognizing that disapproving look, a call from DSS on Monday or Tuesday is a very good possibility.  I’m thinking I gotta get outa here.  Fast.

Me:  “Hi Georgie, can you get your stuff together, I’m not feeling great.” 

G:  “Ya, whatever.” 

Me:  “Really, I’m not feeling good, do you think you could speed it up I want to get home.

G:  Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.

Me:  “Really George, could you please walk a little faster.  Please.”

G:  Shuffle…shuffle……………………………shuffle.

In the car driving home G spots a group of girls from Harrison’s grade walking on the sidewalk.  We stop at the red light beside the group.  He recognizes some of them.

G:  Out car window “Hey M******, your heads too big.  You look funny with such a big head.”

Me:  “Damn it George, shut that window, who said you could roll it down and say such things…”

Me:  “Sorry honey, he doesn’t know what he’s saying, he’s just obnoxious sometimes.  You have a very lovely er, ah…face.”

K, one call from DSS.  One call from the mother of an insecure upset tween girl.  Can’t wait.

Dinner is swerved

I serve the chicken, mashed potato and squash that my mom picked up at the market (she dropped off for us for dinner, thanks mom!).  It was a total pity meal.  Twas this or “dad’s famous craft macaroni and cheese.”  While preparing the dizzy happy meal, world war three breaks out in the family room (between guess who?).  The details are not important (believe me) but suffice it to say, I was at my end. 

G timeout in corner.  Crying.  Blaming H. 

H timeout his room.  Muttering something I choose to ignore.  Blaming G.

Its then that I remember the dream that I had from the night before.  I was with George W. Bush in the Oval Office (I often dream about meetings with presidents, etc.  I had a dream once where George W. and I were on his ranch about to get in his pickup but no one wanted to get behind the wheel to drive.  Wonder what the significance of that dream was).  and George was penning a letter to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad (crazy maniac from Tehran), when George asked me if I know how to spell his name.  “No” I answered thinking it would be rude if I knew how to spell something the president didn’t.  In actuality I’m thinking that presidents should know how to spell certain things like potato and Ahmadinejad (which I do know how to spell  as proven by this copy).  I also think presidents should know what their spiritual leaders have been saying for the past oh, say 20 years especially when they castigate the US with the rhetoric of damnation, blame the HIV outbreak on America and equate US policy with state sponsored terrorism….but I digress.

So Julie is back late Monday night.  Can’t wait.  I miss her.  G misses her terribly.  Harrison, not sure he knew she was gone.

As we get ready for school Tuesday morning the phone rings and displays ”Department of Social Services.” 

Me:  “Julie honey pick up it’s for you.”