Two Bizarre Phone Calls; Four Staples in His Head; and A Remote Control Car Stuck in Her Hair…Just A Couple of Reasons I Should Never Leave My House
AUTHOR: Carolyn Savage | POSTED: 07/14/14 1:35 PM
CATEGORIES: Blog, college, From The Files of You Can't Make This Sh*t Up
My sister-in-law, Jo Ann, and I have a lot of repetitive conversations. One of them always starts with, “If I die please promise me …”. I’ve filled in the blank with making her promise SHE’LL pick out my casket attire; SHE’LL make sure my house is clean before my wake; and–as should’ve been the case this past Saturday–SHE’LL supervise anytime Sean feels the need to cut one of our daughter’s hair.
Why was Sean cutting Mary Kate’s hair?
Well, let me start from the beginning.
Ryan is searching for colleges. He’ll begin his senior year in August and in an attempt to get our parental ducks in a row we have scheduled four college visits before the academic year begins. Early in June Ry and I set off on a two night road trip to visit Indiana University in Bloomington, and my alma mater, Miami University in Oxford, Ohio. Both schools have stellar business programs–which is what Ryan wants to study. One of the schools fit his criteria. He wants a “big school”. One where he can earn a reputable degree AND have fun attending football and basketball games. If you know anything about Miami, you know that it’s football and basketball teams are not all that great. I admit it. I kind of forced him to look. But damn. The Farmer School of Business at Miami? Well, it doesn’t get a whole lot better than that…and it’s in-state, too.
Needless to say. He loved IU.
Even though he was impressed with the possibility of being a Hoosier we are doing our due diligence. That’s why this past Saturday the two of us trekked to Columbus, to visit THE Ohio State University. When I told Sean I’d scheduled the admissions tour for a Saturday he was excited. With Ryan and I gone, he’d have a day to himself with the girls.
I know. I’m lucky. He’s that kind of dad.
I’m sure he had all kinds of fun, “hey-girls…Mom’s out of town so we can do all that stuff she doesn’t like for the next eight hours” activities planned. Unfortunately, the morning didn’t turn out as he’d hoped. It all started to go south when–in true Sean form– he was running late for MK’s cross country practice. As the story goes he was in a hurry, buckled the girls into their car seats, threw the twin’s stroller in the back of the Suburban and in his haste… slammed his head in the door.
Let me repeat that, HE slammed his OWN head in HIS car door.
I’m just not really sure how that’s even physically possible, and at the dinner table last night he admitted that he’s not all that sure how it happened either. Regardless, he gashed his head something fierce. (i.e., blood covering his hands and dripping down his face.)
Sorry for the gory details, but I’m painting the picture for you in order to foreshadow the shock of what he did next.
Because Sean is a runner and he loves all things running; and because this was only MK’s second cross country practice…which is about running; he grabbed a towel and drove her to practice.
I’m sure it was quite a scene. Sean arrived at the park. There were 45 other kids there…with their non-bleeding parents…and he jogged into the activity as if nothing was wrong…except the bloody towel on his head was kind of a dead give-away that things weren’t quite right.
This episode was the topic of the first bizarre phone call.
Ryan and I toured OSU and I’m happy to report, he also LOVED it. This is good. Now he has two potential schools for a college education. It was a two and a half hour presentation and walking tour that concluded with he and I crawling to our car in hopes of getting to the nearest restaurant. Like I said. We loved the school. What was less than optimal was the timing of the tour. It required us to skip lunch. We were famished and when Ryan is hungry he’s crabby. And, when I’m hungry, I’m bitchy (And when I say I’m bitchy let me clarify that being pregnant and hungry takes me to a whole ‘nother level of bitchy. I was REALLY bitchy.) So, after two huge subs from Potbelly’s followed with a plethora of sides that we just couldn’t resist, we were comfortably nursing food comas on the drive home. That’s when the next bizarre call came in.
When I saw the phone ring I figured it was Sean telling me he was finally relenting and going to urgent care. After all, according to all our texts since the 9:30 am head slamming incident, he was still bleeding.
Me: You need stitches.
Sean: Maybe. I’d rather just take a nap.
Me: A nap isn’t going to stop your head from bleeding.
Sean: I know. I think I’ll just take the girls to the park.
On the bright side the next phone call had nothing to do with his head. Unfortunately, it had everything to do with Mary Kate’s hair…and a remote control car. Hey…I said it was going to be bizarre.
Drew: Mom? (Said in that daunting tone that means something’s wrong. Really wrong.)
Me: What’s wrong?
Drew: Um. Well…MK was playing with the Strawberry Shortcake remote control car and she got it stuck in her hair. Like really stuck.
Me: What? How?
Of course, no one cared to explain. And as I processed exactly what he was saying I realized I could here MK crying in the background. I couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying but it sounded a lot like, “It hurts!” followed promptly by repeated requests for her father to put down the scissors.
Sean has scissors? Holy Sh*t.
Me: Is Dad trying to cut it out?
Me: Tell him to put down the scissors. NOW!
But it was too late. There was a shriek. A wale. And then I overheard something about the car eating her hair.
When Sean finally explained that he was left with no other choice–that the car was REALLY stuck—he finished with “Meh…it’s not really that bad. You can’t even tell! You know, unless you look closely.”
I hung up the phone, exasperated. Saturday morning I’d gotten her hair into a pony tail for the very first time. We celebrated. I was ecstatic thinking of how easy it would be to pull it back from now on. No more braiding. No more wrestling it into a presentable “bob” so she didn’t look like Medusa at school. A pony tail would be so easy.Who knew a remote control car and a scissor-happy father–who was bleeding from the head–would thwart my dreams of carefree little-girl-hair… within eight hours of the first pony tail?
I hadn’t even had a chance to send Jo Ann an SOS.
What is it they say about best laid plans?
On Sunday afternoon Sean finally decided the bloody-towel-on-the-head look was getting old. Four staples in the head later I’m happy to report he’s fine.
MK’s hair has since been trimmed. It still, kind of, goes in a pony tail…with the help of a lot of hair spray and a headband.
And, Ryan’s next and last college visit to Michigan State University has been rescheduled from a Saturday to a week day. A babysitter has been hired… and there won’t be a remote control car in sight.
Then, just maybe then, I can leave the house for a day without a bizarre phone call.
Now, let’s all hold hands and knock on wood together.