AUTHOR: Carolyn Savage | POSTED: February 21, 2013 | COMMENTS: 10 Comments
Sometimes I wonder if I’ve managed to nurture any common sense in my children. I mean, most days, most minutes, I’m a pretty proud mama. Our boys have turned out to be reasonably bright and appropriately compassionate young men. I don’t spend a lot of time worrying about the people they are becoming because from what I can see, they are actually much better off than I was at their age. (Um…I try not to think about my teenage self too much. It will take many more years of therapy to tell those stories.)
Unfortunately, just when I’m about to polish their pedestals and give myself the mom-you-done-pretty-good award, one of my little princes slaps me back into reality, and I realize there’s more work to be done.
Case in point, Tuesday.
Drew Mom, I’ve lost my keys at the park. Can you call a locksmith and come and get us?
Me Where is your extra set?
Drew In the car.
Me Are both sets in the car?
Drew No. You see, a funny thing happened…
Can I just say how much I hate sentences that begin with “a funny thing happened” because usually “the thing” isn’t even remotely funny. It’s absurd. And I should know. I am the queen of absurd. In fact, there were signs early on in my life that maybe, just maybe, I might be headed towards a life of absurd. And not silly, ha-ha absurd. Nope. I mean “you can’t make this shit up” absurd.
For instance, when I was sixteen and I finally got to get my driver’s license (I say finally because my parents moved our family from Michigan to Illinois when I was fifteen and a half which resulted in me having to take driver’s education classes twice. Apparently Michigan driver’s ed wasn’t up to par with Illinois driver’s ed, which is insane because anyone who’s ever driven in Illinois knows that it’s a distinct possibility that no one in the entire state–or at least Chicago– has ever taken a driving class. But I digress…) I had an absurd experience during my road test. I wrecked my mom’s car, and we’re not just talking a fender bender here, folks. Nope. This was full out collision complete with tow trucks, police cars, fire trucks and traffic citations. I actually got a ticket for failing to yield at a stop sign before I got my driver’s license…with the secretary of state dude in my car.
And…an indication that I may not be headed down a path of normalcy.
(I have many absurd stories in my arsenal. Stick around.)
So…back to the lost keys, lock out situation…
Drew: You see, I always put my keys on top of a bird feeder while I run, and there’s a stupid hole in the bird feeder, and it’s really windy and my keys blew into the hole and now they’re in the bird feeder and I can’t reach them.
Now, at this point I had to stop myself and carefully consider my next move. Did I really want to confirm what I already suspected? That the “stupid hole” was actually the hole that allowed the birds to access the feeder? Or was I better off not knowing? I mean, ignorance really is bliss…right?
Me: Let me get this straight. Your car keys are in a bird feeder because for what ever God-forsaken-reason you decided that hiding your car keys on a bird feeder was a good idea…and…your extra set is locked in your car?
Drew: Yes. And, it’s not that dumb. We always hide our keys on the bird feeder and I’m not the only one this has happened to. Andrew (Drew’s teammate) lost his keys in the feeder about a month ago. We can see them, we just can’t reach them.
Now I know I have failed because not only is my son trying to convince me that hiding his keys on top of a bird feeder is perfectly acceptable, but, he’s also admitting that his friend lost his keys in the same “stupid hole” a month ago. I mean wouldn’t the first loss-of-keys-in-the-stupid-bird-feeder-hole incident be an indicator that hiding keys on that bird feeder might be a bad idea?
That’s when I realized that I really couldn’t be all that mad. This boy is mine. I raised him. He’s had a front row seat to my own absurd antics.
That whole “apples and trees” thing can really bite a mom in the ass sometimes.
So, I loaded the girls into the car, called a locksmith and explained to said locksmith that he’d either have to break into a my son’s Toyota Highlander or a bird feeder to solve my problem.
Turns out the bird feeder was the easier option.
Now smile. The weekend is coming!