The Post-Christmas Return to School

Today we got our van back and the hormone surges and mood swings in this house have been returned to normal we had to return Teen back to school. We've been counting down the days known that we were going to have to return her since the day we picked her up more than 2 weeks ago, but then last week we realized that 1 of us would have to stay home because Banshee had a birthday party to attend and asking her to miss it would be like asking her to give up her first born child. I drew the short straw offered to take her because my Other Half doesn't necessarily enjoy long drives like that.

We offered to drive another girl back that lives in our old 'hood (who goes to the same school) back, but she's got a car now and was driving herself. Initially she offered to drive Teen back with her - TOMORROW (as in Monday), but that wouldn't fly because my ultra-studious and conscientious student has an 8:00am class tomorrow - and I know that she would never, ever miss a class - especially 8:00am classes. Then, at 1:30am today, Teen got a text from this gal offering to take her today, leaving around noon. I was ecstatic - I mean, I know I'd be missing out on driving almost 7 hours round trip, and the cost of the gas, and the tolls, the traffic...but I was thrilled at the prospect of lounging around all day doing nothing - you know, the nothing like laundry, vacuuming, dishes, grocery shopping, dusting.

Then, at 7:00am when I dragged my sorry arse out of bed, I started to think about it. A LOT. Damn thinking always gets me into trouble. Teen, much like her mother, doesn't pack or travel lightly. Seriously - I think she brought everything she owns home except for the furniture. For real - I'm sure that every article of clothing she owns came home - because you know, you never know when you'll need tank tops, bikini's and sundresses in the middle of winter in the frozen Tundra. Also, she was ridiculously spoiled had a couple of Christmas gifts to bring back with her too, along with a shit-ton of clothes that she bought on Boxing Day because you know, keeping those Christmas gift cards and money in her purse for a couple of months until she actually NEEDED something would be blasphemy towards all shopaholics a few things she picked up on Boxing Day. When I mentioned this to my Other Half, he blew it all off saying that "it would be fine". Because I'm female Being the Mom, I just knew he was COMPLETELY wrong I wasn't so convinced. Finally, we went and woke Teen asking what kind of car this girl had and if she was going to have space for Teen's stuff. They talked back and forth and they were "pretty sure" it would fit. Loosely translated into Momanese, that means there's no way in hell it was going to fit. Turns out this gal drives a Toyota Echo. I knew FOR SURE it wouldn't fit, I mean, Teen had her room jam-packed with all her stuff, and that wasn't including all the groceries that she needed (let me add that for a skinny little gal that doesn't eat much of anything, that bugger cost me a bloody fortune on groceries today - WOW!! Funny how when Mom is footing the bill, cost is no issue!). SO...my bubble was burst, and I announced that I was going to drive her back.

And I did.

We loaded all her stuff into the van. It was ridiculous. SO. MUCH. STUFF. Then we went to the grocery store. The van was PACKED. Honest to God, I don't travel light, but this kid brings it to a whole new level. WOW. Along the way, we passed a couple of Echo's on the road. I laughed right out loud and would look in the rearview mirror knowing that there was no way in hell her stuff would have fit into that car. Not a ding-dong-diddly chance in hell. I'm not sure where her head was when she even thought for a second that it "might possibly" fit. Our van has HUGE amounts of space for "stuff", and there wasn't much room left - in fact I was glad that we weren't responsible for driving the other gal back because aside from riding on the roof, I don't know how we'd have fit her in.

I actually don't mind the drive - it gives us time to argue about everything chit-chat, and reconnect without her little sister right there nosing her way into things. It gives ME time to nose or pry into everything in her life. The drive itself there (and back) was uneventful. We made a few stops along the way (you know, spending money and all). Everything was great. We pulled into the parking lot at her apartment and quickly determined that there were very few people there (the parking lot was pretty much bare). I figured we would get stuff into her apartment lickety-split without having to share the elevator. Score!!! In the past, we've had to painfully wait for the elevator, so the prospect of having it all to ourselves to bring everything in was REALLY exciting.

And I was right. So fricken-fracken right. We definitely didn't have to share the elevator. In fact we couldn't use the elevator. At all. That mother-trucker was down. Broken. Totally powered off. Completely and utterly unuseable.

And we had a van FULL of shit to transport into her apartment. With no working elevator.

And she lives on the top floor of her building. On the 5th fucking floor. And we enter on the Lower Level.

And only the 2 of us to carry it all. A whole fucking van load of shit.

Son of a Bitch.

Initially I just wanted to push everything out of the back of the van, wave, and say, "So long, Sucka!", but...my maternal instincts kicked in, and with minimal grumbling, I helped lug her shit up those five fucking floors. I was wheezing, curled up in a ball in a puddle of beer on the landing of the 3rd floor crying and dying, begging someone - ANYONE - to put me out of my misery slightly winded by 4th trip up. Oh. My. Word. I'm SO out of shape. I honestly thought that I was going to die right there in that stairwell. For real. I'm somewhat "Fluffy", so strenuous exercise isn't my forte. I had to work REALLY hard to come back from the light that was beckoning to me, I mean, I don't really want my last breath to be in a stairwell at a student apartment complex, and especially not in front of my kid, so, I got up and finished the job. When it was time to leave, I contemplated just rolling down the stairs, but somehow I made it and didn't totally embarrass Teen. Well, maybe just a bit - I really was wheezing and coughing excessively. And sweating. And crying. And crawling on all fours to the van.

We said our good-byes, I gave her the obligatory, "behave yourself and take care of yourself" Mom speech, then I climbed into the van, handed her all the cash I had, and with that damn Mom-lump in my throat and the tears of joy in my eyes, I waved as I drove off, leaving my baby behind. Again.

Then, I went straight to Tim's got myself a tea, cranked the tunes, and drove myself home. Right into a house where world war 486829457234598 was breaking out between Imp and Banshee. WOW. Watch for those 2 on a future episode of Springer - they fight about EVERYTHING. ALL. OF. THE. TIME.

Now...onward to getting 2 crazy little creatures (and their father) back into the school routine tomorrow, after a 2 week hiatus.

God help me.

Being a Mom is so glamorous and fun ALL of the time.