Over the river and through the woods….
if only that’s the way our trips to grandmother’s house would go. But no, our most recent sojourn to Mimi’s place was a lot more like “over the Throg’s Neck and through the puke.” Allow me to explain.
On a sweltering summer day, I decided that it was high time for me, stay-at-home-mom that I have become, to take the kids to grandma’s house for a relaxing visit and swim in their pool. Ha! Loaded all three kids, all of the swimming and relaxing and distracting accoutrements each of them required and added the two dogs. Our own loving and beloved spaniel mix and our current foster puppy, who I am now convinced is not a Golden Lab and Beagle mix as we were told, but a Pit Bull-Jack Russell cross. He is very affectionate, but – well, yesterday I turned around and he was standing on top of the kitchen table. Anyway, said foster puppy was highly reluctant to enter the mini-van, so I added all sorts of toys, treats, bones, etc to entice him in. And yes, I did take water and food away from both dogs about an hour before we were scheduled to leave, to avoid any bodily function disasters. On the dogs’ part, anyway.
10 minutes into the trip and just as we entered the bumper-to-bumper traffic that precedes the Throg’s Neck Bridge, an unmistakable and overwhelming odor wafted through the van. Everyone under the age of 21 began screaming, crying and mock-retching while I exploded into an unprecedented (even for me) string of expletives. Everyone in that car can now make sailors blush on four different continents (not that they couldn’t before).
Pile of dog poop on the back seat, quickly followed by and even larger pile of dog puke. I jumped the curb, pulled onto the median and no, our 6 year-old Honday Odyssey mini-van is not 4-wheel drive, so I had no idea if we’d ever make it out again. I found some old newspapers and plastic bags and with 6 trial-size bottles of Purell, managed to clean up the worst of the mess. Got back in the van, fought our way off the median and into traffic. Every other driver was screaming at me and honking their horns, and I screamed back, until my youngest said “I know why they’re yelling at us! The back door is open!” Yeah, mom of the year drove over the Throg’s Neck with the rear hatch wide open. Luckily, no children, animals or prized possessions were lost, though their innocence certainly was.
Mouse update: dead and flattened mouse seen in location of release. Ironically, flattened mouse appeared to be running back in the direction of our home. Don’t tell me he didn’t know a good thing when he saw it!
a cotton candy machine ate me alive
Or tried to — who knew cotton candy could be dangerous? Certainly not I, except that being 99% sugar and 1% various artificial and toxic non-foodstuffs, it will wreak havoc on my teeth, which is a sore spot already (for me, anyway). My kids’ elementary school has an annual fund-raising spring fair. I’ve been in charge of the fund-raising brochure the past few years, which consists of six months of begging friends, family and strangers for money to support the under-privileged children of Scarsdale NY. Hmmm.
So I abandoned fund-raising for one fun-filled day of making cotton candy — it’s pretty, pink and fluffy and my kids would be overjoyed at having an in at the cotton candy booth.
1 1/2 hours into my 3 hour commitment and my husband peers into the machine and says, “you’d better be careful — I’m serious!” Ha, ha, ha hubby! you are so funny! It’s a hot, sunny day, long line of kids waiting for their floaty confection, kids asking for change, someone else telling me about why she prefers soda in a can, etc, etc. I spy a big glob of cotton candy at the bottom of the drum which is preventing me from creating the perfect cone of spun sugar joy, so I shove my hand in to pluck it out and AAAAAAAAA!!!!!
yeah — kids traumatized, cotton candy booth shut down, my finger nail ripped off (and then sewn back on), broken finger and nine stitches. Best part: nurse on duty screaming louder than me — “I don’t do emergencies!!!!!! I’m just supposed to treat kids with skinned knees!”
That was Saturday. Today, Tuesday, I had phase two of my gum surgery — skin cut from my palate was grafted onto my lower gums. About a thousand stitches in my mouth. No pain killers to go. I’ve got more stitches than a Raggedy Ann doll, plus all the nerve endings of an almost alive and kicking human being. Good thing hubby bought a case of wine last week.