A reminder once again that this is stage 3 in my vacation series, if you haven't read stage 1 and stage2, it's like you just walked into the living room in the middle of a movie your husband/or wife has been watching for the past hour, sit down next to them, then proceed to ask them 100 questions on what's going on. "Why is that guy angry?" "What did that girl do to him?" "Why did that guy just hack up that little puppy?" "Just what IS the purpose of Jersey Shore?" Etc. Then your spouse finally blows up and tells you to get out and let him/her watch the rest of the movie in peace and you can go rent the movie and watch the WHOLE THING yourself. (The moral of this story is . . . . . GO READ STAGE 1 AND 2 so you will understand what's going on!!!!!. . . . . pant . . . pant. . . . THIS IS PART 3!!!! Who starts reading a book in the middle of it????? SHEESH!!!!!!)
Once Dad, or Mom, spoke those two magic words, "We're Here", the car would come alive.
The long car ride would be finally over for now. The car smells like sweat, kid's feet, wet bathing suits, stale peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that were shoved under the seat to avoid eating them, and the sweet smell of exhaustion. The packing job that Dad did so tediously has now taken on a much more chaotic, and post apocalyptic look because of all the moving, digging, squishing, and shoving that us three kids have done over the past 8-20 hours. Dad is too tired to care because he is the one that has done all the driving and he is just ready to climb into a bed, Mom is so sick of being the buffer between the kids and her husband that she just wants to get out of the car and leave the little spawns of Satan behind, us kids, however, are now filled with energy and adrenalin because they have been sleeping for the last two hours of the trip and we have finally arrived at THE DESTINATION!!!!!
Depending on your experience, arriving at the destination usually took on two forms. If you were going to see relatives, usually the relatives would rush out their front door and come greet you at the car. Dad and Mom would have to act like they were so excited to be there and the kids would rush out of the car and jump happily into whomever's arms were out stretched towards them. Of course, once the relative would catch a whiff of the B.O. coming off their Grandchild/Nephew/Niece, they would usually stop the hug instantly and opt to high five the other stinky children.
This was Dad's moment to shine though. He would climb out of that car and even while his arms were wrapping around whatever relative was there, he would announce to the world just how fast he made the trip in. Now he didn't round the numbers up or down at all, he would tell everyone the exact hours and minutes that it took. It was like some form of badge of honor if he managed to do it quicker than the other male relative that was there at the time. If the time was quicker than the other relative, then that relative would have to grunt out one of two responses to save their pride. "You must have been speeding." or "You must not have gotten as much traffic as I did." With both their manhood's intact, the next stage would begin. Unloading the car.
There are two different camps for this part. Camp A. would walk into the house first and take a seat to relax for a minute before tackling the job of lugging everything in. Camp B. would start immediately at the task at hand and would enlist everyone within 50 yards in helping with the unloading. "Here Grandma, grab this suitcase. Oh, you still have a free hand? Here, grab this heavy, stinky bag full of the wet bathing suits from the motel last night." No matter what camp your family was part of, it was the job of the kids to figure out a way to disappear as quickly as possible to get out of having to help unload the car. If done correctly, we wouldn't have to lift a thing during the unpacking and would get some valuable playtime in as well. If, however, you did get caught by Mom or Dad and told to grab some stuff out of the car, it was in your best interest to just grab the smallest item that you can and then act like it was heavy. You would be amazed at how heavy and burdensome I could make a pillow look. Then you would lug that one item into the house and make a beeline straight for the bathroom announcing to the world that you had to "Take the Browns to the super bowl" and then stay in there for as long as you possibly could until all the stuff was inside the house.
The only time this plan didn't work is if instead of visiting relatives, you were staying in a motel. Then you didn't have a chance at getting out of the work because there were only a few of you and there was no place to hide. You all became pack mules and it was just better for all involved if you got it done as quickly as possible.
Now I'm going to break this up into the two different experiences we had depending on if we either were staying with relatives or staying in a motel.
If we were staying with relatives, the same thing would usually happen first . . . The announcement of the sleeping arrangements. This was such a predictable routine, but it would play out the same every time. Whoever the relative we were staying at would announce where my Mom and Dad were sleeping first. "Fred and Betty, you will be sleeping in OUR bed and we will be sleeping on the fold out couch in the den." They would put extra emphasis on the word OUR, to let everyone know the sacrifice that they were making and they might as well say, " . . . and we will be sleeping in the most uncomfortable place we could imagine", by the way they inflected the sentence. You would then get the protest from my folks, "No, we will sleep in the den. You don't have to give up your bed for us." Then the rebuttal from my relative, "The decision is already made." To which the subject was now dropped because, truth be told, my folks didn't want to sleep on that lumpy piece of crap fold out couch anyways according to the conversation I heard them having in the car earlier. As far as us kids were concerned, we would find the nearest guest bed, couch, or floor that we could find to sleep on, because kids are expected to be able to sleep just about anywhere, and sad but true, they are right. Kids CAN sleep anywhere.
If you were staying at a hotel, after unloading the car, us kids wouldn't even bother asking. We would find that stinky, wet bag of our swimming suits and just put them on. Once again, I cannot stress the horrible pain putting on a wet, cold bathing suit caused to us boys. Does the term "turtling" mean anything to you???? Pain, or no pain, nothing was going to keep us from that pool. Not temperature, not time, not floaties, not anything. We would grab EVERY towel in that room and run out the door. Mom and Dad would look at each other and have that mental conversation whether or not at least one of them needed to supervise us and after a few minutes of internal struggle, one of them would follow. That is, unless we were lucky enough to get the room that overlooked the pool, then they would just open the curtains that were made out of a material that I have never seen before, and that was good enough for them. Parenting from afar worked just as well, and gave them a chance at possible "alone time". MY folks never did that, but maybe yours did. (Mental trauma comes free of charge. You are welcome.)
The first night came and went and everyone slept pretty well due to the total exhaustion of the travel. If you stayed with relatives, you would usually wake up to the smell of orange juice and bacon. If you stayed in a motel, you would wake up with the smell of your brother's gas that he just had a foot away from you in the bed and a laser beam of light that was shooting in through the crack of the curtains that was burning your retinas out since 6 o'clock in the morning.
Our family would usually focus a lot of our vacation at the beach. When you come from a state like Ohio, you found the beach to be a wonderful place that you'd NEVER get to see and experience unless you were on vacation, so 9 times out of 10, we would load up our car and head out to the beach. You would think that we would all remember year after year the problems of doing this, but NOPE, every vacation was the same. We would head out to the beach early, stay all day long, head back to where we were staying, and then the pain would set in. I'm pretty sure most of you know exactly what I'm talking about. SUNBURN!!!! I really don't remember much about sun block back then, or any big campaign against skin cancer, I just remember getting some kind of useless white cream rubbed all over my body throughout the day. I also remember the joy of getting it rubbed all over me after I was covered in sand and my Mom's hand was also covered in sand. Talk about a skin peel!!!! It was the equivalent of rubbing sandpaper all over my already pinkish body. If you have never experienced that. . . . . count yourself lucky!!!!
Not only was the sunburn part of the beach experience, but there were many things that made the beach leave such a lasting impression on me. If we were at the beaches in New York, there was a pretty good chance that one could get hypothermia from the water temperature. Not that that mattered to us kids, but there was NO CHANCE that our folks were going to get in the water with us. There was the joy of sea shell collecting. We kids would grab anything, and I mean anything, that resembled a sea shell and want to drag it back to Ohio with us. Magically though, most of the shells would be "stolen by the seagulls" by the time we got in the car and we would each be left with one shell a piece. Mom would always pack a lunch to take out there and by the time you got around to eating and drinking, EVERYTHING was covered in sand. Your ham and cheese sandwich would crunch, your can of Coke would be covered in sand, and as a kid, you just went with it and digested 50% sand with every bite and swallow. I now understand where the word SANDwich came from. Taking in huge mouthfuls of salt water while taking a huge wave upside the head that your brother didn't give you a "heads up" on and lastly, the sand, the sand, the SAND!!!
We would leave that beach and every one of us would have a minimum of 3 pounds of sand on us and in us. That's right. . . . I said IN US!!! There was not a crevice or orifice on our anatomy that didn't have sand on it. I can't remember if the beaches we went to back then had the useless showers outside that most beaches have now, but regardless if they did or didn't, we would have had to strip completely naked and use a pressure washer to get all that sand off of us before we got in the car. Heaven forbid if we had a long ride in the car back to where we were staying, because it would get pretty uncomfortable in my "nether regions" the longer that sand worked my skin. Plus . . . add the now glowing sunburn on top of ALL THAT FUN, and I was more than ready to tell you where the gold was buried.
Here we all were, only one day into our vacation, and the entire family was now in mass amounts of pain. I didn't want anyone coming within 4 feet of my personal space because I knew they would brush up against my lobster read skin and cause me to burst into flames. What a way to spend the rest of the vacation. The first half of it would be everyone in pain and miserable, and the second half would be everyone itching and looking like we were half human and half reptile by all the shedding skin coming off our body. Of course this led to a few "who could pull the longest piece of skin off of them" contest between us kids. Mom and Dad always wondered what those things that looked like potato chips were in the back seat of the car. I never had the heart to tell them that it was their kid’s skin.
You had the beach, and if you were lucky, you would get to do one other big adventure while on vacation. For us, we would always take a trip into New York City when we saw my Grandma and Uncle out on Long Island. That would be such an exciting trip to a small child because we would see the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, the Twin Towers, and so many other sites that just amazed us. In fact, I can remember a particular trip when we rode the subway, that I got to see my first homeless man, gang members, and upon going back up to the street . . . strip clubs. What trip would be complete until your 11 year old boy got to see flashing GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS and NUDE LIVE GIRLS neon signs in between his Mother's fingers as she tried to cover his face, in vain I might add.
If we were in Florida, no trip was complete unless we went to the Magic Kingdom at Disney World. (That's because Universal Studios didn't exist back then, so I wasn't cheating on them). It was the most magical place in the world to a child. I can remember going in the days that they first opened up, and instead of just paying one entrance fee, you would purchase tickets to ride the rides. What would suck was that you would end up at the end of the day with only the crappy rides left to do because you had used up all the cool ride tickets early on in the day. So instead of getting to ride the Haunted Mansion, which traumatized me as a kid, one more time, we had to ride It's a Small World right before we left, which gave us all such a WONDERFUL song to have stuck in our heads all the way home.
We all know though, just how quick vacations went. It would seem we would pull in the driveway one minute, and the next, we would be loading all our crap back into the car for the sad ride home. We ate, swam, saw sights, slept on the floor, got spoiled by relatives, and took very little time to actually relax, and before we knew it, it was done. It's the memories that would stick with us though. I'll share one of my favorites to close this blog.
My Uncle Henry was such a great guy and we could always look forward to when we visited him in New York, he was going to take us three kids to Toys R Us and let us each pick out a toy. I can't remember having a Toys R Us around us in Ohio, so when we loaded up the car for that trip with Uncle Henry, I can say that the excitement level was just as high as if we were going to the Magic Kingdom for me. We would drive the 15 minutes to the store and the coolest part was that it was just us three kids and him. No parents along to make us be smart with our choices, just us and the toys and an Uncle with the wallet. I'm sure we had some kind of limit, but to me, letting me pick something out that I wanted, no matter how stupid it was, was worth however much or how little it cost. I loved these trips with my Uncle and will always remember the joy it brought me. I have tried to take that with me in gifts that I buy for kids and also letting a kid spend their own money in any way they want, within reason though. No drugs or alcohol!!!!
We have now been through the Preparation, the Travel, the Destination, and the only thing left to talk about is the Return Home. I will cover that shortly. For now. . . . .
SMILE!!!
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
Trip Down Memory Lane Pt. 4 - Vacation Stage 2 - Traveling
(This is stage 2 of my vacation series, so if you haven't read stage 1 yet. . . . .WHY NOT????
click here to catch up http://scottsweitzer.blogspot.com/2011/06/trip-down-memory-lane-pt-4-vacation.html )
When we last left my "puke", the car was finally pulling out of the driveway for the last time and the vacation had officially begun. Dad was the driver, Mom was the navigator, and us three kids were wedged where ever we could fit due to the packing done by my father. I swear he didn't even factor us into the equation. I would be sitting on the hump, a suitcase ramming the back of my head, a cooler pressing into my "special place", and I was now expected to stay quiet and calm for the next 8 to 20 hours. Good luck with that Father!!!
Now on one occasion, I remember my Dad's worst fears coming to fruition. You remember me talking about how my Dad's whole worry was ANYONE finding out we were leaving on vacation and then breaking into our house and taking everything we owned? Well on this one occasion, we had just pulled out of the driveway and were pulling away from the house when my sister decided that this moment needed some emotion. She rolled down the window and proceeded to shout at the top of her lungs, "BYE HOUSE! BYE YARD! BYE TREES! BYE NEIGHBORHOOD! BYE EVERY ONE!!!" I'm truly surprised that my Dad did not get whiplash by how quick he spun around to stop this little spawn from announcing to the whole world that we were leaving. He then proceeded to panic for the next 20 minutes about who heard her shouting and he was sure they were already in our house stealing his Fruit of the Looms and Brill Cream. I think my Mom finally pointed out to him that it was 4 in the morning and there wasn't anyone up but us, so he finally dropped the club he was going to beat Alice with. DANG IT!!!!
I always wondered why my Dad would insist on leaving at some UN-GODLY hour, but now that I'm older, and have traveled with children, I finally understand it. ANY moment you can get your child to sleep in the car while on a vacation is bonus time. I'm really surprised that instead of water to drink on a trip for us kids, Mom didn't pack like 10 bottles of Nyquil to keep us "medicated" with. It was, however, a pretty traumatic time for a child to leave that early in the morning because it resembled something from either a prison movie or a boot camp movie. I would be sound asleep at 4 in the morning and then the lights in my room would come on and Mom would be telling me to go get in the car to leave. I would stagger like a zombie to my 6in x 6in seating spot on the hump and we would be in Pennsylvania before I finally gathered my senses and realized that we even left. Smart Mom and Dad. . . . . REAL SMART!!!!
Now as far as traveling as a kid, time seemed to move WAY slower than normal time. 8 hours of traveling in a car equaled a week to a child. Throw on top of that the cramped quarters as mentioned before, being shoulder to shoulder with your sworn enemies called your siblings, the lack of ANY form of entertainment, and I am truly surprised that we didn't read about kids going "Lord of the Flies" more and weeding out the herd. I can remember almost every vacation having that moment of insanity. The lack of mobility, entertainment, and having your brother's elbow in your ribs while your sister would accuse you of being on her side would drive me into a frenzy. I would either take to laughing like a madman, fighting both my brother and sister with no regard to my own safety, or singing "This Land is My Land" at the top of my lungs until I let the tension out. Don't ask about that whole singing thing please. I'm not proud of that one.
(Sounding like an old person alert) BEEEEEEEP
For those of you that might read my blog that are under 25, when I say no entertainment, I mean NO ENTERTAINMENT!!!!! We didn't have ANYTHING that resembled the Gameboy, PSP, I-Touch, I-Pod, DVD, or Cell phone. We couldn't lose ourselves in some electronic world that would make the time go faster. I was just on vacation a couple of weeks ago, and while I drove, my wife Linda was watching stuff on YouTube on her phone. Do you know how bad I would have killed to be able to see "Friday" by Rebecca Black just to dull the pain of sitting in a car smashed between my brother and sister with 7 1/2 hours still to go??? You kids have NO IDEA what it was like to have to find your own entertainment on a long car ride. It was sheer torture!!!!
(Old guy leaving now)
As younger kids, Dad would load the entire luggage into the back open area of the Country Squire station wagon, but as we got older, and crankier, he began leaving room in the back for the Alcatraz seat. For those of you that aren't familiar with the Alcatraz seat, let me explain why I call it this. Station wagons at that time, had a fold up seat in the trunk area of the automobile. Now where some station wagons had the bench seat that folded up and had you facing out the back of the vehicle, ours folded out in a manner that gave you two bench seats staring directly at each other looking out the side of the vehicle. I guess Ford decided that it was just plain rude for the child to stare out the back of the car at some poor motorist and chose to have the kid that was exiled to the Alcatraz seat to have to stare out the side of the car, which trust me when I say, you can't see ANYTHING INTERESTING. You don't even get to see all the cool billboards in the opposite direction that the kid that got to see while looking out the back window. THE VIEW SUCKED!!!!
The other reason I call it the Alcatraz seat is because there was usually a mountain of luggage in between you and the rest of the car so you truly felt like you were on an island when you were put back there. Oh, you could hear fun stuff happening from the front end of the car, but you couldn't see it or participate in it because of the lime green suitcase, red and white Igloo cooler, and the saliva stained pillows that were forming a barrier between you and the rest of the car. It was like solitary confinement for an 8 year old. Don't get me wrong, there were times that I enjoyed going back there to get away from my siblings, but you want to talk about boredom?
Then you also had to deal with the size of the seat. I'm not sure who they thought they were marketing this feature to, but you would pretty much have to put two babies back there if you wanted to use both bench seats. Each bench seat was like 3 ft long and 1 1/2 foot deep, but in between the seats for the leg room was like a whopping 8 INCHES. Take a moment to look at 8 inches on a ruler. Please tell me what two mutant kids are going to fit in that area comfortably???? It was like Ford didn't even try this feature out before they put it in this car. They just slapped it in and figured that the parents would figure it out. Heaven forbid you ever got in an accident with your kids in that back seat; safety was NOT an issue with this seat. . . . . WAIT A MINUTE!!!!! I think I just figured out why I was the first one they asked to go back there!!!!
Now that we got the seating out of the way, let's talk about the different dynamics that took place during the travel stage. First off, Dad was the driver. . . .PERIOD. Mom was the navigator. . . . PERIOD. Kids were a constant annoyance to parents . . . . . . PERIOD!!!
It was Dad's only goal to get to the destination in the quickest way possible. You didn't stop for stupid reasons like bathroom breaks or food, you ONLY stopped when you needed gas and everyone in the car had better synchronize their bladders to that cycle. Plus, back then, it was considered a treat if you stopped and got food while traveling from a fast food place. Mom would pack enough fruit and veggies to feed a dozen horses and rabbits and like twenty peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for all our eating needs for the trip. Of course, after about the 6th hour of sitting in a cooler with those useless blue cool packs, the jelly would absorb into the peanut butter and you would be left with a mushy sandwich that tasted gross. So the less you dealt with Dad on these trips, the better it was for you in the long run. He was focused on getting us there with the least amount of stops as possible, and he was going to beat last years trip by at least 15 minutes.
Now Mom served two main roles on the trip. She was A) The navigator and B) the buffer between Dad and the kids. You see, long before GPS, you had the MRM (Map Reading Momma). How did this technological marvel work? First off, the MRM was voice activated!!!!! Dad would say where we were going and then Mom would pull out the maps and figure out how we were going to get there. Once again for you younger folks, there were huge sheets of paper that would have lines all over them that showed where all the roads were in a state. And when I say huge. . . . I'm not kidding. I would watch Mom unfold the map and pretty soon almost the entire windshield would be covered up with only a little square left for Dad to see out of to drive. Mom would bark out directions and then try to re-fold the map back into its original form, but that was NEVER going to happen. She would fight the map for like a minute or two, let out an exasperated groan, and then scrunch it together into something that had NO resemblance to the map that was there a minute ago. Of course, as soon as she shoved it under the seat, Dad would ask her to repeat the directions again because he wasn't listening. That's when Mom picked up that club he was going to beat Alice with earlier.
Mom's second job though was much more important. She had to be that buffer between Dad and us kids. I swear there was a blinking light somewhere on the car's dashboard that would flash when Dad was getting aggravated with us kids and putting us in the danger zone. That light would flash and Mom would snap into action by either distracting us kids by pointing out some landmark that we were missing, have us switch seats or exile one of us to Alcatraz, or she would have us sing a song on the spur of the moment. It was like we lived in one of those TV musicals where at the drop of a hat, everyone would break out into a song. I guess it's true that music soothes the savage beast because how she managed to get Dad from killing us sometimes is beyond me. This was Mom's most important role or we would have come home with less people then we left with on a couple of occasions!!!!
We kids, however, took great pride on how much chaos we could create from our little niche in the car and being that we had no real role in the trip, we could put our whole focus on creating that chaos. No matter what time we left, the same thing would happen about 15 minutes into every trip. We would get bored!!! Now boredom could play itself out in SO MANY WAYS in the confines of the car. It could be very simple or mighty complex, but there was no chance we weren't going to make it known that we needed entertainment and we needed it NOW!!!
It would usually start simple between us kids. My brother would lean against me which would push the cooler further into my "special place". I would get annoyed and lean towards my sister to compensate for my brother's rude behavior. She would then lean back into me, pushing against my weight, which in turn would push me back into my brother. He would sense my pushing and lean harder against me until I became a book titled "How to Squish Your Brother", and this book was in between those two stupid bookends called my brother and sister. We would test the waters with each other by fighting for an extra two inches to place our tushies, until one of us would finally snap and throw the first grenade in the "Let's Hack off the Folks" war of 1975. Whoever snapped first, usually my sister, would tattle on whoever they wanted to get into trouble first, which was usually me. "Mom! Scott's leaning on me." to which I would have to defend myself by saying, "Well Mark's leaning on me." to which Mark would play the innocent one and say, "No I'm not." Of course I wasn't going to let this bold faced lie go, so I would have to call him out on it. "He's lying Mom!!! He won't get off me." Then Mark would lean harder against me to make his point and Alice would shove back at me until we would be locked in a battle that no one was going to win. "EVERYONE GET IN YOUR OWN SPOT!!!" Mom would bellow, because there was no way she wanted Dad involved this early on in the trip. We would settle back down for the moment.
For the next few hours we would go from getting along with each other to wanting to kill each other. The worst was when someone decided to "break wind" in such an enclosed area. You were cheek to cheek away from the offending party and they would make sure to raise that cheek in your direction to add to the vapor trail. Of course, the person that did it would bust out laughing while the other two proceeded to hold their breath, wave their hands away from their nose, and tell on the cheek raising stink pot. "Mom! Scott left off a stinker." It was about this time that the smell reached the front seat and Mom and Dad were now involved whether you wanted them to be or not. All the windows would come down and Mom would make a blanket statement like, "If you have to have gas, just hold it."
When we finally got tired of attacking each other, we would turn our attention on Mom with a barrage of questions. "How much longer?" "When are we going to get there?" "When are we going to eat?" "Can we stop and see the World’s Largest Yarn ball?" "What are we going to do when we get there?" "Can we stop so I can pee?" "Can I crawl in the back?" "Why is Dad's vein sticking out of his forehead?”, were all part of the question period of the trip. All three of us had questions, and we wanted answers dang it!!!! Mom would have to field each and every one of those questions as quickly as possible to once again keep Dad focused on the trip. "About 2 hours more." "In about 2 hours." "Do you want a mushy sandwich?" "No." "See your Grandma." "You should have gone an hour ago when we stopped for gas." "If you can find room go ahead." "Because you are asking too many questions and he's close to pulling the car over and killing all three of you." She would answer them all keeping the buffer between us and Dad.
The last part I will talk about on the travel stage is that if we were going to Florida, it meant we would get to stay in a motel at least one night. That was the ultimate experience for a kid. It didn't matter what time at night we pulled into that motel, the first thing out of our mouths when we arrived was, "CAN WE GO SWIMMING???" It didn't matter if it was midnight, 50 degrees outside, and the pool was green, we wanted it so bad we could taste it. There was not enough "No's" in my parent's vocabularies that was going to dissuade us from getting in that pool and they knew it, so they would just say "Yes" and get it over with. We would swim for as long as they would let us, for this is what the vacation was all about. Swimming late at night, going into the freezing motel room, going to sleep three in a bed, waking up at the crack of dawn, putting back on that freezing bathing suit that would make any male an instant girl, and swimming until Dad declared that it was time to get back on the road again. Getting to stay one night in a motel made all the smells, cramped quarters, pushy siblings, gross food, and even the Alcatraz seat worth every painful moment. It was even better than staying at relatives houses because we didn't even have to pick up the towels. I will always remember the greatness that was the motel back in those days.
I could drag this on even further because I still have so many memories from the traveling part of the vacation, but due to length, I will stop it right there. I hope I was able to drag a few memories out of you during this read and I will be tackling the next stage of the vacation in my next "puke". . . . . The Destination!!!
SMILE!!!!
click here to catch up http://scottsweitzer.blogspot.com/2011/06/trip-down-memory-lane-pt-4-vacation.html )
When we last left my "puke", the car was finally pulling out of the driveway for the last time and the vacation had officially begun. Dad was the driver, Mom was the navigator, and us three kids were wedged where ever we could fit due to the packing done by my father. I swear he didn't even factor us into the equation. I would be sitting on the hump, a suitcase ramming the back of my head, a cooler pressing into my "special place", and I was now expected to stay quiet and calm for the next 8 to 20 hours. Good luck with that Father!!!
Now on one occasion, I remember my Dad's worst fears coming to fruition. You remember me talking about how my Dad's whole worry was ANYONE finding out we were leaving on vacation and then breaking into our house and taking everything we owned? Well on this one occasion, we had just pulled out of the driveway and were pulling away from the house when my sister decided that this moment needed some emotion. She rolled down the window and proceeded to shout at the top of her lungs, "BYE HOUSE! BYE YARD! BYE TREES! BYE NEIGHBORHOOD! BYE EVERY ONE!!!" I'm truly surprised that my Dad did not get whiplash by how quick he spun around to stop this little spawn from announcing to the whole world that we were leaving. He then proceeded to panic for the next 20 minutes about who heard her shouting and he was sure they were already in our house stealing his Fruit of the Looms and Brill Cream. I think my Mom finally pointed out to him that it was 4 in the morning and there wasn't anyone up but us, so he finally dropped the club he was going to beat Alice with. DANG IT!!!!
I always wondered why my Dad would insist on leaving at some UN-GODLY hour, but now that I'm older, and have traveled with children, I finally understand it. ANY moment you can get your child to sleep in the car while on a vacation is bonus time. I'm really surprised that instead of water to drink on a trip for us kids, Mom didn't pack like 10 bottles of Nyquil to keep us "medicated" with. It was, however, a pretty traumatic time for a child to leave that early in the morning because it resembled something from either a prison movie or a boot camp movie. I would be sound asleep at 4 in the morning and then the lights in my room would come on and Mom would be telling me to go get in the car to leave. I would stagger like a zombie to my 6in x 6in seating spot on the hump and we would be in Pennsylvania before I finally gathered my senses and realized that we even left. Smart Mom and Dad. . . . . REAL SMART!!!!
Now as far as traveling as a kid, time seemed to move WAY slower than normal time. 8 hours of traveling in a car equaled a week to a child. Throw on top of that the cramped quarters as mentioned before, being shoulder to shoulder with your sworn enemies called your siblings, the lack of ANY form of entertainment, and I am truly surprised that we didn't read about kids going "Lord of the Flies" more and weeding out the herd. I can remember almost every vacation having that moment of insanity. The lack of mobility, entertainment, and having your brother's elbow in your ribs while your sister would accuse you of being on her side would drive me into a frenzy. I would either take to laughing like a madman, fighting both my brother and sister with no regard to my own safety, or singing "This Land is My Land" at the top of my lungs until I let the tension out. Don't ask about that whole singing thing please. I'm not proud of that one.
(Sounding like an old person alert) BEEEEEEEP
For those of you that might read my blog that are under 25, when I say no entertainment, I mean NO ENTERTAINMENT!!!!! We didn't have ANYTHING that resembled the Gameboy, PSP, I-Touch, I-Pod, DVD, or Cell phone. We couldn't lose ourselves in some electronic world that would make the time go faster. I was just on vacation a couple of weeks ago, and while I drove, my wife Linda was watching stuff on YouTube on her phone. Do you know how bad I would have killed to be able to see "Friday" by Rebecca Black just to dull the pain of sitting in a car smashed between my brother and sister with 7 1/2 hours still to go??? You kids have NO IDEA what it was like to have to find your own entertainment on a long car ride. It was sheer torture!!!!
(Old guy leaving now)
As younger kids, Dad would load the entire luggage into the back open area of the Country Squire station wagon, but as we got older, and crankier, he began leaving room in the back for the Alcatraz seat. For those of you that aren't familiar with the Alcatraz seat, let me explain why I call it this. Station wagons at that time, had a fold up seat in the trunk area of the automobile. Now where some station wagons had the bench seat that folded up and had you facing out the back of the vehicle, ours folded out in a manner that gave you two bench seats staring directly at each other looking out the side of the vehicle. I guess Ford decided that it was just plain rude for the child to stare out the back of the car at some poor motorist and chose to have the kid that was exiled to the Alcatraz seat to have to stare out the side of the car, which trust me when I say, you can't see ANYTHING INTERESTING. You don't even get to see all the cool billboards in the opposite direction that the kid that got to see while looking out the back window. THE VIEW SUCKED!!!!
The other reason I call it the Alcatraz seat is because there was usually a mountain of luggage in between you and the rest of the car so you truly felt like you were on an island when you were put back there. Oh, you could hear fun stuff happening from the front end of the car, but you couldn't see it or participate in it because of the lime green suitcase, red and white Igloo cooler, and the saliva stained pillows that were forming a barrier between you and the rest of the car. It was like solitary confinement for an 8 year old. Don't get me wrong, there were times that I enjoyed going back there to get away from my siblings, but you want to talk about boredom?
Then you also had to deal with the size of the seat. I'm not sure who they thought they were marketing this feature to, but you would pretty much have to put two babies back there if you wanted to use both bench seats. Each bench seat was like 3 ft long and 1 1/2 foot deep, but in between the seats for the leg room was like a whopping 8 INCHES. Take a moment to look at 8 inches on a ruler. Please tell me what two mutant kids are going to fit in that area comfortably???? It was like Ford didn't even try this feature out before they put it in this car. They just slapped it in and figured that the parents would figure it out. Heaven forbid you ever got in an accident with your kids in that back seat; safety was NOT an issue with this seat. . . . . WAIT A MINUTE!!!!! I think I just figured out why I was the first one they asked to go back there!!!!
Now that we got the seating out of the way, let's talk about the different dynamics that took place during the travel stage. First off, Dad was the driver. . . .PERIOD. Mom was the navigator. . . . PERIOD. Kids were a constant annoyance to parents . . . . . . PERIOD!!!
It was Dad's only goal to get to the destination in the quickest way possible. You didn't stop for stupid reasons like bathroom breaks or food, you ONLY stopped when you needed gas and everyone in the car had better synchronize their bladders to that cycle. Plus, back then, it was considered a treat if you stopped and got food while traveling from a fast food place. Mom would pack enough fruit and veggies to feed a dozen horses and rabbits and like twenty peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for all our eating needs for the trip. Of course, after about the 6th hour of sitting in a cooler with those useless blue cool packs, the jelly would absorb into the peanut butter and you would be left with a mushy sandwich that tasted gross. So the less you dealt with Dad on these trips, the better it was for you in the long run. He was focused on getting us there with the least amount of stops as possible, and he was going to beat last years trip by at least 15 minutes.
Now Mom served two main roles on the trip. She was A) The navigator and B) the buffer between Dad and the kids. You see, long before GPS, you had the MRM (Map Reading Momma). How did this technological marvel work? First off, the MRM was voice activated!!!!! Dad would say where we were going and then Mom would pull out the maps and figure out how we were going to get there. Once again for you younger folks, there were huge sheets of paper that would have lines all over them that showed where all the roads were in a state. And when I say huge. . . . I'm not kidding. I would watch Mom unfold the map and pretty soon almost the entire windshield would be covered up with only a little square left for Dad to see out of to drive. Mom would bark out directions and then try to re-fold the map back into its original form, but that was NEVER going to happen. She would fight the map for like a minute or two, let out an exasperated groan, and then scrunch it together into something that had NO resemblance to the map that was there a minute ago. Of course, as soon as she shoved it under the seat, Dad would ask her to repeat the directions again because he wasn't listening. That's when Mom picked up that club he was going to beat Alice with earlier.
Mom's second job though was much more important. She had to be that buffer between Dad and us kids. I swear there was a blinking light somewhere on the car's dashboard that would flash when Dad was getting aggravated with us kids and putting us in the danger zone. That light would flash and Mom would snap into action by either distracting us kids by pointing out some landmark that we were missing, have us switch seats or exile one of us to Alcatraz, or she would have us sing a song on the spur of the moment. It was like we lived in one of those TV musicals where at the drop of a hat, everyone would break out into a song. I guess it's true that music soothes the savage beast because how she managed to get Dad from killing us sometimes is beyond me. This was Mom's most important role or we would have come home with less people then we left with on a couple of occasions!!!!
We kids, however, took great pride on how much chaos we could create from our little niche in the car and being that we had no real role in the trip, we could put our whole focus on creating that chaos. No matter what time we left, the same thing would happen about 15 minutes into every trip. We would get bored!!! Now boredom could play itself out in SO MANY WAYS in the confines of the car. It could be very simple or mighty complex, but there was no chance we weren't going to make it known that we needed entertainment and we needed it NOW!!!
It would usually start simple between us kids. My brother would lean against me which would push the cooler further into my "special place". I would get annoyed and lean towards my sister to compensate for my brother's rude behavior. She would then lean back into me, pushing against my weight, which in turn would push me back into my brother. He would sense my pushing and lean harder against me until I became a book titled "How to Squish Your Brother", and this book was in between those two stupid bookends called my brother and sister. We would test the waters with each other by fighting for an extra two inches to place our tushies, until one of us would finally snap and throw the first grenade in the "Let's Hack off the Folks" war of 1975. Whoever snapped first, usually my sister, would tattle on whoever they wanted to get into trouble first, which was usually me. "Mom! Scott's leaning on me." to which I would have to defend myself by saying, "Well Mark's leaning on me." to which Mark would play the innocent one and say, "No I'm not." Of course I wasn't going to let this bold faced lie go, so I would have to call him out on it. "He's lying Mom!!! He won't get off me." Then Mark would lean harder against me to make his point and Alice would shove back at me until we would be locked in a battle that no one was going to win. "EVERYONE GET IN YOUR OWN SPOT!!!" Mom would bellow, because there was no way she wanted Dad involved this early on in the trip. We would settle back down for the moment.
For the next few hours we would go from getting along with each other to wanting to kill each other. The worst was when someone decided to "break wind" in such an enclosed area. You were cheek to cheek away from the offending party and they would make sure to raise that cheek in your direction to add to the vapor trail. Of course, the person that did it would bust out laughing while the other two proceeded to hold their breath, wave their hands away from their nose, and tell on the cheek raising stink pot. "Mom! Scott left off a stinker." It was about this time that the smell reached the front seat and Mom and Dad were now involved whether you wanted them to be or not. All the windows would come down and Mom would make a blanket statement like, "If you have to have gas, just hold it."
When we finally got tired of attacking each other, we would turn our attention on Mom with a barrage of questions. "How much longer?" "When are we going to get there?" "When are we going to eat?" "Can we stop and see the World’s Largest Yarn ball?" "What are we going to do when we get there?" "Can we stop so I can pee?" "Can I crawl in the back?" "Why is Dad's vein sticking out of his forehead?”, were all part of the question period of the trip. All three of us had questions, and we wanted answers dang it!!!! Mom would have to field each and every one of those questions as quickly as possible to once again keep Dad focused on the trip. "About 2 hours more." "In about 2 hours." "Do you want a mushy sandwich?" "No." "See your Grandma." "You should have gone an hour ago when we stopped for gas." "If you can find room go ahead." "Because you are asking too many questions and he's close to pulling the car over and killing all three of you." She would answer them all keeping the buffer between us and Dad.
The last part I will talk about on the travel stage is that if we were going to Florida, it meant we would get to stay in a motel at least one night. That was the ultimate experience for a kid. It didn't matter what time at night we pulled into that motel, the first thing out of our mouths when we arrived was, "CAN WE GO SWIMMING???" It didn't matter if it was midnight, 50 degrees outside, and the pool was green, we wanted it so bad we could taste it. There was not enough "No's" in my parent's vocabularies that was going to dissuade us from getting in that pool and they knew it, so they would just say "Yes" and get it over with. We would swim for as long as they would let us, for this is what the vacation was all about. Swimming late at night, going into the freezing motel room, going to sleep three in a bed, waking up at the crack of dawn, putting back on that freezing bathing suit that would make any male an instant girl, and swimming until Dad declared that it was time to get back on the road again. Getting to stay one night in a motel made all the smells, cramped quarters, pushy siblings, gross food, and even the Alcatraz seat worth every painful moment. It was even better than staying at relatives houses because we didn't even have to pick up the towels. I will always remember the greatness that was the motel back in those days.
I could drag this on even further because I still have so many memories from the traveling part of the vacation, but due to length, I will stop it right there. I hope I was able to drag a few memories out of you during this read and I will be tackling the next stage of the vacation in my next "puke". . . . . The Destination!!!
SMILE!!!!
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Trip Down Memory Lane Pt. 4 - Vacation Stage 1 - The Preparation
For the three of you that were wondering, the reason I haven't "puked" in awhile is because I was on vacation. I had every intention of doing one before I left, but I think we all know how the week before and the week after your vacation is. You don't feel like doing squat, so that's exactly what I did. SQUAT!!!! I'm amazed that I'm sitting down now to do this because I'm still on vacation mode mentally, but I need to go ahead and get this done before I forget what I was going to "puke" about. After all, I am old, and I forget things pretty quickly now.
As I was laying in the pool wearing my Speedo, I'll let you drink that image in like a fine wine, I began to look back on how the whole vacation experience has changed since I was a kid and figured that this would be a perfect topic in the Trip Down Memory Lane series. I will bring up some memories from past vacations, while making some observations as to how things have changed today. So grab your Atlas, highlight your route, and join me on another Trip Down Memory Lane!!! This time, we are GOING ON VACATION!!!!
When I was a kid, back in the 70's for those that are curious, vacations were always such a huge event in our lives. We couldn't wait for the summer to roll around because we knew we were going to load up the station wagon and head to either Long Island, NY to see my Uncle and Grandma, or to Stuart, Fl to see my Uncle. Both destinations held their own enticements. New York meant Fire Island Beaches, use of the neighbor's above ground pool for the duration of our trip, and a visit to New York City. Florida meant beaches, hotel stays, and a visit to Disney World in Orlando. It was win/win as far as I was concerned. However, the destination wasn't the only part of what made it an interesting trip. There were so many components that made up this thing we all called VACATION so I'm going to break it up into these four different stages:
1. Preparation
2. Traveling
3. The Destination
4. The Trip Home
*Authors note* I will probably break this into four different "pukes" also, because I just finished the first stage and realized that if I did all four stages in one, it would be the size of War and Peace. I'm doing this for your own good, trust me!!!
Let us start with the preparation. Days before you ever pulled out of that driveway, there were so many tasks that needed to get accomplished. As a kid, I found it in my best interest to stay the heck out of my parent’s way during this time in fear that they would either kill me or send me to the neighbors to stay and then forget to take me with them. Hey, I've seen "Home Alone" so I know it could happen.
Now in my family, my Dad was a worrier so he would spend the prep time by spouting different scenarios that would all end up in the loss of everything we ever owned. Here are a few examples:
"If we don't have the neighbors pick up our mail, the entire world will know that we are gone and someone will break in and steal all our stuff."
"I need to make sure that I turn off the pilot light on the water heater, or our house will burn to the ground and we will have NOTHING to come home to."
"I need to stare under the hood of the car and act like I know what I'm looking at making sure the car is safe to travel because I don't want to break down in the middle of nowhere."
"We need to stop the newspaper from coming, or a bunch of arsonists will know we aren't home and break in, steal all our stuff, and THEN burn our house to the ground. Then once I return home and see it, I will wreck the car due to the shock of it all." (This one covered all the bases in the doomsday prophecy)
Mom, however, would worry more about the trip itself and the things that the family was going to need. Here are a few things that you could hear come out of her mouth:
"I need to make sure I pack enough sun block. I don't want my kids getting burnt to a crisp at the beach."
"I need to go to the grocery store and pick up lunch meat and snacks to make sure everyone doesn't starve to death on that 8 hour trip to New York."
"We need games!!! I need to find games for the kids so Fred (my father) doesn't get so mad at them making noise that he actually DOES pull the car over and KILL all the children. How would I ever explain that?" (Trust me. There were plenty of times I thought this was going to happen. I was just praying that it would be either my brother or sister so I could have more room in the car.)
"We can't forget the kids pillows because either they will use them to sleep in the car, or Fred will have me place them over the kids faces to shut them up while he drives."
Dad's priorities = Car safety and House safety
Mom's priorities = Kids safety and packing.
Each parent knew their role in this and neither was going to step on the others toes during this time.
Packing was such a huge part of this stage, and it usually tended to fall on Mom's plate as her responsibility. So being a good leader, she would try to delegate the packing duties to each child. Now I don't know about you, but I have found that telling a young kid, say under 12, to pack for a trip is the most useless thing you can do as a parent. I can remember my Mom telling me to go pack myself and I would grab my little suitcase and get it done in like 42 seconds because I was efficient! Of course, I would end up with 2 pairs of shorts, 1 pair of dress pants for church, 3 shirts (none of which went with my dress pants), 2 pairs of socks (not a one would match), 0 pair of underwear (because I knew I was going to have one pair on when we left and I only needed those to get me through. Wear them normal for half the time, and then turn them inside out for the rest of the time. Genius!!! I would also only have one shoe and an assortment of useless crap that I wasn't going to be able to live without during my time away. This was all supposed to last me for the 10 days we were going to be gone. And to make matters worse, I wouldn't even bother to grab clean clothes. I would just grab them off the floor because those were my favorites that I wore all the time. Of course, Mom wouldn't check my suitcase until the day we were leaving to discover that my packing skills resembled that of the "special" kid that lived down the street that you didn't make eye contact with unless you wanted your leg humped. She would end up yelling at me asking me, "Just what I was thinking?" and end up doing it herself anyways. HEY! She should have known better than to ask a kid to pack their selves and done it herself in the first place!!!
All this preparation was such a stressful time because everyone just wanted to leave, but you had all this crap to do before you could even pull out of the driveway. So when the actual day of the departure would come, I would usually just run to the car and sit there to stay out of the way of the whirlwind that was about to take place. Mom would scream directions at us kids and Dad would be in charge of packing the car. Talk about a dictatorship!!!! I made the mistake once, only ONCE, of putting my little suitcase in the car on my own. You would have thought I just broke into the house, stole everything, torched the place, while wrecking our car, by the reaction of Adolf Sweitzer the Communist Packing Nazi. Every square inch had to be placed by Dad, and I do mean HAD TO. It was like a live game of Tetris to him. We would hand him a square suitcase and a rectangular cooler and it became his task to place them next to the L shaped chair and the kids pillows so that there was not ONE INCH of wasted space. You could watch him stand back and stare at the packing like he was Einstein trying to figure out E=MC2.
"If I move the chair 2 inches to the left, I can place the cooler right next to it at a 40 degree angle which will leave me 6 extra inches on the left side of the pillows so we can put the camera bag right there. If I put the camera bag on its side, I will still have 2 inches to put something else."
It was such an exact science to him and God bless the soul that screwed with that design. Heaven forbid if Mom would try to sneak something in at the end. This would cause Dad's forehead to turn red and make him have to redo the pyramid of items so he could fit the thermos of coffee between the camera bag and the pillows. My Dad never cussed, but it was during these times that if he did, I would have learned a whole lot of interesting words to take back to school with me in the Fall. Dang it! Missed opportunities!!!!
With the prep work out of the way, the car loaded, the kids in their respected 6in x 6in spots, Mom in the passenger seat, and Dad behind the wheel it was surely time to leave on vacation right???? WRONG!!!! You would pull out of the driveway and Dad would ask Mom if she remembered to unplug EVERY appliance in the house because he didn't want there to be a short which would cause a fire and burn everything to the ground. (Doomsday prophecy) Mom would usually say yes, but would hesitate just long enough to throw doubt into the air. Dad would say, "Are you sure???" and Mom would have to say "I'm pretty sure I did, but I can't remember if I unplugged the toaster." So now just 35 seconds up the road, Dad would slam on the breaks, let out a noise that sounded like a growl, turn the car around in your neighbor’s driveway, all to go back and check the stupid toaster. We kids knew better than to say a single word during this time because we would end up DEAD if we got involved. Mom would rush in and recheck every appliance and then come back out and confirm she did unplug the toaster. I'm pretty sure she had forgotten to unplug it, but there was NO CHANCE she was going to admit it to Dad because then he would have to double check all the appliances himself.
With Mom now back in the car, every appliance unplugged, certainly it was time for the vacation to begin . . . right? WRONG!!!!! Once that car was put in reverse, your sister would spout out those 7 words of doom that would set the tone for the remainder of the trip. "I have to go to the bathroom." Oh, the bane in my father's ears. Anytime a trip was interrupted by a trip to the bathroom, my father would die a little bit inside. I'm guilty of this today myself and I have a rule. "You will only eat when the car has to eat and you will only have to go to the bathroom when I have to go to the bathroom!!!!!!" Alas, women have bladders the size of a peanut, so I have felt Dad's pain time and time again over the years in my own travel adventures. I have learned that to a woman, 1 cup of water equals 14 gallons of urine. More on this later though.
Once my sister said those 7 words, we would wait for my Dad's head to split open and watch the fire and brimstone spill out of his head engulfing my sister in flames until all that remained of her was just a small pile of ashes. I would then open the car door, blow her ashes off the seat, and then scoot my little cute behind over so I would have more room during the trip. Instead of this wonderful mental image, we would get the whole, "I told you to go before we left!!!" Followed by, "I didn't have to go then." My Father would then lower his head on to the steering wheel and tell her to hurry up. Alice would run into the house and take care of her business while we would just sit there in complete silence knowing that whoever broke that silence, would surely die. Alice would then run back and get into the car which would prompt Dad to ask everyone in the car, "Does ANYONE else have to go?" By that time, even if I did have to go so bad that my eyes were watering, I would have just peed myself and sat there in my own urine soaked Wranglers for the next 8 hours because there was NO WAY I was going to be the one to hold this trip up any further. Out of sheer terror, no one would object, so it was finally time to really leave and Dad would announce "WE'RE OFF!" Which would take us to our next stage in this adventure . . . . . . . . .
Traveling
(to be continued in the next "puke")
As I was laying in the pool wearing my Speedo, I'll let you drink that image in like a fine wine, I began to look back on how the whole vacation experience has changed since I was a kid and figured that this would be a perfect topic in the Trip Down Memory Lane series. I will bring up some memories from past vacations, while making some observations as to how things have changed today. So grab your Atlas, highlight your route, and join me on another Trip Down Memory Lane!!! This time, we are GOING ON VACATION!!!!
When I was a kid, back in the 70's for those that are curious, vacations were always such a huge event in our lives. We couldn't wait for the summer to roll around because we knew we were going to load up the station wagon and head to either Long Island, NY to see my Uncle and Grandma, or to Stuart, Fl to see my Uncle. Both destinations held their own enticements. New York meant Fire Island Beaches, use of the neighbor's above ground pool for the duration of our trip, and a visit to New York City. Florida meant beaches, hotel stays, and a visit to Disney World in Orlando. It was win/win as far as I was concerned. However, the destination wasn't the only part of what made it an interesting trip. There were so many components that made up this thing we all called VACATION so I'm going to break it up into these four different stages:
1. Preparation
2. Traveling
3. The Destination
4. The Trip Home
*Authors note* I will probably break this into four different "pukes" also, because I just finished the first stage and realized that if I did all four stages in one, it would be the size of War and Peace. I'm doing this for your own good, trust me!!!
Let us start with the preparation. Days before you ever pulled out of that driveway, there were so many tasks that needed to get accomplished. As a kid, I found it in my best interest to stay the heck out of my parent’s way during this time in fear that they would either kill me or send me to the neighbors to stay and then forget to take me with them. Hey, I've seen "Home Alone" so I know it could happen.
Now in my family, my Dad was a worrier so he would spend the prep time by spouting different scenarios that would all end up in the loss of everything we ever owned. Here are a few examples:
"If we don't have the neighbors pick up our mail, the entire world will know that we are gone and someone will break in and steal all our stuff."
"I need to make sure that I turn off the pilot light on the water heater, or our house will burn to the ground and we will have NOTHING to come home to."
"I need to stare under the hood of the car and act like I know what I'm looking at making sure the car is safe to travel because I don't want to break down in the middle of nowhere."
"We need to stop the newspaper from coming, or a bunch of arsonists will know we aren't home and break in, steal all our stuff, and THEN burn our house to the ground. Then once I return home and see it, I will wreck the car due to the shock of it all." (This one covered all the bases in the doomsday prophecy)
Mom, however, would worry more about the trip itself and the things that the family was going to need. Here are a few things that you could hear come out of her mouth:
"I need to make sure I pack enough sun block. I don't want my kids getting burnt to a crisp at the beach."
"I need to go to the grocery store and pick up lunch meat and snacks to make sure everyone doesn't starve to death on that 8 hour trip to New York."
"We need games!!! I need to find games for the kids so Fred (my father) doesn't get so mad at them making noise that he actually DOES pull the car over and KILL all the children. How would I ever explain that?" (Trust me. There were plenty of times I thought this was going to happen. I was just praying that it would be either my brother or sister so I could have more room in the car.)
"We can't forget the kids pillows because either they will use them to sleep in the car, or Fred will have me place them over the kids faces to shut them up while he drives."
Dad's priorities = Car safety and House safety
Mom's priorities = Kids safety and packing.
Each parent knew their role in this and neither was going to step on the others toes during this time.
Packing was such a huge part of this stage, and it usually tended to fall on Mom's plate as her responsibility. So being a good leader, she would try to delegate the packing duties to each child. Now I don't know about you, but I have found that telling a young kid, say under 12, to pack for a trip is the most useless thing you can do as a parent. I can remember my Mom telling me to go pack myself and I would grab my little suitcase and get it done in like 42 seconds because I was efficient! Of course, I would end up with 2 pairs of shorts, 1 pair of dress pants for church, 3 shirts (none of which went with my dress pants), 2 pairs of socks (not a one would match), 0 pair of underwear (because I knew I was going to have one pair on when we left and I only needed those to get me through. Wear them normal for half the time, and then turn them inside out for the rest of the time. Genius!!! I would also only have one shoe and an assortment of useless crap that I wasn't going to be able to live without during my time away. This was all supposed to last me for the 10 days we were going to be gone. And to make matters worse, I wouldn't even bother to grab clean clothes. I would just grab them off the floor because those were my favorites that I wore all the time. Of course, Mom wouldn't check my suitcase until the day we were leaving to discover that my packing skills resembled that of the "special" kid that lived down the street that you didn't make eye contact with unless you wanted your leg humped. She would end up yelling at me asking me, "Just what I was thinking?" and end up doing it herself anyways. HEY! She should have known better than to ask a kid to pack their selves and done it herself in the first place!!!
All this preparation was such a stressful time because everyone just wanted to leave, but you had all this crap to do before you could even pull out of the driveway. So when the actual day of the departure would come, I would usually just run to the car and sit there to stay out of the way of the whirlwind that was about to take place. Mom would scream directions at us kids and Dad would be in charge of packing the car. Talk about a dictatorship!!!! I made the mistake once, only ONCE, of putting my little suitcase in the car on my own. You would have thought I just broke into the house, stole everything, torched the place, while wrecking our car, by the reaction of Adolf Sweitzer the Communist Packing Nazi. Every square inch had to be placed by Dad, and I do mean HAD TO. It was like a live game of Tetris to him. We would hand him a square suitcase and a rectangular cooler and it became his task to place them next to the L shaped chair and the kids pillows so that there was not ONE INCH of wasted space. You could watch him stand back and stare at the packing like he was Einstein trying to figure out E=MC2.
"If I move the chair 2 inches to the left, I can place the cooler right next to it at a 40 degree angle which will leave me 6 extra inches on the left side of the pillows so we can put the camera bag right there. If I put the camera bag on its side, I will still have 2 inches to put something else."
It was such an exact science to him and God bless the soul that screwed with that design. Heaven forbid if Mom would try to sneak something in at the end. This would cause Dad's forehead to turn red and make him have to redo the pyramid of items so he could fit the thermos of coffee between the camera bag and the pillows. My Dad never cussed, but it was during these times that if he did, I would have learned a whole lot of interesting words to take back to school with me in the Fall. Dang it! Missed opportunities!!!!
With the prep work out of the way, the car loaded, the kids in their respected 6in x 6in spots, Mom in the passenger seat, and Dad behind the wheel it was surely time to leave on vacation right???? WRONG!!!! You would pull out of the driveway and Dad would ask Mom if she remembered to unplug EVERY appliance in the house because he didn't want there to be a short which would cause a fire and burn everything to the ground. (Doomsday prophecy) Mom would usually say yes, but would hesitate just long enough to throw doubt into the air. Dad would say, "Are you sure???" and Mom would have to say "I'm pretty sure I did, but I can't remember if I unplugged the toaster." So now just 35 seconds up the road, Dad would slam on the breaks, let out a noise that sounded like a growl, turn the car around in your neighbor’s driveway, all to go back and check the stupid toaster. We kids knew better than to say a single word during this time because we would end up DEAD if we got involved. Mom would rush in and recheck every appliance and then come back out and confirm she did unplug the toaster. I'm pretty sure she had forgotten to unplug it, but there was NO CHANCE she was going to admit it to Dad because then he would have to double check all the appliances himself.
With Mom now back in the car, every appliance unplugged, certainly it was time for the vacation to begin . . . right? WRONG!!!!! Once that car was put in reverse, your sister would spout out those 7 words of doom that would set the tone for the remainder of the trip. "I have to go to the bathroom." Oh, the bane in my father's ears. Anytime a trip was interrupted by a trip to the bathroom, my father would die a little bit inside. I'm guilty of this today myself and I have a rule. "You will only eat when the car has to eat and you will only have to go to the bathroom when I have to go to the bathroom!!!!!!" Alas, women have bladders the size of a peanut, so I have felt Dad's pain time and time again over the years in my own travel adventures. I have learned that to a woman, 1 cup of water equals 14 gallons of urine. More on this later though.
Once my sister said those 7 words, we would wait for my Dad's head to split open and watch the fire and brimstone spill out of his head engulfing my sister in flames until all that remained of her was just a small pile of ashes. I would then open the car door, blow her ashes off the seat, and then scoot my little cute behind over so I would have more room during the trip. Instead of this wonderful mental image, we would get the whole, "I told you to go before we left!!!" Followed by, "I didn't have to go then." My Father would then lower his head on to the steering wheel and tell her to hurry up. Alice would run into the house and take care of her business while we would just sit there in complete silence knowing that whoever broke that silence, would surely die. Alice would then run back and get into the car which would prompt Dad to ask everyone in the car, "Does ANYONE else have to go?" By that time, even if I did have to go so bad that my eyes were watering, I would have just peed myself and sat there in my own urine soaked Wranglers for the next 8 hours because there was NO WAY I was going to be the one to hold this trip up any further. Out of sheer terror, no one would object, so it was finally time to really leave and Dad would announce "WE'RE OFF!" Which would take us to our next stage in this adventure . . . . . . . . .
Traveling
(to be continued in the next "puke")
Monday, May 23, 2011
Signs that the World is REALLY going to end.
I would have loved to have been inside Harold Camping's church this past Sunday morning. Sitting there with all the other believers and waiting for him to get up to the pulpit and say this:
"Ladies and Gentlemen. The name of today's sermon is. . . . . .OOPS. I did it again." (because this is the second time he pulled this one)
So I got to thinking, what in the world kind of signs would I have to be looking for that would truly tell me the end of the world was coming? I know we have the whole earthquake, floods, wars, and pestilence, but I also feel there could be some really definitive signs that would tell me the end of the world was nigh. Let's see if you agree with me.
#1. Lady GaGa and Justin Beiber decide to get married. The create an empire called Lady Beiber and begin to take over the world with their new and exciting brand of music, clothes, hair care products, and make-up that makes you look like a homeless person. They only grow more powerful when they have their first kid and they name it Lady GooGoo Beiber, even though it's a boy. This child has all the weirdness of GaGa added with the "I don't know what it is" of Beiber, and two days after his birth, he puts out his first album, "From my Womb" and the album flies to number 1 on the strength of the chart toppers off of it like, My Parents are Nuts, Why Was I Born This Way? and Blackjack Face. The mixture of all three of these forces on earth at the same time would definitely give me the sign that the end of the world was coming.
#2. Microsoft would, after years and years of success, unveil the newest product that will change the way that everyone functions in today's society. It would be called the I-Don't Give A Crap. People would run to shell out their $2,200 to get their hands on this incredible invention. There would be riots, theft, and chaos because the demand for this product couldn't be met. What does this product do? NOTHING. It's just a white pad the size of a notebook that when you turn it on, it does nothing. The light comes on and only the Microsoft logo appears, but they were able to brainwash into thinking that this was the "coolest" device to have when you need to look cool. It's like a "down with the system" statement for all the yuppies. For an extra $600, you can add a pair of headphones that don't work either and different colored face plates that let you give this useless piece of crap its own identity.
#3. McDonald's finally buys out Burger King forming the largest fast food chain on the market. They decide to just place the word King in front of McDonalds to signify their victory, so King McDonalds is now born. In the truly scary part of the entire takeover, the marketing geniuses decide to use both Ronald McDonald and the Burger King in all their commercials. Now I already have a fear of clowns, see past blog, but I have also developed an extreme fear of that stupid Burger King in the ads. That King freaks the crap out of me so this would also be another sign that the end of the World was coming. The King and the Clown trying to tempt me with delicious fast food until I reached for it, and like the scene with Pennywise from IT, they would reveal their huge fangs and eat me like one huge Scotty McNugget. I'm shaking now from just the thought.
#4. A game show comes on TV where they take someone that is not paying their car bills and the repo men have to be called. Well once the Repo men get there, they give the loser a chance to win back their car that they HAVEN'T been paying for in the first place. To add to the drama, they will ask this person that has NOT BEEN LIVING UP TO THEIR END OF A CONTRACT, five easy questions in order to give them that chance to win their car back THAT THEY HAVEN'T PAID ON IN QUITE SOME TIME. But to make it easier on the FREELOADER, they will make them only have to get 3 of these questions right. Yep, you only need to score a 66% to win your car free and clear that YOU FELT YOU DIDN'T NEED TO MAKE THE PAYMENTS ON. Let's call this show Repo Games. What a better way to show society that you really don't need to pay your bills to get bailed out free and clear for knowing two songs off Michael Jackson's Thriller album. And let's not pick the ones that are just down on their luck, NO, let's pick the lowest form of society with gangsters, rednecks, and drug dealers. After all, if you can't help someone that has NO INTENTION of doing the right thing, WHO CAN YOU HELP???? Oh wait, I just turned on the TV and there IS a show like this already. OH NO!!! Maybe Harold was a little right.
Now for the lightning round.
#5. They come out with a sequel to No Country For Old Men calling it No Ending for Stupid Movie.
#6. American Idol finally does away with theme weeks and lets the singers sing songs from artists that are relevant to them. They also don't let America decide who is in the final 5, they let the judges earn their money and decide who goes on or not. (Sorry. I'm still bitter about James being voted off.)
#7. In a bold political move, Sarah Palin and Hillary Clinton join forces to go after the presidency AND THEY WIN in a landslide over Donald and Ivanka Trump!!!! After 6 months in office, their cycles sync, and from that moment on, there is a small country blown up once every 28 days.
#8. Kate Gosselin, The Duggers, and the Octomom all join forces and take over Canada in like 3 days of annoying the crap out of the country. They immediately change the name from Canada, to LATSM, which stands for. . . Look at these stretch marks. Not that this would really be the end of the world, but them having their own country CAN'T BE GOOD!!!! In like six years, they would have the same population as America.
#9. Someone turns out to like all my writing and decides to give me a book deal, magazine deal, and a tour to promote myself. I will be given millions of dollars up front and the second I have it in my hand. . . . . . . . . THE FREAKING END OF THE WORLD COMES!!!!! MY LUCK!!!!!!
Smile!!!
"Ladies and Gentlemen. The name of today's sermon is. . . . . .OOPS. I did it again." (because this is the second time he pulled this one)
So I got to thinking, what in the world kind of signs would I have to be looking for that would truly tell me the end of the world was coming? I know we have the whole earthquake, floods, wars, and pestilence, but I also feel there could be some really definitive signs that would tell me the end of the world was nigh. Let's see if you agree with me.
#1. Lady GaGa and Justin Beiber decide to get married. The create an empire called Lady Beiber and begin to take over the world with their new and exciting brand of music, clothes, hair care products, and make-up that makes you look like a homeless person. They only grow more powerful when they have their first kid and they name it Lady GooGoo Beiber, even though it's a boy. This child has all the weirdness of GaGa added with the "I don't know what it is" of Beiber, and two days after his birth, he puts out his first album, "From my Womb" and the album flies to number 1 on the strength of the chart toppers off of it like, My Parents are Nuts, Why Was I Born This Way? and Blackjack Face. The mixture of all three of these forces on earth at the same time would definitely give me the sign that the end of the world was coming.
#2. Microsoft would, after years and years of success, unveil the newest product that will change the way that everyone functions in today's society. It would be called the I-Don't Give A Crap. People would run to shell out their $2,200 to get their hands on this incredible invention. There would be riots, theft, and chaos because the demand for this product couldn't be met. What does this product do? NOTHING. It's just a white pad the size of a notebook that when you turn it on, it does nothing. The light comes on and only the Microsoft logo appears, but they were able to brainwash into thinking that this was the "coolest" device to have when you need to look cool. It's like a "down with the system" statement for all the yuppies. For an extra $600, you can add a pair of headphones that don't work either and different colored face plates that let you give this useless piece of crap its own identity.
#3. McDonald's finally buys out Burger King forming the largest fast food chain on the market. They decide to just place the word King in front of McDonalds to signify their victory, so King McDonalds is now born. In the truly scary part of the entire takeover, the marketing geniuses decide to use both Ronald McDonald and the Burger King in all their commercials. Now I already have a fear of clowns, see past blog, but I have also developed an extreme fear of that stupid Burger King in the ads. That King freaks the crap out of me so this would also be another sign that the end of the World was coming. The King and the Clown trying to tempt me with delicious fast food until I reached for it, and like the scene with Pennywise from IT, they would reveal their huge fangs and eat me like one huge Scotty McNugget. I'm shaking now from just the thought.
#4. A game show comes on TV where they take someone that is not paying their car bills and the repo men have to be called. Well once the Repo men get there, they give the loser a chance to win back their car that they HAVEN'T been paying for in the first place. To add to the drama, they will ask this person that has NOT BEEN LIVING UP TO THEIR END OF A CONTRACT, five easy questions in order to give them that chance to win their car back THAT THEY HAVEN'T PAID ON IN QUITE SOME TIME. But to make it easier on the FREELOADER, they will make them only have to get 3 of these questions right. Yep, you only need to score a 66% to win your car free and clear that YOU FELT YOU DIDN'T NEED TO MAKE THE PAYMENTS ON. Let's call this show Repo Games. What a better way to show society that you really don't need to pay your bills to get bailed out free and clear for knowing two songs off Michael Jackson's Thriller album. And let's not pick the ones that are just down on their luck, NO, let's pick the lowest form of society with gangsters, rednecks, and drug dealers. After all, if you can't help someone that has NO INTENTION of doing the right thing, WHO CAN YOU HELP???? Oh wait, I just turned on the TV and there IS a show like this already. OH NO!!! Maybe Harold was a little right.
Now for the lightning round.
#5. They come out with a sequel to No Country For Old Men calling it No Ending for Stupid Movie.
#6. American Idol finally does away with theme weeks and lets the singers sing songs from artists that are relevant to them. They also don't let America decide who is in the final 5, they let the judges earn their money and decide who goes on or not. (Sorry. I'm still bitter about James being voted off.)
#7. In a bold political move, Sarah Palin and Hillary Clinton join forces to go after the presidency AND THEY WIN in a landslide over Donald and Ivanka Trump!!!! After 6 months in office, their cycles sync, and from that moment on, there is a small country blown up once every 28 days.
#8. Kate Gosselin, The Duggers, and the Octomom all join forces and take over Canada in like 3 days of annoying the crap out of the country. They immediately change the name from Canada, to LATSM, which stands for. . . Look at these stretch marks. Not that this would really be the end of the world, but them having their own country CAN'T BE GOOD!!!! In like six years, they would have the same population as America.
#9. Someone turns out to like all my writing and decides to give me a book deal, magazine deal, and a tour to promote myself. I will be given millions of dollars up front and the second I have it in my hand. . . . . . . . . THE FREAKING END OF THE WORLD COMES!!!!! MY LUCK!!!!!!
Smile!!!
Friday, May 13, 2011
05/12/99. R.I.P. my friend.
I've been debating doing this one for quite sometime, but upon looking at something the other day, I decided that there was no better time to go ahead and do it than now. If you look over the contract we have with this blog, you will see that I never promised that every blog I do will be hilarious and carefree. In fact, there are probably going to be times that I will be down right depressing depending on my mood. I don't think I've strayed too far from the funny, but this "Puke". . . . I'm doing it for myself.
Some of you might stop reading when you see that it's not about something funny and some of you might continue to read it and think to yourself, "Self. Scott is a sissy to even be writing this. Where is his man card." If so, so be it, but know that I will "return to my roots" after I get this one out of my head and on to this blog and will give you something to laugh about. Like I said though, this one is for me, but you are more than welcome to come along with me on this memory. Maybe some of you will be able to relate and maybe some of you will shed a tear and share your own memory with me. Let's load up the sad train and head out on this latest journey.
May 5th, 1999 marks one of the saddest days that I have ever had in my 42 years on this planet. It's a day that has left a mark on me and a day that even now, when looking back, it doesn't take much for me get that lump in my throat. (This is where I'm going to lose some of you) That was the day that I took my beloved dog to the vet to have him put to sleep. Now instead of rushing to the end though, this is going to be like one of those movies that show you the end at the beginning, but then fade back to the beginning to see how we got there. Let me paint the entire picture though on just who that dog was to me.
(Insert fuzzy memory sequence)
Growing up, there were two major goals I had set aside for me as a child. #1. Was live in Florida and #2. Own an English Bulldog. I know, I kind of didn't set the bar very high, but like I said, I was a kid. So upon making it to Florida in 1992, I realized that I might be able to hit that other goal given the right searching and income tax check. I didn't realize how expensive those dogs were as a child, so I had to plan that step out a little better once I realized what I was asking for.
Jump roughly two years later, and I was able to achieve that goal. On April 6th, 1994, there was a litter of 5 little English Bulldog puppies brought into this world and after a lead given to me, I was on my way up to take a look at them. I think we all know that the worst thing you can EVER do is say that you are going to just "GO LOOK" at a puppy. I'm willing to bet that 9 out of 10 times, your butt ends up buying that puppy because who can turn down that puppy smell and cuteness overload? Well I was no different. Once I picked up that little white bulldog, I knew that he was going to be mine. I looked into his eyes and he looked back at me like, "DUDE. Where have you been all my life? Can I call you Daddy now?" $800 later, and he was MINE!!!!
Let me branch off and say right now that I have never had my own children, so this was the closest thing I've ever come to that whole "parent/child" bonding moment. He was mine and I was his immediately. The worst part was walking away from him right then because he was only four weeks old at the time and I would still have to wait four more until I could pick him up and bring him home. That sucked, but we were able to figure out his name and after one call to the breeder, my child now had a name. He looked like such a little brute and we all came up with only one name that would fit for him. . . . . . .KONG!!!! On his AKC papers, he became known as Sir Kong from Sebring.
I waited out the LONG four weeks until we could go back and get him and as luck has it, I wasn't able to go get him on that day because of work, but my girlfriend at the time went up and got him for me. When she brought him back to me, I couldn't believe how much he had grown in those four weeks. He fit in one hand when we went and looked at him, but now, I had to use two hands to hold the little turd. I took him in my arms and snuffled with him. What is snuffled you might ask? It the term I call sticking my face up his, forehead to forehead, and just smelling him in. Sometimes he would bless me with a wet snort, and sometimes he would lick me. I would snuffle with him all the time because he was my kid and I was his Daddy. (Wonder how many of you I just lost there)
I had my boy and we were it. He was pretty much my child from that moment on and we were inseparable. Kong and me, me and Kong. The white English Bulldog that I always wanted and he had such a personality. He was like a big kid running around and I was right there with him. The term "Man's Best Friend" couldn't fit him any better and I was "Dog's Best Friend" to him. For those of you that have ever had a dog that you love like that, you know exactly what I'm talking about. If you haven't ever felt that bond, then I can't help you with that. Go buy a dog so you can experience it.
I could always count on a few things with Kong. #1. He was going to sit there while I ate and drool. #2. He would follow me around the house just to be around me. #3. He loved to wrestle and so did I. That's the reason I liked his size so much. He was roughly 70 lbs. of muscle and it was like petting a horse. I couldn't have a little yipper dog because I would go to play with it and end up throwing it 20 ft. on accident. #4. He would snore. Which that was truly adorable. and #5. If you were new to my house. . . .you were going to get humped. More on that later though.
Kong wasn't a barker. In fact, the first time he barked, he looked at me scared as if to say, "There's a dog in the house Daddy. I just heard him bark. Hold ME!!!" He also did the same thing the first time he farted, but I told him that I wasn't going to hold him and in fact, it was him and not me for a change. He was becoming just like me. Sniff. . . .Sniff. . . . They grow up to soon.
I can remember thinking I was going to lose him as a puppy though, because I came home from the store, and he had decided to eat one of my CD's. That's right. He used my Kiss CD as a chew toy and devoured most of it. All I could think was it cutting up his insides and him dying from that, but nothing happened, but I do think his poop had reflective properties for a day or two though. OUCH!!!!
The only flaw that Kong had was the whole humping thing. I don't know what was up with the little turd, but if you came over to my house, you were going to get greeted in two ways. The first was me saying hello to you and the second was Kong trying to say hello to your leg. This had to be the horniest dog that I ever have been around, and being that he was a big dog, it looked like a prison scene on a couple instances. My brother-in-law had a "moment" the first time he met Kong, and it became one of my favorites.
I was visiting my folks and Kong was out on the Lanai (porch). I told my brother-in-law to come out and meet Kong, so he came out and Kong was very cool about it at first. Now Kong's toy was there, a rope with a knot in it, and I told him to throw it so Kong could go get it. My brother-in-law threw the toy, and Kong took about three steps towards the toy then realized that he hadn't really "Greeted" my brother-in-law properly yet. So he spun around in a flash, jumped up, and latched himself on to his leg and began to do the "Red Rocket Shuffle". My brother-in-law let out a yelp as Kong wrapped his front legs around his and went to town. My brother-in-law just kept yelling, "WHAT IS HE DOING??? WHAT IS HE DOING???" Well this led me to bust out laughing, like I am right now, and when I grabbed Kong's collar and pulled him off, the second my brother-in-law turned to get inside, Kong yanked, and being that I was laughing so hard, I couldn't hold him. What happened next was the icing on the cake. My brother-in-law was at the glass sliding door to head in, when Kong got him from behind. This led to my brother-in-law being pinned against the glass doors as Kong did the "Humpty Dance". To make matters worse, my sister and my two nephews were just inside the doors, so they had a front row view of the action. All they could see was my brother-in-law pushed against the glass screaming, "GET HIM OFF ME. GET HIM OFF ME." I was on my knees just picturing the trauma my nephews were witness too, but I was also laughing so hard that it took all my strength to get him off my brother-in-law. Once off him, my brother-in-law ran inside looking like a rape victim. He spun around and looked at me and his attacker and all he could say was, "I feel so violated."
I could tell you story after story of what a great dog he was and how he just made me smile, but I really just want you to know that he was truly one of those dogs that was human to me. He was my kid and I hope some of you have had the pleasure of having a pet that fit this description. There is nothing as great as a dog, or cat, that loves you unconditionally. They put their trust in you and you are the center of their world. Sure, they mainly want food, but they also want affection, attention, love, and snuffles. That's why what comes next is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life.
I had noticed lumps in his neck one day while petting him and they just didn't feel right. I took him to the vet and after a full check-up, the vet had me feel all his lymph nodes and pointed out that all of them were swollen which meant only one thing. My greatest fear materialized and they announced that Kong had Lymphoma and that it was all through his little body. He was only 5 years old and having to face this with my "kid" was not something I was ready for. He was too young for this. They offered a treatment program that would prolong his life by about a year or so, but would make him sick most the time. It was expensive and I couldn't see spending that much money and not doing much more than just keeping him alive for my sake and not his. The vet told me that he would progressively get worse and I would know when it was time to "put him down", how I hated those words when it came out of his mouth. This was my kid he was talking about.
Well I took him home and sure enough, he did progressively get worse. He began by slowly losing weight and not having an appetite. It was hard to watch because this was the dog that I came home one day to find out he devoured an entire un-opened bag of Oreo's while I was gone. All that was left was the plastic and black specks all over the carpet from the party that he had. He just looked at me like he wanted to know if I had anymore. LITTLE TURD!!!! I was looking forward to those Oreo's.
I really can't remember how quick he went down hill, but I was being a selfish person by ignoring what I knew I was going to have to do. I couldn't face knowing that I was going to have to be the one to take him to a place and not return with him. I was going to have to say goodbye to him soon and I wasn't ready to say goodbye. The worse and worse he got, I just kept telling myself that he was still strong and I didn't have to do anything yet. I would get so angry about it that I wanted to just reach down and snap his neck to make it all stop, but I could never do that. I wrestled with having someone else take him to "put him down", but I couldn't let anyone but me do it. After all, I was his Daddy.
The day finally came when I came home and looked at him and he told me through his eyes, "Daddy. It's time. I don't feel well. Please put me out of my misery." He had lost a ton of weight and his eyes were starting to get cloudy from the white blood cells freaking out in his body. He didn't look like himself anymore, but he was still my baby, and I still didn't want to do this. I took a deep breath and loading him in the car for his final car trip. I just laid my hand on him the whole way to the vet and told him how much I loved him and that it was going to be okay. The tears were now flowing heavy, but I think he was at peace with it.
I took him inside, and they knew why I was there so they let me walk him right back to the room and the vet came in right away. Through my tears, I managed to tell her that I wanted to put him out of his misery. She asked me if I wanted to be in there when they did it, and for a brief second, I wanted to run, but I wasn't about to let him go through this alone. I told her I would stay and she explained what would happen. I never understood what they did when they "put a dog to sleep", and she told me that they would give him an overdose that would quietly let him die. She explained that it was a very peaceful thing and that he would feel no pain.
She let me hold him while she injected him and all I could do was snuffle with him though tears and tell him, "Thank you for being such a good dog and goodbye." I felt him slowly relax and then I felt him go to sleep. This was when I knew that he was gone. She checked his heart and confirmed it. I laid him down on the table and just stared at his now limp body and all I could do was cry. My child was gone, but I was so glad I stayed because it was one of the most peaceful things I could imagine and I was there for him.
Some of you might stop reading when you see that it's not about something funny and some of you might continue to read it and think to yourself, "Self. Scott is a sissy to even be writing this. Where is his man card." If so, so be it, but know that I will "return to my roots" after I get this one out of my head and on to this blog and will give you something to laugh about. Like I said though, this one is for me, but you are more than welcome to come along with me on this memory. Maybe some of you will be able to relate and maybe some of you will shed a tear and share your own memory with me. Let's load up the sad train and head out on this latest journey.
May 5th, 1999 marks one of the saddest days that I have ever had in my 42 years on this planet. It's a day that has left a mark on me and a day that even now, when looking back, it doesn't take much for me get that lump in my throat. (This is where I'm going to lose some of you) That was the day that I took my beloved dog to the vet to have him put to sleep. Now instead of rushing to the end though, this is going to be like one of those movies that show you the end at the beginning, but then fade back to the beginning to see how we got there. Let me paint the entire picture though on just who that dog was to me.
(Insert fuzzy memory sequence)
Growing up, there were two major goals I had set aside for me as a child. #1. Was live in Florida and #2. Own an English Bulldog. I know, I kind of didn't set the bar very high, but like I said, I was a kid. So upon making it to Florida in 1992, I realized that I might be able to hit that other goal given the right searching and income tax check. I didn't realize how expensive those dogs were as a child, so I had to plan that step out a little better once I realized what I was asking for.
Jump roughly two years later, and I was able to achieve that goal. On April 6th, 1994, there was a litter of 5 little English Bulldog puppies brought into this world and after a lead given to me, I was on my way up to take a look at them. I think we all know that the worst thing you can EVER do is say that you are going to just "GO LOOK" at a puppy. I'm willing to bet that 9 out of 10 times, your butt ends up buying that puppy because who can turn down that puppy smell and cuteness overload? Well I was no different. Once I picked up that little white bulldog, I knew that he was going to be mine. I looked into his eyes and he looked back at me like, "DUDE. Where have you been all my life? Can I call you Daddy now?" $800 later, and he was MINE!!!!
Let me branch off and say right now that I have never had my own children, so this was the closest thing I've ever come to that whole "parent/child" bonding moment. He was mine and I was his immediately. The worst part was walking away from him right then because he was only four weeks old at the time and I would still have to wait four more until I could pick him up and bring him home. That sucked, but we were able to figure out his name and after one call to the breeder, my child now had a name. He looked like such a little brute and we all came up with only one name that would fit for him. . . . . . .KONG!!!! On his AKC papers, he became known as Sir Kong from Sebring.
I waited out the LONG four weeks until we could go back and get him and as luck has it, I wasn't able to go get him on that day because of work, but my girlfriend at the time went up and got him for me. When she brought him back to me, I couldn't believe how much he had grown in those four weeks. He fit in one hand when we went and looked at him, but now, I had to use two hands to hold the little turd. I took him in my arms and snuffled with him. What is snuffled you might ask? It the term I call sticking my face up his, forehead to forehead, and just smelling him in. Sometimes he would bless me with a wet snort, and sometimes he would lick me. I would snuffle with him all the time because he was my kid and I was his Daddy. (Wonder how many of you I just lost there)
I had my boy and we were it. He was pretty much my child from that moment on and we were inseparable. Kong and me, me and Kong. The white English Bulldog that I always wanted and he had such a personality. He was like a big kid running around and I was right there with him. The term "Man's Best Friend" couldn't fit him any better and I was "Dog's Best Friend" to him. For those of you that have ever had a dog that you love like that, you know exactly what I'm talking about. If you haven't ever felt that bond, then I can't help you with that. Go buy a dog so you can experience it.
I could always count on a few things with Kong. #1. He was going to sit there while I ate and drool. #2. He would follow me around the house just to be around me. #3. He loved to wrestle and so did I. That's the reason I liked his size so much. He was roughly 70 lbs. of muscle and it was like petting a horse. I couldn't have a little yipper dog because I would go to play with it and end up throwing it 20 ft. on accident. #4. He would snore. Which that was truly adorable. and #5. If you were new to my house. . . .you were going to get humped. More on that later though.
Kong wasn't a barker. In fact, the first time he barked, he looked at me scared as if to say, "There's a dog in the house Daddy. I just heard him bark. Hold ME!!!" He also did the same thing the first time he farted, but I told him that I wasn't going to hold him and in fact, it was him and not me for a change. He was becoming just like me. Sniff. . . .Sniff. . . . They grow up to soon.
I can remember thinking I was going to lose him as a puppy though, because I came home from the store, and he had decided to eat one of my CD's. That's right. He used my Kiss CD as a chew toy and devoured most of it. All I could think was it cutting up his insides and him dying from that, but nothing happened, but I do think his poop had reflective properties for a day or two though. OUCH!!!!
The only flaw that Kong had was the whole humping thing. I don't know what was up with the little turd, but if you came over to my house, you were going to get greeted in two ways. The first was me saying hello to you and the second was Kong trying to say hello to your leg. This had to be the horniest dog that I ever have been around, and being that he was a big dog, it looked like a prison scene on a couple instances. My brother-in-law had a "moment" the first time he met Kong, and it became one of my favorites.
I was visiting my folks and Kong was out on the Lanai (porch). I told my brother-in-law to come out and meet Kong, so he came out and Kong was very cool about it at first. Now Kong's toy was there, a rope with a knot in it, and I told him to throw it so Kong could go get it. My brother-in-law threw the toy, and Kong took about three steps towards the toy then realized that he hadn't really "Greeted" my brother-in-law properly yet. So he spun around in a flash, jumped up, and latched himself on to his leg and began to do the "Red Rocket Shuffle". My brother-in-law let out a yelp as Kong wrapped his front legs around his and went to town. My brother-in-law just kept yelling, "WHAT IS HE DOING??? WHAT IS HE DOING???" Well this led me to bust out laughing, like I am right now, and when I grabbed Kong's collar and pulled him off, the second my brother-in-law turned to get inside, Kong yanked, and being that I was laughing so hard, I couldn't hold him. What happened next was the icing on the cake. My brother-in-law was at the glass sliding door to head in, when Kong got him from behind. This led to my brother-in-law being pinned against the glass doors as Kong did the "Humpty Dance". To make matters worse, my sister and my two nephews were just inside the doors, so they had a front row view of the action. All they could see was my brother-in-law pushed against the glass screaming, "GET HIM OFF ME. GET HIM OFF ME." I was on my knees just picturing the trauma my nephews were witness too, but I was also laughing so hard that it took all my strength to get him off my brother-in-law. Once off him, my brother-in-law ran inside looking like a rape victim. He spun around and looked at me and his attacker and all he could say was, "I feel so violated."
I could tell you story after story of what a great dog he was and how he just made me smile, but I really just want you to know that he was truly one of those dogs that was human to me. He was my kid and I hope some of you have had the pleasure of having a pet that fit this description. There is nothing as great as a dog, or cat, that loves you unconditionally. They put their trust in you and you are the center of their world. Sure, they mainly want food, but they also want affection, attention, love, and snuffles. That's why what comes next is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life.
I had noticed lumps in his neck one day while petting him and they just didn't feel right. I took him to the vet and after a full check-up, the vet had me feel all his lymph nodes and pointed out that all of them were swollen which meant only one thing. My greatest fear materialized and they announced that Kong had Lymphoma and that it was all through his little body. He was only 5 years old and having to face this with my "kid" was not something I was ready for. He was too young for this. They offered a treatment program that would prolong his life by about a year or so, but would make him sick most the time. It was expensive and I couldn't see spending that much money and not doing much more than just keeping him alive for my sake and not his. The vet told me that he would progressively get worse and I would know when it was time to "put him down", how I hated those words when it came out of his mouth. This was my kid he was talking about.
Well I took him home and sure enough, he did progressively get worse. He began by slowly losing weight and not having an appetite. It was hard to watch because this was the dog that I came home one day to find out he devoured an entire un-opened bag of Oreo's while I was gone. All that was left was the plastic and black specks all over the carpet from the party that he had. He just looked at me like he wanted to know if I had anymore. LITTLE TURD!!!! I was looking forward to those Oreo's.
I really can't remember how quick he went down hill, but I was being a selfish person by ignoring what I knew I was going to have to do. I couldn't face knowing that I was going to have to be the one to take him to a place and not return with him. I was going to have to say goodbye to him soon and I wasn't ready to say goodbye. The worse and worse he got, I just kept telling myself that he was still strong and I didn't have to do anything yet. I would get so angry about it that I wanted to just reach down and snap his neck to make it all stop, but I could never do that. I wrestled with having someone else take him to "put him down", but I couldn't let anyone but me do it. After all, I was his Daddy.
The day finally came when I came home and looked at him and he told me through his eyes, "Daddy. It's time. I don't feel well. Please put me out of my misery." He had lost a ton of weight and his eyes were starting to get cloudy from the white blood cells freaking out in his body. He didn't look like himself anymore, but he was still my baby, and I still didn't want to do this. I took a deep breath and loading him in the car for his final car trip. I just laid my hand on him the whole way to the vet and told him how much I loved him and that it was going to be okay. The tears were now flowing heavy, but I think he was at peace with it.
I took him inside, and they knew why I was there so they let me walk him right back to the room and the vet came in right away. Through my tears, I managed to tell her that I wanted to put him out of his misery. She asked me if I wanted to be in there when they did it, and for a brief second, I wanted to run, but I wasn't about to let him go through this alone. I told her I would stay and she explained what would happen. I never understood what they did when they "put a dog to sleep", and she told me that they would give him an overdose that would quietly let him die. She explained that it was a very peaceful thing and that he would feel no pain.
She let me hold him while she injected him and all I could do was snuffle with him though tears and tell him, "Thank you for being such a good dog and goodbye." I felt him slowly relax and then I felt him go to sleep. This was when I knew that he was gone. She checked his heart and confirmed it. I laid him down on the table and just stared at his now limp body and all I could do was cry. My child was gone, but I was so glad I stayed because it was one of the most peaceful things I could imagine and I was there for him.
I slowly walked out of that room and to the front counter where they asked me what I wanted to do with the body. I decided to have him cremated so I could have his ashes. They sit in a small little urn on a shelf in my family room with a french fry in it in case he gets hungry. I drove home and the only thing I could do was listen to Peter Gabriel's song "I Grieve" over and over and wept. This was truly a day of despair for me.
It was a long, long time ago and I hate to admit it, but I cried while writing this blog because it still hurts and I miss him so much. He was my kid, my child, my baby, and my friend and I will never forget him. So when I get to heaven one day and the pearly gates are opened and Kong comes rushing out to greet me, I can't wait for St. Peter to tell me about the first time he was "greeted" by Kong. Then me and him will go find the Oreo bar and have a feast. I love you boy!!!!! Rest in Peace.
Smile!!!
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Mommy Time!!!!!!!
Well it was either "puke" about Osama or Mothers, but since I have a real weird taste in my mouth about the Osama thing, I'm going to head on over to Mom Land and sit a spell. Hope you don't mind! The only thing I will say about the Osama thing is SHOW THE DANG PICTURE!!!!! I'm not saying I don't believe you, but I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!!!! Trust me. I've seen all seven Saw movies, every Friday the 13th, and 10 minutes of Jersey Shore. . . . I can handle horror folks! They/we had no problem airing the beheading of an American at their hands, so I truly don't see what the big deal is. (Climbs off Soap Box) So it's off to the safety of Mommy Land for me. I don't know how much comedy is going to be in this one, so bear with me if you will. I have no clue where I'm going yet. Let's take the journey together shall we?
With Mother's Day on the horizon, I think it's only appropriate to discuss Mothers everywhere and to give thanks for what they have done and to give them some "Mad Props" for putting up with each and every one of us. In the case of me, my Mother TRULY deserves a medal for putting up with the crap I have put her through. Don't believe me, ask her!
What is a Mother? What constitutes Motherhood? What qualifications are needed to be deemed Mother worthy? Well if what I saw at Universal Studio's this past weekend was any indication, it really takes NO QUALIFICATIONS to be considered a Mother. Anyone can do it, but they can't all be good.
We were at Universal Studio's with some friends this past weekend in order to enjoy the park, watch the Mardi Gras parade, and to see the free concert offered that evening. So after a long day of walking around the park, we all decided to find us a place to sit down in order to have a great viewing area for the parade. We ended up finding a perfect spot, took a seat on the curb, and had roughly forty five minutes to wait until the parade begins. As we sat there, my wife turned to me and said, "Scott. Look across the street at those kids." I glanced across the street and at first I didn't see what was going on that warranted my attention. I just saw a lady and two kids in strollers sitting there. The kids were probably 1-2 years old and nothing seemed out of the ordinary until I noticed that they both were chewing on something.
(Insert double take and a squint here) Upon further review, I noticed that the kids were in fact chewing on something and this something was the flip flops from the ladies feet that sat in front of them. THAT'S RIGHT!!!!! I'll give you a second to let that sink in . . . . . . . . . . . gag . . . . . . . . . . . Okay. Time's up. This "Mother" had decided to take her flip flops off, THAT SHE HAD BEEN WEARING ALL DAY, and hand them to her precious bundles of joy in order to let them exercise their teeth on whatever funk was on those puppies. By the look of her filthy black bare feet, there was PLENTY OF FUNK to go around. Now all of a sudden it was like a train wreck. I couldn't look away!!!! All I could do was sit there and watch as the one child held this flip flop like it was the greatest thing EVER and gnaw on it like it was a Popsicle. I was shocked, amazed, amused, and disgusted all at the same time, and trust me when I say, "That was a lot of emotion to go through over this rare parenting feat." I was half tempted to scrape up the gum that was stuck to the sidewalk next to me and carry it over for the lady to give them as a night time snack. Surely they would love a piece of ABC peppermint gum with a pebble and a hair in it wouldn't they? Yummy!!!! Hard to compete with the flavor of Theme Park and feet though I imagine. It just seemed like this lady must have missed Parenting Tip #5. . . . Under NO circumstances are you to hand your child your USED footwear as a chew toy. There are germs that could be passed to them and their breath will smell like FEET!!!!!
So since anyone can pretty much be considered a Mother, then what makes a truly great Mother?
I truly don't think there can be a blueprint here. I think one of the cool things about being a parent is that you are able to adapt your style of parenting to fit the child you are taking care of. Some kids need kindness. Some need understanding. Some need support. Some, as in the case of me, need discipline. That's what makes Mother's so great. They have to learn to adapt on the fly.
In the era that I grew up in, it was a completely different family unit than what we have now. We didn't have my mom working while growing up, so in essence, most of my upbringing came from my mom because Dad was usually at work. You didn't have both parents working usually, so that's just how it happened. Mom took care of the house and Dad took care of the money. I really think that Mom drew the short straw while looking back.
Now what made our family a little different was that all three of us siblings were adopted. First my brother, then my sister, and then the greatest was saved for last. . . . . ME!!!! Once my folks had me in their arms, they just KNEW that they couldn't improve on me, so that was it, no more kids needed. People have asked me if there is a difference in being adopted and I have to say that there is, but it doesn't mean that we didn't have the same love in our house that others had. I was adopted roughly 2 months after my birth. My parents came home from vacation and there was a message from the adoption agency that I was all set to go. They ran right over and got me and the rest is history. Yeah, it's kind of boring, but I like to picture it more like this to add some flare to it.
(Screen goes blurry as I go to fantasy land)
My parents decided to adopt one more child because my sister and brother . . . . "just weren't right". They needed a child that was going to be perfect in every way because they already knew that the two they already had weren't going to be that child. So off to the Baby Store in the Mall. They walked in and could see to the right, all the little cages with babies in them. (For those of you that have seen a puppy store in the mall, this visual is working for you.) They walked up to the glass and started looking at all the little babies that were up for adoption. They saw a little girl but, after the experience they were having with my sister, they knew they didn't want another one of them. So they kept looking.
They could see babies rolling around in their cages, some screaming for attention, some sleeping peacefully, some sitting in their food bowls, but as they looked. . . . one caught their eye. It was the most perfect looking baby boy they had EVER seen. I mean, this baby boy made the one they already had look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. (This was me if you haven't guessed by now) I was sitting in my cage WORKING IT!!!!! I had my diaper hanging a little low so I looked cool. I was sitting in my cage leaning back against the rear wall and I was popping my baby food in my mouth like the Romans used to do. There was a glow. . . . THAT'S RIGHT. . . . A GLOW, coming from inside the cage because of just how perfect I was. I'm also picturing sun glasses, but I'm not sure how I would have gotten a hold of a pair, so I guess I will leave them out. If we would have been in Rome, I would have been called GREATICUS BABICUS!!!!
Their jaws hit the ground and they knew they had to have me. They were just so shocked that I was still available, so they asked one of the workers what the story was on me. The worker told them that I had just appeared like magic a couple of hours before they arrived. One second the cage was empty, then I was just there. It was like the Heaven's opened up and shot me down directly for them. They took one more look at my greatness and I gave them the CUTEST wink that they ever did see and I also gave them that little finger gun thing like I was shooting at them. If they could have heard inside my cage, they would have heard me say, "Goo. . . Goo". They immediately signed the paperwork and after paying $3.52 for me, I was loaded up in the car to be taken to my new home.
(Scream goes blurry again as we come back from fantasy land)
Adoption or no adoption, there is nothing like a Mother's love for their child. Now I might get some flack for this, but I had the greatest Mother in the WORLD. She didn't give birth to me, but she loved me the second she saw me, (I know. Who doesn't RIGHT?). From the second I was in her arms, I was her child and that is what Motherhood is all about. She would protect me, guide me, punish me (which I swear she enjoyed that), wash my mouth out with soap, love me, and be there for me in whatever capacity she was needed. She put herself second and her children first, except for when it came to our dog Benji that we later got, then it was Benji, Kids, THEN her.
I could make you laugh with story after story with all the different times I got in trouble, but this isn't the time or place for that. Nope, this one is to share the love that I have had for my Mother my entire life. She didn't HAVE to be a Mother, she CHOSE TO BE A MOTHER. That right there should tell you all you need to know about my Mom. She wanted kids, and even though God didn't give her the ability to have any of her own, she did everything in her power to get three kids to love. Even though the first two kids were duds, she ended up with the glowing perfect baby, ME, in the end. You know what they say, the third times the charm.
I am lucky enough to still have my Mother with me today. I actually work with her in real estate, so I get the joy, sometimes, of being around her day after day. Even though she's 80 now and I have noticed changes in her, there is one thing that is still the same. SHE LOVES ME WITH ALL OF HER HEART. She is still there for me when I need her, she still protects me from what she can, she still would wash my mouth out with soap if I gave her a reason, and she is still there for me in whatever capacity I need her. It's funny, but being we are in real estate together, she always has told me that I can call her Betty when we are doing business, but something about that just doesn't feel right, to me, she will ALWAYS be MOM!!!!
***I just made the mistake of letting her read a little of this so she is now rattling off story after story of things I should tell you about my childhood. Like the way she used to turn the playpen upside down over me so she could take a shower because I was an escape artist, or the time she took me at 2 years old to a funeral two states away and how perfect I was all the way until I walked into the funeral and decided to begin laughing loud and hard with NOTHING being able to stop me. She keeps saying things, but I will stop there. (There Mom. Those are for you.)
So if you are lucky enough to still have your Mother around like I am, BE THANKFUL and let her know that you are. If your Mother is no longer with you, then take a moment on Mother's Day to say Thank You to her because we all know she can still hear you. If you are married and you have children, make sure you let your wife know that you appreciate her and take your cheap butt out to the store and get her something from the kids. It's the very least you can do. Mother's Day is for that person in your life that has been there for you. It might not even be your real Mother, but someone that has been a Mother figure to you. TELL THEM THANKS!!!!! Let us celebrate the Mothers this Sunday with all the respect and love that we can give them, because remember Fathers, Father's Day is coming too and we want gifts also!!!!!
I'm going to wrap this puke up with a poem that I wrote last year for my Mom. You don't have to keep reading if you don't want to see my "soft" side, but I got tears from her off of this puppy, so I'm going to share it. Plus she wanted me to put it on here, so I'm going to obey her. Ain't I a great son???
It's Mother's Day
Throughout my life and all it brings,
There always seems few constant things.
Taxes are high and bills need paid,
but those aren't something that God has made.
What God did for me, 41 years ago,
Was bring me into love and let me grow.
He gave me a Mom that would be there for me,
Two parents in love, that was plain to see.
You showed me the way to grow up with big smiles,
You showed me your strength through the toughest of miles.
You taught me to try even when I might fail,
You held my small hand and were the wind in my sail.
Now years have passed by and one thing stays true,
All that you taught me still gets me through.
I still see your strength through the tough times of life,
I still see your love no matter the strife.
I might still fall down, but I know that you'll be,
Right beside me Mom, to comfort me.
You put yourself aside to make sure we're OK,
But sometimes you need me and so I will say.
Mom, I love you with all that I am.
I thank you for loving me, and offer all that I can.
I know that the road has been crushing at times,
Losses felt forever, the grief felt sometimes.
Just know that I'm there with you, even in spirit
The wind in YOUR sails and I want you to hear it.
I'm so thankful you're my mother and God had His way,
On giving me the best Mom on this Mother's Day!!!!
With Mother's Day on the horizon, I think it's only appropriate to discuss Mothers everywhere and to give thanks for what they have done and to give them some "Mad Props" for putting up with each and every one of us. In the case of me, my Mother TRULY deserves a medal for putting up with the crap I have put her through. Don't believe me, ask her!
What is a Mother? What constitutes Motherhood? What qualifications are needed to be deemed Mother worthy? Well if what I saw at Universal Studio's this past weekend was any indication, it really takes NO QUALIFICATIONS to be considered a Mother. Anyone can do it, but they can't all be good.
We were at Universal Studio's with some friends this past weekend in order to enjoy the park, watch the Mardi Gras parade, and to see the free concert offered that evening. So after a long day of walking around the park, we all decided to find us a place to sit down in order to have a great viewing area for the parade. We ended up finding a perfect spot, took a seat on the curb, and had roughly forty five minutes to wait until the parade begins. As we sat there, my wife turned to me and said, "Scott. Look across the street at those kids." I glanced across the street and at first I didn't see what was going on that warranted my attention. I just saw a lady and two kids in strollers sitting there. The kids were probably 1-2 years old and nothing seemed out of the ordinary until I noticed that they both were chewing on something.
(Insert double take and a squint here) Upon further review, I noticed that the kids were in fact chewing on something and this something was the flip flops from the ladies feet that sat in front of them. THAT'S RIGHT!!!!! I'll give you a second to let that sink in . . . . . . . . . . . gag . . . . . . . . . . . Okay. Time's up. This "Mother" had decided to take her flip flops off, THAT SHE HAD BEEN WEARING ALL DAY, and hand them to her precious bundles of joy in order to let them exercise their teeth on whatever funk was on those puppies. By the look of her filthy black bare feet, there was PLENTY OF FUNK to go around. Now all of a sudden it was like a train wreck. I couldn't look away!!!! All I could do was sit there and watch as the one child held this flip flop like it was the greatest thing EVER and gnaw on it like it was a Popsicle. I was shocked, amazed, amused, and disgusted all at the same time, and trust me when I say, "That was a lot of emotion to go through over this rare parenting feat." I was half tempted to scrape up the gum that was stuck to the sidewalk next to me and carry it over for the lady to give them as a night time snack. Surely they would love a piece of ABC peppermint gum with a pebble and a hair in it wouldn't they? Yummy!!!! Hard to compete with the flavor of Theme Park and feet though I imagine. It just seemed like this lady must have missed Parenting Tip #5. . . . Under NO circumstances are you to hand your child your USED footwear as a chew toy. There are germs that could be passed to them and their breath will smell like FEET!!!!!
So since anyone can pretty much be considered a Mother, then what makes a truly great Mother?
I truly don't think there can be a blueprint here. I think one of the cool things about being a parent is that you are able to adapt your style of parenting to fit the child you are taking care of. Some kids need kindness. Some need understanding. Some need support. Some, as in the case of me, need discipline. That's what makes Mother's so great. They have to learn to adapt on the fly.
In the era that I grew up in, it was a completely different family unit than what we have now. We didn't have my mom working while growing up, so in essence, most of my upbringing came from my mom because Dad was usually at work. You didn't have both parents working usually, so that's just how it happened. Mom took care of the house and Dad took care of the money. I really think that Mom drew the short straw while looking back.
Now what made our family a little different was that all three of us siblings were adopted. First my brother, then my sister, and then the greatest was saved for last. . . . . ME!!!! Once my folks had me in their arms, they just KNEW that they couldn't improve on me, so that was it, no more kids needed. People have asked me if there is a difference in being adopted and I have to say that there is, but it doesn't mean that we didn't have the same love in our house that others had. I was adopted roughly 2 months after my birth. My parents came home from vacation and there was a message from the adoption agency that I was all set to go. They ran right over and got me and the rest is history. Yeah, it's kind of boring, but I like to picture it more like this to add some flare to it.
(Screen goes blurry as I go to fantasy land)
My parents decided to adopt one more child because my sister and brother . . . . "just weren't right". They needed a child that was going to be perfect in every way because they already knew that the two they already had weren't going to be that child. So off to the Baby Store in the Mall. They walked in and could see to the right, all the little cages with babies in them. (For those of you that have seen a puppy store in the mall, this visual is working for you.) They walked up to the glass and started looking at all the little babies that were up for adoption. They saw a little girl but, after the experience they were having with my sister, they knew they didn't want another one of them. So they kept looking.
They could see babies rolling around in their cages, some screaming for attention, some sleeping peacefully, some sitting in their food bowls, but as they looked. . . . one caught their eye. It was the most perfect looking baby boy they had EVER seen. I mean, this baby boy made the one they already had look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. (This was me if you haven't guessed by now) I was sitting in my cage WORKING IT!!!!! I had my diaper hanging a little low so I looked cool. I was sitting in my cage leaning back against the rear wall and I was popping my baby food in my mouth like the Romans used to do. There was a glow. . . . THAT'S RIGHT. . . . A GLOW, coming from inside the cage because of just how perfect I was. I'm also picturing sun glasses, but I'm not sure how I would have gotten a hold of a pair, so I guess I will leave them out. If we would have been in Rome, I would have been called GREATICUS BABICUS!!!!
Their jaws hit the ground and they knew they had to have me. They were just so shocked that I was still available, so they asked one of the workers what the story was on me. The worker told them that I had just appeared like magic a couple of hours before they arrived. One second the cage was empty, then I was just there. It was like the Heaven's opened up and shot me down directly for them. They took one more look at my greatness and I gave them the CUTEST wink that they ever did see and I also gave them that little finger gun thing like I was shooting at them. If they could have heard inside my cage, they would have heard me say, "Goo. . . Goo". They immediately signed the paperwork and after paying $3.52 for me, I was loaded up in the car to be taken to my new home.
(Scream goes blurry again as we come back from fantasy land)
Adoption or no adoption, there is nothing like a Mother's love for their child. Now I might get some flack for this, but I had the greatest Mother in the WORLD. She didn't give birth to me, but she loved me the second she saw me, (I know. Who doesn't RIGHT?). From the second I was in her arms, I was her child and that is what Motherhood is all about. She would protect me, guide me, punish me (which I swear she enjoyed that), wash my mouth out with soap, love me, and be there for me in whatever capacity she was needed. She put herself second and her children first, except for when it came to our dog Benji that we later got, then it was Benji, Kids, THEN her.
I could make you laugh with story after story with all the different times I got in trouble, but this isn't the time or place for that. Nope, this one is to share the love that I have had for my Mother my entire life. She didn't HAVE to be a Mother, she CHOSE TO BE A MOTHER. That right there should tell you all you need to know about my Mom. She wanted kids, and even though God didn't give her the ability to have any of her own, she did everything in her power to get three kids to love. Even though the first two kids were duds, she ended up with the glowing perfect baby, ME, in the end. You know what they say, the third times the charm.
I am lucky enough to still have my Mother with me today. I actually work with her in real estate, so I get the joy, sometimes, of being around her day after day. Even though she's 80 now and I have noticed changes in her, there is one thing that is still the same. SHE LOVES ME WITH ALL OF HER HEART. She is still there for me when I need her, she still protects me from what she can, she still would wash my mouth out with soap if I gave her a reason, and she is still there for me in whatever capacity I need her. It's funny, but being we are in real estate together, she always has told me that I can call her Betty when we are doing business, but something about that just doesn't feel right, to me, she will ALWAYS be MOM!!!!
The Sweitzer Team
***I just made the mistake of letting her read a little of this so she is now rattling off story after story of things I should tell you about my childhood. Like the way she used to turn the playpen upside down over me so she could take a shower because I was an escape artist, or the time she took me at 2 years old to a funeral two states away and how perfect I was all the way until I walked into the funeral and decided to begin laughing loud and hard with NOTHING being able to stop me. She keeps saying things, but I will stop there. (There Mom. Those are for you.)
So if you are lucky enough to still have your Mother around like I am, BE THANKFUL and let her know that you are. If your Mother is no longer with you, then take a moment on Mother's Day to say Thank You to her because we all know she can still hear you. If you are married and you have children, make sure you let your wife know that you appreciate her and take your cheap butt out to the store and get her something from the kids. It's the very least you can do. Mother's Day is for that person in your life that has been there for you. It might not even be your real Mother, but someone that has been a Mother figure to you. TELL THEM THANKS!!!!! Let us celebrate the Mothers this Sunday with all the respect and love that we can give them, because remember Fathers, Father's Day is coming too and we want gifts also!!!!!
I'm going to wrap this puke up with a poem that I wrote last year for my Mom. You don't have to keep reading if you don't want to see my "soft" side, but I got tears from her off of this puppy, so I'm going to share it. Plus she wanted me to put it on here, so I'm going to obey her. Ain't I a great son???
It's Mother's Day
Throughout my life and all it brings,
There always seems few constant things.
Taxes are high and bills need paid,
but those aren't something that God has made.
What God did for me, 41 years ago,
Was bring me into love and let me grow.
He gave me a Mom that would be there for me,
Two parents in love, that was plain to see.
You showed me the way to grow up with big smiles,
You showed me your strength through the toughest of miles.
You taught me to try even when I might fail,
You held my small hand and were the wind in my sail.
Now years have passed by and one thing stays true,
All that you taught me still gets me through.
I still see your strength through the tough times of life,
I still see your love no matter the strife.
I might still fall down, but I know that you'll be,
Right beside me Mom, to comfort me.
You put yourself aside to make sure we're OK,
But sometimes you need me and so I will say.
Mom, I love you with all that I am.
I thank you for loving me, and offer all that I can.
I know that the road has been crushing at times,
Losses felt forever, the grief felt sometimes.
Just know that I'm there with you, even in spirit
The wind in YOUR sails and I want you to hear it.
I'm so thankful you're my mother and God had His way,
On giving me the best Mom on this Mother's Day!!!!
So to my Mom, I say I love you with all my heart and thank you for choosing to have me in your life. You are an inspiration to me and I will always thank God for placing me into your home.
So to my Wife, I say I love you too with all my heart and thank you for being such a wonderful mother to your children. You use your love to help guide their way and I am truly honored to be able to share this trip with you.
And to all the Mother's out there I say, "Don't be sad because your didn't get a child as perfect as me. We can't all win the lottery. Only MY Mom did."
Seriously though, thank you all for taking on one of the toughest jobs in the world and never complaining about it. You are loved and you are respected and you truly do deserve to have your own day. Make this day all about you and enjoy all the blessings that go with Motherhood. HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!!!!
Smile!!!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Trip Down Memory Lane Pt. 3 - The Sleep Over!!!
Okay. Enough poo and fart topics for a little while because quite frankly, it's starting to stink around here. (Ba Dum Dum). But really, with a name like Mental Vomiting, did you REALLY expect to read social commentaries on politics and social awareness? I sure hope not, because I'm not THAT kind of guy. I prefer to call myself an ostrich when it comes to politics. I just hide my head in the sand and try to think up ways to make people laugh, because life is serious enough and you don't need me to ruin your day too. So if you want intelligent topics on stuff like that, go read the Wall Street Journal. You won't see it here because I'm a bit of an idiot.
As you can see by the name of the topic, I'm hopping back into my DeLorean and taking that bad boy up to 88 m.p.h. and going back to my childhood, and maybe some of yours depending on your age. I've discussed the whole Street Light phenomenon in pt. 1, http://scottsweitzer.blogspot.com/2011/02/trip-down-memory-lane-pt-1.html, and I talked about the concept of playing pretend as kids, http://scottsweitzer.blogspot.com/2011/02/childhood-memories-pt-2-two-magic-words.html, so now I'm going to head on back and talk about a wonderful pastime as a child that has also seemed to go by the wayside for some reason or another. This was usually a weekend activity that involved several stages of planning and manipulation, on the kids' parts, but if done correctly, you would end up with either you spending the night at your friends house, or your friend staying over at your home.
Now before I get into the whole institution of the sleep over, let me say that this topic came into my targets after watching my step daughter have friends stay over. I guess it's the teenager in them coming out, but the whole time her friend was over, they were either on the computer watching videos on You Tube, talking on the phone, or texting someone. It's like they didn't even bother to talk to each other, they just communicated electronically to others. Such a weird thing. "Come on over and spend the night. We will not talk to each other for most of the evening and IT WILL BE A BLAST!!!!!" *Sigh*. . . . I guess that's the old person coming out of me. "Back in the day", we didn't have all the electronics to distract us from reality. Nope, we had to entertain ourselves by either conversation, games, playing pretend, eating, prank phone calls, and late night scary movies. We didn't have enough time in the night to accomplish everything we wanted to, but we were going to try.
The first major decision that us kids had to figure out was just whose house we were going to stay over at? That major decision had a lot to do with whose house was the funnest and whose house could you get away with the most. These were important things to take into consideration. "Can we pull off prank calls at Billy's house?" "Will Tim's parents let us go outside in the dark?" "Will Matt's parents let us stay up all night watching scary movies?" These were ALL questions that needed going over before the house was decided on. It was like being in an important cabinet meeting in the White House because we were deciding on the fun factor of OUR nation.
Once we figured out who the number 1 choice was, it was time for the next step. Getting at least ONE of the parents to agree to it. That's all it took, hit Mom in the middle of cooking or hit Dad in the middle of "piddling" and you were raising your success odds by 50%. The FIRST rule though was that you ALWAYS went to Dad first. Mom was going to be the one that had to pay some form of attention to you and your guest while Dad just did good to remember my name, so you didn't want her to have first crack at shooting down the idea. If you could get a yes from your Dad, then you had the whole, "Dad said it was okay if Matt stayed over." opening statement ready for Mom when you had to let her know. So all you would do was wait until your Dad just starts the lawn mower and get his attention. He will look at you with that confused look that only a father can give you, shut the mower off quickly, then ask you what you want with a tone between anger and confusion. Then you just cut right to the chase. "Can Matt stay over tonight?" or even better, "Matt's going to stay the night tonight, okay?" Being that he probably didn't care one way or the other, he would rather get back to mowing rather than really think the whole thing out, so he would usually say, "Fine." That's all you needed at that point. Your evening was good as gold unless Mom really had some real excuse not to let it happen. In the game of the sleep over, Playing the Parents was your strongest skill needed.
With that yes in the air, you would then move on to step three. Laying out the plans for the evening and getting your friend to start bringing over their stuff right away so your parents couldn't talk to each other and renige on the deal. Get that sleeping bag into your living room, his pajamas, his retainer, ANYTHING that belonged to him. Once it was in the house, it was too late for your parents to back out because he was already there. Then you would start to plan the evening. What was going to be the snacks of the evening? How much longer after the street light came on can we convince the folks to let us outside? Could we try to sneak in a couple of prank phone calls between snack time and scary movie time without getting caught? How late were we planning on staying up? If you planned all these important matters out before hand, you would be able to concentrate on the fun instead of looking for things to do. Fail to plan. . . . Plan to fail. . . .and in the ways of the sleep over, FAILURE WAS NOT AN OPTION!!!!
Finally. . . . Let the sleep over begin!!!!!! You could usually count on a couple of things on sleep over night. #1 was that dinner was going to be something that didn't take long to prepare for your Mother, meaning that it was going to be good. Like hot dogs, grilled cheese, mac & cheese, or some other form of non-nutritional meal. What a great way to start!!! #2. The rules would be a little looser around the house so your parents wouldn't come off looking like the ogre's that you have made them out to be. So instead of having to stay in after the street light came on, they might let you go out back and play around in the dark. Being a step parent, I now understand the reasoning for this. They were able to keep the kids out of their house longer and it also let them burn up any energy they had which would save their nerves when we would finally come in. SNEAKY SNEAKY SNEAKY!!!!! Playing out in the dark was such a wonderful thing to a couple of kids back then. You could swat the lightening bugs with tennis rackets, play hide and seek, and just roam around in the dark waiting for the monsters you knew were out there to grab you. There was a certain balance between fear, excitement, terror, and fun that was achieved perfectly.
Once inside, things would take a more tactical mission. We would try our best to find that spot in the house that no other siblings or parents would be. If you grew up in the north, that would be the basement. You would go down there so you could try to pull off maybe a couple of prank phone calls before it was time to set up shop as to where you were sleeping. If you were able to pull it off, and not get caught with the phone, some real fun could be had by all parties involved. Prank phone calls could range from the simple hang up to a more involved interaction with the victim. It all depended whatever the mood was in the room. I was not very original back then, so I would go with the classic fart noise and then hang up. Yeah, I know. STUPID. I just couldn't master the art of the prank phone call back then. I wasn't the quick witted idiot I am now. I will say that in high school I had one classic prank call that will ALWAYS go down as my best.
*Story bunny trail alert*
My parents had gone out of town for the night and instead of leaving me home alone, they figured that I should have a friend come over and spend the night with me. Lol. Oh the foolishness of parenthood!!!!
So I had a good friend of mine come over and after watching about every rated R movies we could get our hands on, we decided to pull out the old prank phone call card. Thanks to there being no Caller ID at the time, this was still a viable form of entertainment. We took turns making the calls and were having some luck on getting victims hacked off at us.
I then got an idea. Which for those that know me, know that when I have an idea, something bad is about to happen to someone, and in this case, it was my friend. I grabbed the handset to the phone and handed it to him. For you younger readers out there, we didn't have cordless phones back then, so the handset was attached to the base of the phone. I handed him the phone and dialed the number for him and told him to "talk dirty" to whoever answered. He didn't see me dial but his face turned red as he tried to figure out what to say. The other person answered and my friend said in his most seductive voice, "Um . . . hello". A female answered on the other end and said, "Hello" Then my friend asked how they were doing trying to figure out where to go with this. I kept waiting for him to catch on that something was wrong, but he wasn't.
I immediately busted out laughing because I knew what was really happening. My friend just thought he was the master prank caller because of my reaction.
He was making a few warm up comments for the bomb he was about to drop on her and then this is what happened next. He decided to cut right to the chase and hit her with his best line. "What color panties are you wearing?" (Which drove me off the couch and on to the floor from laughing so hard. Why? Keep reading). No sooner does he get that line out of his mouth, his eyes pop open so large that I would swear that Kermit the Frog just took over his body in some weird Muppet paranormal activity. He turned white as a ghost and couldn't slam the phone down fast enough.
"Why did he slam the phone down and crap himself?", you might ask. Well unknown to him, the number I dialed for this prank call was his own home number. I was expecting his sister to answer the phone, but the planets must have been smiling down on me that night, because it was his MOTHER that answered!!!!! So to sum it up for you, he just asked his own Mother what color panties she was wearing. How is that for mental trauma? Well after he said those words to her, she must have done something that he wasn't able to do. . . She RECOGNIZED his voice!!!! When his eyes popped open it was when she said his name and asked if that was him. He was now in shock.
I just layed there on the floor while it hit him what he had just done. He had just asked his mother what color panties she was wearing. PRICELESS!!!!!
*Story Bunny Trail Over*
After all the fun was done, you still had the best part of the night to come. You still had a good old fashioned horror movie to watch. Where I grew up, there was a show out of Cleveland called the Hoolihan and Big Chuck Show, later changed to the Big Chuck and Little John Show, that came on at 11:30 if I remember right. This show was the greatest thing to ever come along in a childs life. They would play some cheesy grade B horror movie and also have skits before or after the commercials. It was the perfect balance of comedy and horror. I can remember many of times being so terrified by the movie that I would have nightmares all night. The worst one ever was the movie, Count Yorga, Vampire. This movie scared the living CRAP out of me. I couldn't get to sleep without waking up every 10 minutes screaming because this cheesy vampire and his women were coming for me. I ended up seeing it on TV a couple years back and was all excited to be scared again. Let me say what a let down that was. I have NO IDEA what scared me. It was HORRIBLE!!! It's like remembering that huge hill you used to bike down as a child but when you see it now, it looks more like a bump. But at the time, good old Count Yorga left me traumatized to the point that I just wanted my Mommy and wasn't afraid to say it.
The sleep over used to be such a magical time. It was full of adventure, fun, and horror and I have a lot of great memories from it. I wish the kids today could understand the simplicity of it all. Just one or two friends getting together and hanging out. No texting, no computer, no cell phones, no You Tube. Just your imagination and a great horror movie was all we needed. We would wake up tired and exhausted, but it was so worth it in the end, because we had FUN. True innocent fun.
Except of course my perverted friend that asked his mother what color panties she was wearing! SICKO!
Smile!!!
As you can see by the name of the topic, I'm hopping back into my DeLorean and taking that bad boy up to 88 m.p.h. and going back to my childhood, and maybe some of yours depending on your age. I've discussed the whole Street Light phenomenon in pt. 1, http://scottsweitzer.blogspot.com/2011/02/trip-down-memory-lane-pt-1.html, and I talked about the concept of playing pretend as kids, http://scottsweitzer.blogspot.com/2011/02/childhood-memories-pt-2-two-magic-words.html, so now I'm going to head on back and talk about a wonderful pastime as a child that has also seemed to go by the wayside for some reason or another. This was usually a weekend activity that involved several stages of planning and manipulation, on the kids' parts, but if done correctly, you would end up with either you spending the night at your friends house, or your friend staying over at your home.
Now before I get into the whole institution of the sleep over, let me say that this topic came into my targets after watching my step daughter have friends stay over. I guess it's the teenager in them coming out, but the whole time her friend was over, they were either on the computer watching videos on You Tube, talking on the phone, or texting someone. It's like they didn't even bother to talk to each other, they just communicated electronically to others. Such a weird thing. "Come on over and spend the night. We will not talk to each other for most of the evening and IT WILL BE A BLAST!!!!!" *Sigh*. . . . I guess that's the old person coming out of me. "Back in the day", we didn't have all the electronics to distract us from reality. Nope, we had to entertain ourselves by either conversation, games, playing pretend, eating, prank phone calls, and late night scary movies. We didn't have enough time in the night to accomplish everything we wanted to, but we were going to try.
The first major decision that us kids had to figure out was just whose house we were going to stay over at? That major decision had a lot to do with whose house was the funnest and whose house could you get away with the most. These were important things to take into consideration. "Can we pull off prank calls at Billy's house?" "Will Tim's parents let us go outside in the dark?" "Will Matt's parents let us stay up all night watching scary movies?" These were ALL questions that needed going over before the house was decided on. It was like being in an important cabinet meeting in the White House because we were deciding on the fun factor of OUR nation.
Once we figured out who the number 1 choice was, it was time for the next step. Getting at least ONE of the parents to agree to it. That's all it took, hit Mom in the middle of cooking or hit Dad in the middle of "piddling" and you were raising your success odds by 50%. The FIRST rule though was that you ALWAYS went to Dad first. Mom was going to be the one that had to pay some form of attention to you and your guest while Dad just did good to remember my name, so you didn't want her to have first crack at shooting down the idea. If you could get a yes from your Dad, then you had the whole, "Dad said it was okay if Matt stayed over." opening statement ready for Mom when you had to let her know. So all you would do was wait until your Dad just starts the lawn mower and get his attention. He will look at you with that confused look that only a father can give you, shut the mower off quickly, then ask you what you want with a tone between anger and confusion. Then you just cut right to the chase. "Can Matt stay over tonight?" or even better, "Matt's going to stay the night tonight, okay?" Being that he probably didn't care one way or the other, he would rather get back to mowing rather than really think the whole thing out, so he would usually say, "Fine." That's all you needed at that point. Your evening was good as gold unless Mom really had some real excuse not to let it happen. In the game of the sleep over, Playing the Parents was your strongest skill needed.
With that yes in the air, you would then move on to step three. Laying out the plans for the evening and getting your friend to start bringing over their stuff right away so your parents couldn't talk to each other and renige on the deal. Get that sleeping bag into your living room, his pajamas, his retainer, ANYTHING that belonged to him. Once it was in the house, it was too late for your parents to back out because he was already there. Then you would start to plan the evening. What was going to be the snacks of the evening? How much longer after the street light came on can we convince the folks to let us outside? Could we try to sneak in a couple of prank phone calls between snack time and scary movie time without getting caught? How late were we planning on staying up? If you planned all these important matters out before hand, you would be able to concentrate on the fun instead of looking for things to do. Fail to plan. . . . Plan to fail. . . .and in the ways of the sleep over, FAILURE WAS NOT AN OPTION!!!!
Finally. . . . Let the sleep over begin!!!!!! You could usually count on a couple of things on sleep over night. #1 was that dinner was going to be something that didn't take long to prepare for your Mother, meaning that it was going to be good. Like hot dogs, grilled cheese, mac & cheese, or some other form of non-nutritional meal. What a great way to start!!! #2. The rules would be a little looser around the house so your parents wouldn't come off looking like the ogre's that you have made them out to be. So instead of having to stay in after the street light came on, they might let you go out back and play around in the dark. Being a step parent, I now understand the reasoning for this. They were able to keep the kids out of their house longer and it also let them burn up any energy they had which would save their nerves when we would finally come in. SNEAKY SNEAKY SNEAKY!!!!! Playing out in the dark was such a wonderful thing to a couple of kids back then. You could swat the lightening bugs with tennis rackets, play hide and seek, and just roam around in the dark waiting for the monsters you knew were out there to grab you. There was a certain balance between fear, excitement, terror, and fun that was achieved perfectly.
Once inside, things would take a more tactical mission. We would try our best to find that spot in the house that no other siblings or parents would be. If you grew up in the north, that would be the basement. You would go down there so you could try to pull off maybe a couple of prank phone calls before it was time to set up shop as to where you were sleeping. If you were able to pull it off, and not get caught with the phone, some real fun could be had by all parties involved. Prank phone calls could range from the simple hang up to a more involved interaction with the victim. It all depended whatever the mood was in the room. I was not very original back then, so I would go with the classic fart noise and then hang up. Yeah, I know. STUPID. I just couldn't master the art of the prank phone call back then. I wasn't the quick witted idiot I am now. I will say that in high school I had one classic prank call that will ALWAYS go down as my best.
*Story bunny trail alert*
My parents had gone out of town for the night and instead of leaving me home alone, they figured that I should have a friend come over and spend the night with me. Lol. Oh the foolishness of parenthood!!!!
So I had a good friend of mine come over and after watching about every rated R movies we could get our hands on, we decided to pull out the old prank phone call card. Thanks to there being no Caller ID at the time, this was still a viable form of entertainment. We took turns making the calls and were having some luck on getting victims hacked off at us.
I then got an idea. Which for those that know me, know that when I have an idea, something bad is about to happen to someone, and in this case, it was my friend. I grabbed the handset to the phone and handed it to him. For you younger readers out there, we didn't have cordless phones back then, so the handset was attached to the base of the phone. I handed him the phone and dialed the number for him and told him to "talk dirty" to whoever answered. He didn't see me dial but his face turned red as he tried to figure out what to say. The other person answered and my friend said in his most seductive voice, "Um . . . hello". A female answered on the other end and said, "Hello" Then my friend asked how they were doing trying to figure out where to go with this. I kept waiting for him to catch on that something was wrong, but he wasn't.
I immediately busted out laughing because I knew what was really happening. My friend just thought he was the master prank caller because of my reaction.
He was making a few warm up comments for the bomb he was about to drop on her and then this is what happened next. He decided to cut right to the chase and hit her with his best line. "What color panties are you wearing?" (Which drove me off the couch and on to the floor from laughing so hard. Why? Keep reading). No sooner does he get that line out of his mouth, his eyes pop open so large that I would swear that Kermit the Frog just took over his body in some weird Muppet paranormal activity. He turned white as a ghost and couldn't slam the phone down fast enough.
"Why did he slam the phone down and crap himself?", you might ask. Well unknown to him, the number I dialed for this prank call was his own home number. I was expecting his sister to answer the phone, but the planets must have been smiling down on me that night, because it was his MOTHER that answered!!!!! So to sum it up for you, he just asked his own Mother what color panties she was wearing. How is that for mental trauma? Well after he said those words to her, she must have done something that he wasn't able to do. . . She RECOGNIZED his voice!!!! When his eyes popped open it was when she said his name and asked if that was him. He was now in shock.
I just layed there on the floor while it hit him what he had just done. He had just asked his mother what color panties she was wearing. PRICELESS!!!!!
*Story Bunny Trail Over*
After all the fun was done, you still had the best part of the night to come. You still had a good old fashioned horror movie to watch. Where I grew up, there was a show out of Cleveland called the Hoolihan and Big Chuck Show, later changed to the Big Chuck and Little John Show, that came on at 11:30 if I remember right. This show was the greatest thing to ever come along in a childs life. They would play some cheesy grade B horror movie and also have skits before or after the commercials. It was the perfect balance of comedy and horror. I can remember many of times being so terrified by the movie that I would have nightmares all night. The worst one ever was the movie, Count Yorga, Vampire. This movie scared the living CRAP out of me. I couldn't get to sleep without waking up every 10 minutes screaming because this cheesy vampire and his women were coming for me. I ended up seeing it on TV a couple years back and was all excited to be scared again. Let me say what a let down that was. I have NO IDEA what scared me. It was HORRIBLE!!! It's like remembering that huge hill you used to bike down as a child but when you see it now, it looks more like a bump. But at the time, good old Count Yorga left me traumatized to the point that I just wanted my Mommy and wasn't afraid to say it.
The sleep over used to be such a magical time. It was full of adventure, fun, and horror and I have a lot of great memories from it. I wish the kids today could understand the simplicity of it all. Just one or two friends getting together and hanging out. No texting, no computer, no cell phones, no You Tube. Just your imagination and a great horror movie was all we needed. We would wake up tired and exhausted, but it was so worth it in the end, because we had FUN. True innocent fun.
Except of course my perverted friend that asked his mother what color panties she was wearing! SICKO!
Smile!!!
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