Tossed in a Minivan

Sometimes, your husband has to perform an intervention...maybe even an exorcism. 

I had gotten out of bed to the same routine for weeks, and when it came time for Mother's Day Weekend, I was not able to decide what to do for myself - or...let me rephrase that...I was not able to tell them what to do for me. I was sitting on the couch in yoga pants on Saturday morning, near tears for no reason I could identify, and my husband was repeatedly passing in front of me, looking at me with a tilted Marmaduke head, studying my face for hints. I threw a chunk of cantaloupe at him at one point. A lesser man would have faked a Home Depot run, but my husband kept circling his deranged spouse, occasionally clotheslining an approaching child...out of concern for their well being and obvious lack of judgment.

Joey had a game later that morning that had been cancelled but I didn't know it had been cancelled - I had gone through the rigmarole of getting five kids and a husband out the door in time, just to arrive at the field to learn that the game was not happening. This is like cancelling the space shuttle. I had enough momentum in me at that point to beat down Bruce Lee.

And so, I returned home to pour myself a hefty bowl of Fruit Loops. And when my husband asked again for his Mother's Day orders, I lifted my face from the huge metal mixing bowl that I was using, and I gurgled, "I don't know how to help myself," and then I went back into the bowl.

This was a first. I am very good at planning my own surprises, to include my birthday and Mother's Day. I am very good at telling people exactly what to do for me, and then I put my hands on either side of my face and say, "NO...you shouldn't have!" When, of course, they had no choice but to do what I instructed someone in the hierarchy to orchestrate.

And so, I got tossed in the minivan. My CHILDREN had packed their own bags. This is what their father told them to do. He said, and this is a stunner, "GO PACK A BAG." This meant that Mary had a massive bag filled with everything you need for Halloween; Joey had numerous pajama bottoms for day and evening wear...no shirt - of course - why would Joey want to wear a shirt - and Tommy rapidly grabbed a random handful of clothing without taking his eyes off his video game, filling his bag to capacity...which meant he was prepared to dress for his first day in America as a refugee. Anastasia had eyeliner.

My husband bought me a Venti Caramel Macchiato before we even hit the highway, which is enough caffeine to exorcise any demons. Sticking that much caffeine in me and putting me next to you in a minivan is an incredible act of love. My tongue never stopped moving...all the way through San Antonio, through dinner, up I-35, and into the hotel lobby; my husband never got a word in edgewise - I rehashed every event of the last 20 years, with specific focus on the last two weeks. I used both hands to help me illustrate my points as I spoke; to a passerby, it might have looked like I was conducting an orchestra OR playing charades...either way.

We ended up in Austin, where my husband took me directly to Wheatsville Coop and then to Whole Foods. I bought handmade soaps; essential oils, and an $8 chili pepper dark chocolate bar. We blasted KVET with the windows down and looked around at the young hipsters heading toward their trendy restaurants. With a provocative blend of scented oils tested on my wrist and one square of life-giving chocolate melting into my tongue at a time, I could feel my restoration happening.

And, as soon as I spoke barely a word for an extended period of time,

my husband headed back down to Corpus,

with Mary dressed for a cotillion; shirtless Joey in skintight Batman pj bottoms; Tommy dressed half for church/half for cleaning out the garage, and Ana looking like a Gothic Cleopatra.

Hope you all had a restorative Mother's Day. xxoo