My Collegiate Hangover

 I am not going to lie; I have had some whopper hangovers.  But this hangover is the worst ever.

My head hurts, I am so tired.  I think I have regrets, I am anxious, no appetite.  This has been the worst hangover I have ever had; it has lasted almost a week, and it is not because I drank too much.  

It is because my son graduated from college.  

I arrived on the campus of West Virginia University in September of 1979.  Tower one, floor 4, room 15 on Evansdale Campus.  My roommate, Annie, my friend since kindergarten, arrived with our black and white cat sheets, the ones with the red collars (we still have no idea why we picked those) and we became college freshmen. I chose WVU because you didn't need SAT scores (I have zero math skills) and could get in.  Annie was going there, and she talked me into it.

I had never been to the campus before but any campus represented independence and at 73 Bel Aire Road, "my house, my rules" did not focus on independence.

In hours, the two small town girls had met enough people to host a big party.  We came to play and came to win.  We spoke to everyone, about everything.  We thrived.  We didn't go to class much, but we thrived socially.

I absolutely loved all four years in Morgantown.  

On graduation day, there was a ceremony for all students in the coliseum.  I was not going to go.  My other friend said, "you are going, bring champagne and not your parents." I went.   I cried.  I cried because at that point, it was the saddest day of my life.  It was over.

At the school of journalism graduation, my grandparents attended along with my parents and best friend.  There was cake.

I packed up my belongings and headed back to the tiny town of Delmont with my WVU memories secured tightly in my heart.  "Take me home country roads, to the place I belong, West Virginia, mountain mamma, take me home country roads."  I sang this song over and over again once I got pack home.  It was not the same.

Fast forward 41 years to the day, my son Walker walked the stage in the coliseum.  His parents were present, but he didn't have champagne. He did not want to walk.  

The final moments of graduation, were about 2500 kids, arms locked, tasseled turned, singing loudly, drowning out John Denver," to the place I belong, West Virginia...Mountain mama, take me home country roads."  I saw parents with misty eyes.

For four years, I thought about that moment.  I thought about my son, all garbed up, swaying, arm in arm, singing loudly and proudly when the moment came.  And when it came, I just dropped one tear.

It had been a whirlwind.  Addie flying in, being delayed, Walker retrieving her in Pittsburgh, Frankin and I left long after we had planned because of work, of course we had to have one of those knock down car fights and I never checked the weather. WE didn't have the proper clothing. The weekend was off to a great start. (insert sarcasm)

First up, the party we were co-hosting with Walker's friend.  Honestly, I didn't think there would be many folks showing up.  I was so wrong.  The party was a smashing success.

After the party, we dragged ourselves to the hotel to get some sleep and left Walker with instructions for the next day.

Saturday, I got up at the crack of dawn and drove back to Delmont to visit my mom at the Twin Valley Cemetary for Mother's Day.  

This plan looked good on paper, it really did.  Nothing prepared me for seeing my mother's name on the headstone.  I sat and talked to her for a while. I had plenty to catch her up on and then I told her I had to get back to get ready for brunch.  As I was leaving, I said, out loud to her, "don't move, I will be back".  The most ridiculous thing I have ever said, and I know she was cracking up.

I decided to go visit the best uncle ever and my grandparents in the Mausoleum. Spoke to them, stuck some flowers in a vase for my mamaw and told them all, I wish we could just have one more day on the front porch on Vine Street, or the cottage.  

I went back to say goodbye to my mom, and she listened, she didn't move, she was still there.  

I got back in the car, and the little town that I lived in for a very small portion of my life, was so warm and cozy in my heart, I was overwhelmed.  I zipped through that town and waved at the Boy Scout Troop selling Mother's Day flowers at the light where Mook's hardware used to be and shook my head.  Didn't my brother and I just march down the street in the Delmont Halloween Parade as the Jolly Green Giant and Little Sprout?  Seriously?

I drove back to Morgantown in record time to get ready for brunch.

Everything was so fresh in my mind, like I was still 18 or 19.  It was so crazy. It was Twilight Zone like. 

Fabulous brunch and not so fabulous moving out of the frat house followed by dinner where I cried my mascara off because I was laughing so hard.

Sunday morning was the day.  Up and at them, finish cleaning, meet for lunch and get to graduation.  

When we were sitting at Marios eating lunch and opening graduation cards and gifts along with some Mother's Day gifts, it occurred to me that this would be the last time I would ever be in this eatery.  Marios was a regular stop for me over the years.  I most likely owned at least a chair in the place.  And I guess my chair would belong to someone else.

The big graduation ceremony happened in all of its glory.

We got back to our cars and went either home, back to a frat house or to check into a new hotel.

Walker had been, pretty much, most of the day, a jerk.  Tired, moody, edgy and not very nice and very "what is the big deal?"

I thought we would be spending our last night together eating dinner, but he announced that he was going to hang out with "his friends" one last time. 

I asked for one last picture over the bridge and after biting my head off, I dropped it.

He went his way, we went ours.  I got down to the hotel restaurant/bar and I sat there in silence and looked around at families with grandparents and kids and smiled.  I ordered a "country roads" beer and just sat there.  In silence.  And I was so glad.  I was just taking this all in.

My husband joined me with his new WVU pullover.  He sat down and ordered a drink and exhaled.  It was a "he did it, cannot believe it is over, no child support went with the student loans, he is growing up, and only one more to launch" exhale. 

My phone went off and I looked at the text "I am on a roller coaster of emotions, as we all are.  I will be back with high spirits and thinking we could order dinner. Love you momma" He was on his way. 

"A roller coaster of emotions"...that was my diagnosis.  I was also suffering from a roller coaster of emotions.  

I never cared where my kids went to college, just as long as they had a secondary education plan.  As long as they were comfortable with the plan, I knew we would be.  Was I happy that Walker went to WVU?  Sure. I never encouraged it, it was not a must, and it would have been okay if he didn't hang out on High Street.  It was his journey, not mine. 

But as I sat there, drinking a Country Roads, I knew, that I most likely would never be back to "the place I belonged".  It was time to find new places and new experiences.  And
the trips back to my hometown would most likely be limited to class reunions and funerals now that my mom had passed.  All of this broke my heart.

During lunch, when Walker opened up his graduation cards, there was a Dr. Suess one from a neighbor.  "Oh, the places you will go" card.  Walker commented that ever since he was in preschool, he has received this card.  "I was getting nervous that I was not going to get one here at the last chapter."  

I think it was the words "last chapter" that hit me.

It was definitely not his last chapter, but I am pretty sure, at 63 years old, my chapters were limited.

He joined us, we ate, laughed, talked about the day, the weekend and the next day. We also talked about what he "heard" at commencement and what he thought about the ceremony.

He was so glad to be done...with all of it.  He called it the "fuckery".  Noise, sliding trays, filth, parties, papers being due, conflict resolution."  He was done.  Done with all of it.  

But he admitted that he was so glad he walked across that stage, and he didn't realize how hard it would be to say goodbye and he knew that friendships he coveted would be different.

He apologized for his lousy attitude most of the day. "There were just so many emotions that I did not expect".

Monday, Walker and Franklin were driving to Grant, Colorado, where Walker would spend who knows how long as a cowboy at a ranch.

Rise and shine came quickly.  I showered, got my car unpacked and packed, drove to the front of the hotel to say goodbye to my boys.

And as I went to hug my son, I felt "it" from the toes up, and "it" consumed me.  I am honestly not sure what" it" really was, but it was there.  My kids never held on to my legs and hid in social setting and always ran into preschool, camps or school but this time "it" was different.  "It" was different because it was.  

I held on to my son like it was the last time I would ever see him and surprisingly, I cried. No idea why.  Not like a tear, but the kind of cry when you don't breathe and then you gasp, and you cannot control yourself. 

I got in my car and headed south.  No ceremonial lap around town, I headed south.

All day, as I traveled, my mind was like a spir-o-graph.  Remember those?  My mind within a boundary but all over the place.

This was not about the fact that my son graduated.  It was not about him going west for the summer and possibly longer, it was that he could.  It was over. He was going forward but he was going without us, or I mean me.

And that was ok.  Really, it was.  It should be this way.

It just happened so quickly.  He just graduated from preschool.  I was so busy raising the kids, doing laundry, putting money on lunch accounts and getting them to and fro, that I felt like I missed "it".  "It" being his mother. I mean I was always going to be his mother, but the daily, incidentals, the buying toothpaste and the "how was your day?" was over.  "It" was over.

And the following days, it filled my head.  It made my head hurt.  It made me not be able to sleep and it filled me with angst.  I kept thinking about all of the things I missed because I was worried about dirt on the kitchen floors or folding laundry. I thought about the night I yelled at him because he accidentally sat on the pumpkin sheet cake that I made for Boy Scouts that night.  I thought about how he told me that while we sat and watched Addie do horseback riding lessons, he wanted them too but was afraid to ask.  Is this why he wanted to go to the ranch?  Why didn't he speak up? Or did I miss the signal?

And of course, I threw in the "I have one foot in the grave and what are my kids going to remember about me?

Regrets, I had a few regrets.  Things I did, things I didn't do as a mom.  More things I wish I would have done.

I was being a very harsh judge, judging myself. 

And then, I got the call.  From my son.  He too was having a bit of a meltdown.

Had he made the right decision?  Was going to the ranch the right thing to do?  Should he come home?  "Jeez, this has been a lot mom".

It took my son to say, "mom, it has been a roller coaster."

I responded, "understatement.  It is all going to be ok".

And guess what, it is going to be. Looking back, we should have just chilled on Monday, slept and took a minute. 

My friend, her son also graduated last weekend.  He too had a meltdown.

Maybe there needs to be a class taught about what happens after you walk across the stage for the moms and the children.

I put his things away. Unsubscribed from WVU things, and took Morgantown out of my weather app.  I replaced it with Grant, Colorado.  

I went through his clothes, tossed some and folded some.

It made me feel better. The task I despise, folding laundry, made me feel better.  Ironic.

I went out on the porch to throw the dog a new ball and my neighbor went by and said, "Mountain Mamma, how did it go?"  (Notice the "it" again)

I laughed and said, "I am no longer, a mountain mamma"

To which he responded, "you are will always be the mountain mamma".

 

I Am Woman

When I was about 12 years old, I wanted to join the Columbia House Record Club.  I knew I had to ask my mom and prove that I had enough money for the next three records for her to give me the okay.  Much to my surprise, she was all about it.  We joined.  We both loved music.

Our long-playing albums would arrive, and we were so happy.

Then, I got an eight track, portable player that would operate with batteries or electricity.  I have never been "techy" but damn, I thought that player was the coolest thing ever!  

During our Columbia House membership, we start choosing the eight tracks because my dad put one in our car.  So, my mom and I agreed on Helen Reddy...I am Woman.

Like most woman of the 70's, we put in the eight tracks, roll the windows down and jam to "I AM WOMAN".  It was awesome.  Way before Taylor, Helen Reddy united women everywhere.

Fast forward about thirty-five years...

 Twenty years ago, when I was a mother of three children, my Marine neighbor stopped me outside and said, "heard you are getting new neighbors across the street from you...Know them...retired Colonel in the Marine Corp... tough...and another Marine....you have your work cut out for you".

Intrigued.  Why did I have my work cut out for me?  The warning man was also a Colonel in the Marine Corp, why did he say this?  I mean my kids were spirited but two were little and the "button" was only 10, what could he possible mean?

The "ladies" moved in.  One a retired Marine Corp Colonel and one an enlisted Marine (didn't know her rank...only knew about the Colonel).  Turns out, they each had homes, no children and sold homes and moved in together because family members were few and far away.

My first encounter is when they invited us to a Home Blessing.  I had never been to a Home Blessing, and I was curious and thinking what a nice gesture the invitation was to us.

As we walked across the street, two small children in tow, I realized that there were Priests and many guests.  I was a bit nervous.  I had toddlers.  I decided to keep them outside...safer and just listen to the Priests as they spoke from the outside.

In the backyard, there was a full-blown Carolina BBQ catering job going down.  The ribs did smell great.

As the Preist said the final AMEN, little Walker said, during that moment when nobody else was speaking or moving, "Do you all smell that good food they have cooking?"

I can still see him in his navy and white seersucker overalls and little white T-Shirt with his blonde hair looking at the crowd for acknowledgement while my other neighbors laughed.  They knew I was mortified.

As Walker and Addie ate two bowls of Banana Pudding, I said my goodbyes and walked across the street, toddlers in tow again.

This was the beginning of a friendship that was a little unlikely and lasted twenty years.

Two very structured women with no children and very used to quiet and calm were my neighbors.  My neighbor should have warned them, not me.

Casual waves, weather chats, Ruthie (our kitten/cat) chats, (she sunned on their porch) and gardening discussions were the glue.  

And the random discussions became more frequent.

In one discussion, they told me they had no plans for Thanksgiving, so, without hesitation, I invited them to Thanksgiving dinner.  They told me they would let me know.  When I told Franklin, he laughed.  

"They are not coming.  They didn't want to hurt your feelings". 

"Why are they not coming?"

"Who would give up peace quiet at Thanksgiving to come to this crazy place?"

They got back to me and told me they were graciously accepting out invite.

They attended Thanksgiving at our home for many years after.  I loved having them.  Their presence made me step up my game...always when company comes.

And those two women became adopted by our family.  They attended Easter parties, Christmas Eve and sometimes Christmas Dinner, sporting events and cheerleading events, they were an extended part of our family. 

The Colonel was always sure to tell our daughter, at any time, "keep your shit together and do not let a man screw it up for you."  I loved it when she told her this.  

One of the most fun evenings we ever had involved several ladies on my back porch, several bottles of wine and a 4:30am confession from the Colonel, "at my funeral, I want "I am Women" played at my funeral.  When that casket comes rolling down the aisle, I want it blaring."

The years went by then the aging process stepped in.  At first it was just a "step" and then it became more of a "leap" and the decision was made for my friends to move to Tennessee to assisted living.

I understood the need and the decision, I just didn't want it to happen. 

About 30 days after my friends made it back it to the Colonel's home state of Tennessee, she passed.

While it was not a surprise, my heart was broken.

Last Monday, I attended her celebration of life in a tiny country church in Tennessee.  Sadly, I have attended several Celebrations of Life lately, but I am not sure if I ever have or ever will again experience what did in that humble country Church.

There were several women in attendance, mostly retired Colonels from the US Marine Corp, a Marine Corp Chaplain, elderly people who traveled over eight hours and dear old friends.

It was explained that my friend, during her tenure as Colonel, was a teacher, who instructed other females on how to become Colonels.  I listened to these stories about how these women were intimidated by my friend and they were scared of her, until they met her.  

I wondered if "in this class, there were ever questions like, "does this uniform make my hips look big" or "what color lipstick should I wear?"

Every one of these women explained that while they were initially intimidated by her, not only was she a fabulous leader, mentor, teacher, ground breaker but most importantly, a friend.

They smiled when they spoke about her, these women spoke with conviction about friendship, they spoke with strength about the importance of women in the Marine Corp, the Marine Corp and the bond they all have.  It was inspirational.  They may not have had friendship bracelets from the ERAS tour, they had ranks.

Finally, at the gravesite, a lady read a poem, it moved me.  The poem was about not just about being a Marine, but being a Lady Marine...filled with dignity, grace and friendship.

There is nothing stronger than the bond of friendship...girlfriends, sisters, mothers and grandmothers.  I cannot imagine the bond these ladies have.  Not had, have.  It will always have. 

As we ate the best green beans ever and other homemade southern cooking, the CD was turned on and Helen Reddy serenaded us, "yes I'm wise, but it's wisdom born of pain, yes I paid the price, but look how much I've gained, If I have to, I can do anything...I am strong, I am invincible, I am woman. " 

Here's to girlfriends, even if they are unlikely and here's to Helen and the Colonel.

 

Three hundred and sixty five days of learning...Life after your mom passes.

 Three hundred, sixty-five days today, my mom passed away after a heroic, vicious battle with ALS. 

 I was in the car, driving back to Florida to be with her when I got a text..."she passed."

And just like that, life changed.  I called my brother from the car and then had my moment.  Or maybe two moments. 

Days before, I squeezed her little hand and told her thank you for being our mom. It was sunrise and there was this warm glow in the room.  It was quiet and peaceful  I squeezed but she could not squeeze back.  

As I squeezed her hand and rubbed her head, I prayed God would free her from pain and this monster called ALS. 

When she was diagnosed on July 12, 2021, none of us were prepared for the beast, ALS.

When I got on the plane that morning, I rested my head on the window of the plane and silent tears fell.  I prayed some more.  I wanted my mom to be free.  And at peace.

Now she was.

I turned my car around in a church parking lot. I called my husband.  

Then, I called the funeral home.  Ironically, they told me that my mom would be flying back to Pennsylvania on an Amazon plane, filled with Christmas presents.  You will never know how fitting that was for her.  

 I cried in my car.   I looked at the sky and turned the car ignition back on. 

I was going back home and my daughter would be there.  I was sucking it up.  I had not seen my daughter in months and I wanted her to have a great homecoming. 

I promised myself that day in the car, that I would mentally spend at least five minutes daily with my mom. And reflect.

My mom, like every mother on this planet said often and with venom, "You are going to appreciate me when I am gone."

In those 365 days of daily reflection, here is what I learned or had reinforced.  (in no particular order)

1.  Spend your money on good shoes, good sheets, bras and frying pans.  Period.  These are the things you cannot skimp on.  My bras cost me more than a set of tires and they are worth it. My mom loved a "good set of sheets".  She turned her nose up at the hospital bed sheets and it made me laugh.  I knew exactly what she was thinking. 

2.  Call somebody.  Don't text.  Call.  Talk.  My mom was nonverbal for over a year.  God does have a sense of humor but what I wouldn't do for one more conversation with my mom.  So, make the call.  It does matter. Tonality changes everything. 

3.  Whenever my brother or I would have a "moment" when we were feeling sorry for ourselves for whatever reason, regardless of our ages...my mom would say in a real mom like voice, "Are we having a pity party, are people coming over, should I bake cookies, appetizers?  Let me know how many people to expect." 

 We hated that so much. Her anit-pity party attitude had a huge affect on me and my brother.

I was a senior in high school, days away from the senior prom, where people went with people, never stag, and I didn't have a date.  Worse than that, my bestie did not have a date and I knew she was prom queen because I helped to count the votes.  I had to call and tell her mom to get her a date, which she did...but...still no date for me.  I was sitting in my mom's "chair" while she was on the phone with a girlfriend...and she says so I can hear, "I have to get off the phone...My daughter is dateless for the Senior Prom and i have to get ready for her Pity party today".  Oh, I wanted step on her foot so very hard at that moment.  She comes over and says, "Get over it.  It will work out or it will not.  Either way, you will be okay.  It will be okay.  This is not the worst thing that will ever happen to you, although it does seem " Two days later, my friend came up to me and said/asked "since you do not have a date, and I do not have a date, let's go to the prom together."  We had a blast.  Best Prom Date ever.  My mom was correct. 

I have looked at her situation with ALS, nonverbal, immobile, could not eat or swallow, these three things for a year.  She didn't feel sorry for herself. She was pissed but she never had a pity party.   Nobody comes anyway. 

About six months before my mom passed, a few friends came to visit her.  Remember, my mom was nonverbal.  These friends commented on "how pleasant my mom was".  After they left, I commented to my mom about how her friends thought she was so pleasant.  My mom reached for the pad and wrote, "I am only nice cause I cannot talk.  If I could talk they would know how pissed off I was that I had ALS".  I laughed.  I laughed so hard. She never complained.  We never had the pity party.

3.  Send cards.  Birthday cards, 'No real reason cards", anniversary cards.  Just send the darn cards.  Let people know you care.  Send cards.  They are the only good things that come in the mail.  Won't be hard to spread sunshine.

So funny, mom loved sending and receiving Christmas cards.  When she could no longer use her arms, she was not going to send the Christmas cards.  I told her "No way.  If you don't send a card, folks will think you died, not knowing she had been diagnosed.  I will write a letter for you to insert inside your card."  She did it.  At her celebration, a lady came up to me and told me that she always loved getting a card from her at Christmas.  She said, if she had not received the card, she would have known something was seriously wrong.  When she read the letter, she knew it would be the last card she ever got from her.  The card made her step up as a friend.  

4.  Write down recipes.  Don't text them or email them, write them down.  The value is immeasurable.   I have a box of recipes, all hand written, from my great grandmother, mamaw, Aunt Judy, Mona and my mom.  There is batter splattered on some, my mamaw drew pictures on one and my great grandmother just wrote "throw in salt, add a couple eggs and add more sugar if you want".  I laugh every time I make those recipes.  I "feel" them. 

5.  Wrap gifts.  Forget the bags whenever possible.  Wrap the gifts.  Use real ribbon whenever possible.  The presentation sells the gift. 

6.  Even though your family is flawed, love your family.  You are also flawed.  Love them.  We all have a nut job in the family, make them "your little nut job."  And laugh with them.  Love your family and stand up for them when they need you too.  

7.  Sometimes you have to do things you do not want to, do not like and hope you never have to do again, but you do them because it brings someone joy.  Suck it up and do it if it is going to give someone joy.

8.  You never know when the time will come that it will be the last time you can do something.  So, whatever it is you love, find the time, make the time and enjoy the time.  My mom said her biggest regret was not knowing that the last time she played golf, she didn't know it was her last time. Enjoy it whatever it is, like it is your last time.

9. Just because you cannot speak, your eyes can usually tell what you are thinking. 

10.  My mom always told me, "If you ever have a son, or a husband (she was convinced neither would ever happen for me) and they start talking about their feelings, shut up.  For Goodness' sake, let them talk...and listen.  They usually will talk when the lights are off.  Let them talk, do not talk and listen."  My mom and I had great talks the last year.  She could not say anything, she just listened and she would write on word comments for me to take with me..."Ridiculous", "non-productive" and "idiot" were my favorite take aways.  She listened.  

11.  When just about everything else has been taken away, let someone have their dignity.  Make it about them. 

12.  Cookies matter.  Perfectly baked cookies matter. Especially when they are inside a Christmas tin.

13.  I have tried to live my life with "what would Jesus do?".  Now, it is more like "what would Jesus do? and what would my mom think?".  I was faced with situation shortly after mom passed, a situation I never thought I would find myself in and all I could think of was "what would she want me to do?".  When I was certain that I knew, I acted with confidence.  I knew if I had called her and explained the situation to her, she would have known exactly what to do and how to do it.  So crazy, I could hear her telling me what to say, when to say it and nudged me to put my hand on my hip for extra drama.

15.  And finally, my mom always said "I am so proud as a mother that you and your brother have such a great relationship.  It is the thing I am most proud."  My relationship with my brother, I am certain was always based on, "he's a nut job but he is our little nut job".  Now, it means something so different to me.  I am always sad when siblings "don't gel" or "haven't spoken to them for years".  Sad.  And now when I look or hear my brother's voice, I realize this is it...one of us is next...and the "Bahneman, family of 4" will be done.  It is different now.  We have always had a great relationship but now it is different.  It is just us.  I cannot explain it, it is just different.  In a good way but in a finale sort of way.

Like just about everyone I know, I lost a mom.  What I gained by having her as my mom, will always be immeasurable.  I have changed as a mom.  I am a better person.  She would be proud.

And now, the year is up.  I can hear my mom, "did anyone come to that pity party? No.  Get off your ass and move.  Life is too short.  Don't waste time on feeling sorry for yourself, nobody else is."  Damn, still hate hearing this, but I know it is correct.

So, here's to you mom and  to all the other mom's we have lost.  I am up and moving, thinking of you hourly and being the best version of myself (most of the time).

 Thank you for everything mom.

The Monday after Thanksgiving...Bitchy Betty redeems herself

Total transparency, my previous post about Thanksgiving should have been Part One of a Three-part series, inspired by my friend, Joyce/  I forgot to mention this in the previous post.  

Because I didn't paint "Bitchy Betty" in a very positive light in the last post, I decided I would tell something good about her.  

In Western Pennsylvania, the Monday after Thanksgiving is one of the biggest days of the year.  It is opening day of Deer season.  Schools are closed.  Greatest day of absenteeism in the workplace too.  I am not kidding.

Seriously, one of the best days of the year.  Truly, it is the only time of the year that men actually participate in "planning".  Who knew they could decide in menus, departure times, who needs to bring what, etc.  

In our household, my dad left the day after Thanksgiving to go "Deer Hunting".  He left with his dad, a couple hunting buddies, years later, my brother joined the caravan.  These four or five days were celebrated all over by wives in the Commonwealth.

Besides picking out good jigsaw puzzled, "Bitchy Betty" introduced us to Downtown, the Monday after Thanksgiving.

Downtown, meaning Downtown Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  Us meaning me, my mom and brother, my Aunt Judy and my first cousins, Stephen, Jennifer and Janet.

"Bitchy Betty" organized a day for us "Downtown".  In Western Pennsylvania, we use the word "downtown" to describe going into the city or town or village.  We go "downtown."

So, the kids got word that we were going "downtown" not really knowing what that meant but we were excited nonetheless.  Something new.  And Betty B organized it.  Odd because Betty did not like kids.  At all.  She was one of those people who never should have had kids.  Thank goodness she didn't.  Being a mom was not an innate thing with her. And being a grandmother was not at all her thing.  This was the only time she took the initiative to do anything with us.  So unlike my mamaw (my mom's mom).

My Aunt Judy picked us up, and off we went.  We were dressed up, like really dressed up. Stephen had a sports jacket, the girls in nice skirts and sweaters (adorned with holiday pins, presents with red ribbons) and our hair looked amazing.  We picked "BB" up and off we went, downtown.

I distinctly remember going and parking the car and taking the bus Downtown.

We got off the bus in front of Kaufmann's Department store and the holiday windows.  Now please understand, Kaufmann's was almost a verb.  "I need to Kaufmann" or translation, "I need to get to Kaufmanns."  Kaufmanns was the most gorgeous store ever, with a great restaurant inside, The Tick Tock.  If you counted the hours I spent in Kaufmann's s as a kid or young adult, i bet it would be decades.  My mom had a love affair with Kaufmann's, and we only shopped at the Monroeville store (or later Westmoreland Mall store).  To be "downtown" in the mothership was awe inspiring.  We should have checked her pulse and my Aunt Judy's too.

 To this very day, we still open Christmas gifts in Kaufmann's boxes.  We covet them.

Kaufmanns "downtown" was famous for its clock on the corner of the outside of the store.

  

At the Kaufmann's window, KDKA Radio was broadcasting live, the annual Children's

Hospital Drive.  I can still see Jack Bogut in the window, huge headphones, the call letters on the microphone, the clocks, it was amazing. I honestly think it was the trip that made me want

to work at a radio station. We watched in amazement.  The radio station we listened to in the morning was right there in front of us.  We stayed long enough to hear the " Start your heart, eat a Farkleberry tart and tear the world apart, Farkleberry, Farkleberry".  If you purchased a farkleberry tart, proceeds went to the hospital.  My dad thought this little jingle as amazing. You could purchase the little tarts and then they came out with the turkey.  My dad was all about the turkey.  Standing there in front of the window, watching and listening was no doubt the coolest thing that had happened in my nine-year-old life. 

We listened to KDKA all day, every day.  We laid in bed as a family listening intently to hear our school district called for snow delays and closings. We listened to Pittsburgh Pirate games, and we could sing the jingle, K-D-K-A Pittsburgh, 1020...can still hear it coming from the radio above my parents' bed.  Seeing what we heard come to life was so cool.

Until we walked INSIDE of Kaufmann's. Inside this department store, it was a cross between Disney, Stephen Spielberg and Willy Wonka magic. The store smelled like Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, the chandeliers look like something from Disney and the escalator floated. It was all magical.  

On the first floor, there were two things I remember, the makeup/perfume department and on the other side, this confectionary department.  They had the most beautiful chocolate covered apples and pretzels and orange slices.  Everything was lovely.

 We went up the escalator to the restaurant.  We stood in line, and they called our name.  We entered this huge restaurant with enormous chandeliers, round tables with centerpieces and tablecloths.

At your place setting, there was a paper placemat, which also served as the menu.  The menu was list as Rudolph, Dasher, Dancer, Donner, Blitzen, Prancer, Vixen, Comet and Cupid.

Each Reindeer name was a different item.  

I remember the very first time the waitress asked me, I sat up straight, perfect posture, and said "I will have the Rudolph" like I was somebody.  I was.  I had a gold holiday pin on my sweater, my hair looked great, my legs were together under the table, and I was having the Rudolph in a grand ballroom.  It did like the ballroom from the movie Titantic.

We ate our lunch and went to another floor.

What happened on whatever floor it was, was the coolest. We walked in and there was this giant Christmas tree, perfectly and precisely decorated. But this Christmas tree, she spoke to you.  She asked your name, what you wanted from Santa, where we were from, a whole conversation.  Amazing. We were all enthralled.

After speaking to the Christmas tree, we left and took a streetcar to either Gimbels or Hornes Department store.  I am not sure which one. Gimbels was famous for the outside Christmas Tree on the corner of the store.  Again, we looked at all of the store windows that told a story.  I do remember the 12 Days of Christmas group of windows that were amazing.

Inside the store, a Holiday Sophistication that was something five young kids from Delmont, Pennsylvania had never experienced.

Up the elevator we went to the "Christmas Floor".  As the elevator opened, it was a black room with white amusements, like a Ferris wheel that was white, puffy clouds hanging from the ceiling, an amazing Santa Claus and everyone involved was dressed like the most adorable elf.  We rode the amusements, sat on the lap of the perfect Santa Claus and then we entered the "shopping hall".

Inside the shopping hall, you decided whom you were purchasing for, it checked on a paper ticket, your cash went into the envelope, it was all pinned on you with your name, and we (the three oldest) were allowed to go into a room BY OURSELVES AND SHOP!  Glorious!  We shopped by ourselves!  We bought for aunts and uncles and learned that giving was fun.  

The younger kids had to have "helpers" aka elves but not us...after we purchased our gifts, we took them to the wrapping center, and they wrapped our gifts.  While we waited, we had hot chocolate...like we were at happy hour without our folks.  It was so cool.  We loved it.

And finally, we made the trip to the last remaining department store, with our shopping bags filled with treasures we had picked out.

The last windows were amazing too.  They entertained us and we were starting to drag.

We got on the bus and made our way back to our car.

There were so many things about being Downtown that day.  Everything was huge, lovely and perfect.  It was so sophisticated, so festive and so magical.

We did this trip a few times.  The first one is always the best.  I never ordered anything from the menu besides the Rudolph.  My cousin Stephen opted out for hunting, Todd soon went hunting too and the trip fizzled out.

What didn't fizzle out was the magic of opening day of deer season.  My mom and I would carry their bags through 12 feet of snow, barefooted, if we had too, to get them to leave.

Not hating on men, but there is something just as magical as a chandelier, when the men leave for a few days.  My mom and I ate Lady Borden's Bing Cherry Ice-cream for dinner one night.  You know why?  "Because we can".  That's what my mom said.  I slept in bed with her.  The house stayed clean, and we "ripped" (shopped, we called shopping, ripping) and had the best, laid back time. 

When I think back on those days, I smile.  Honestly, that was shopping.  It was the best.  Makes me sad that boxes are delivered to your door, and you retrieve them in your bathrobe. As I am writing this, my daughter texts me her Christmas list, via Amazon.  Gag me.  So tired of looking at Jeff Bezo's girlfriend on his yacht, all toned in the two piece.   

And her is her Christmas list, you click it and add it to the cart, and it comes to your door. 

Oh Addie, we could have had the Rudolph together. 

My Thanksgiving Journey

 

Thanksgiving is approaching.  

I am cheering for Thanksgiving.  It is the "forgotten" holiday lately.

Funny, I was never a fan of Thanksgiving.  Not because I favor underdogs, but I am cheering on Thanksgiving.  

No judgement here, want to put a tree up in July, your house, enjoy it.

But I just think we have kicked Thanksgiving to the curb.

When I was a young girl, it was without question, the worst holiday in our home.  I have written about it several times.  Trust me, we had so much to be thankful for but it was the day.

Thanksgiving was the ONLY holiday we spent with my dad's side of the family.  We barely made it through that one day.

Here's the Reader's Digest version, our "step grandmother was a career woman (back when women her age were not), she NEVER stopped talking, she didn't like kids, she was not a homemaker, she was bitchy and she could not cook or bake.

Our other grandmother was funny as hell, was a fabulous baker and cook, (my great grandmother as well) loved kids, and her house was clean.  Even though we ate in the basement at her house, the basement was immaculate.

My dad would leave the house early to "drive deer". In later years, he would take Todd with him.

If my mom said be home at 10am, they routinely would be home at 11:30am.  This no doubt started a huge argument.  Funny thing is, these were my dad's parents and even he didn't want to be there. 

So the guys would get home late, have to shower and we would "be behind schedule".  So ironic now looking back, and I will get to why it is ironic.

Then, on the twenty-minute drive to the grandparent's home, my dad would totally continue to push my mom over the edge by doing things like going down the highway, opening his door while driving 55 MPH and spitting his tobacco juice.  I can hear her now yelling at him.  And of course, we could never go directly there.  We had to go on a back road because he "a 10 pointer at the edge of the woods" and as we approached the spot, he would always say "no talking, you will scare him."  My mom never understood that was his way of getting to stop talking.

It didn't matter if I was 8 or 18, as we made this journey together in the car, knowing the final destination, my butt cheeks would tighten and I would be so stressed out knowing that my cousins were at my mamaw's having fun an eating good food and I would be entering the "geriatric Twilight Zone" with shitty food.

We never knew that cast of characters.  Jack and Dorothy (we loved Dorothy, Jack was a couple notches up from Walter Matthau, and were my dad's aunt and uncle), Roz, who was maybe two years older than me, graduated college at 18 and was some nuclear something and we had ZERO in common, Peg (who totally understood that I was miserable being there and why I was miserable) and her dentures that were too big for her mouth and she would smack them when she spoke...seriously can still hear that sound 50 years later and some other cameo appearance guests.

I would say hello, heard how tall I had gotten or grown up and beeline to the back bedroom to build a jigsaw puzzle.  I spent the entire day in the back bedroom listening to at least seven people with hearing challenges trying to converse.  I will give Betty (the bitchy grandmother) credit, she always bought great jigsaw puzzles.

My mom would always say on the way over there, "I can promise you this, when we walk in, you will not smell turkey because it will not even be in the oven yet. She says we are eating and 4, who wants to take bets?  I am betting on 7".  But we had to be on time.  The irony.

The dining room table always looked like a photo from Southern Living, maybe even cover worthy.  But, as my dad would say "yeah, but the food sucks."

The room was too small and crammed and she crammed us all in there and whenever anybody cut their food, the whole table and chandelier would shake and you could actually see the crystals on the chandelier hitting one another.  I used to cut food just to see this.

Above our dinner plates, were the salad plates, with wilted lettuce with a green jello salad on it with carrots in it.  I swear on my kids, I NEVER, EVER, ate that salad.  Because it was my job to clear the dishes afterward, trust me, I was not alone.  I know to this day if you were to mention green jello salad with carrots, my brother would instantly shake his head and go back in time to Bert Drive.

The dinner deadline always came and went.  The turkey was never done in time.  I know my mom went in to that kitchen and turned that oven up at least three times while we were there.

They always played cards and Uncle Jack would always lose and yell.  Betty always served this Chinese noodles as a snack (that I have never seen again in my life) and you could hear her chewing and Peg's dentures beating down on them.

When it was time to leave, we always passed on leftovers.  Always.  My mom had a turkey and stuffing that she made while my dad and Todd were in the woods.

The two redeeming things of the day, great jigsaw puzzle (which I always completed) and the Islay's vanilla ice-cream squares with the chocolate turkey in the center (do they even make those anymore?  loved them)

As years passed, I would hear others talk about Thanksgiving and how it was their favorite holiday, and they would go on and on and I swear I would just sit there and wonder what was wrong with them.  If my Thanksgiving was like this growing up, wasn't everybody's?

So, I marry my husband who loves Thanksgiving.  Seriously, we are total opposites. Every year as the holiday approached, there was conversation about the day.  No real traditions.  My dad was an only child and my mom one of three...we were a more condensed family.  Easy to manage and plan.  My husband, one of nine.  Not as easy to organize.  

So, I took the bull by the horns and begrudgingly started our Thanksgiving traditions.

And it wasn't always easy.  We had a couple rough years there for a while (summer camp) but we did it.  My sister-in-law would come, and we did parades and Flotillas.  But a funny thing happened, kids started to have jobs, sports, college, and the whole circle of life thing happened, and the traditions changed again.

One year, when I was really on a mission to have a great Thanksgiving, I bought some turkey dishes at Ross.

I don't know why, I just did.  And occasionally, I would find these plates or salad plates at Marshalls or TJ MAX, and I added to the collection.

A few months ago, Walker mentioned that when I pass, he would like those dishes.  OMG.  I felt like I had accomplished something.  He wanted the turkey dishes.  Bonus.  I shopped on every app like Poshmark or Mercari trying to find extra pieces.  I was so happy.  Wow, a man wanting dishes.  Who knew?

Maybe Bitchy Betty had it right all along.  Maybe it was the table setting.  Or maybe, just like the green jello salad or the Islay's turkey, it was something that he remembered about sitting around the table on Thanksgiving at his home.

Honestly, as much as my brother and I loved being with our cousins and awesome grandparents, we don't have the stories to tell like we do from the one day of the year that haunted us for a whole year afterward.

I think for women, it is everything leading up to the big days that makes us crazy and thrive.  New dishes, a tablecloth, wreath, recipe, guest, the perfect wrapping paper and ribbon, whatever it is, that is part of the magic of the holiday.  And when it finally gets here, we just want peace and to relax and chill with the magic.  But maybe the magic can be as simple as a slab of vanilla ice-cream with a chocolate turkey in it. (searched for hours to find an image of this)

My mom always taught us to invite anyone or everyone that you know, who doesn't have a table to sit at, to be at your table.  Over the years, one of our traditions has been to invite those who do not have a table to go to.  But this year, as folks age or have children and grandchildren, whatever the reason, it is just us.  (plus, Steve).

"Mom, you still need a tablecloth on the table", I was reminded. I guess she noticed that was the only day we used a tablecloth.

As I watch Christmas decorations go up and people posting about putting up their Christmas trees, I just want to sit with my pumpkin spice candles burning and say "chill, Christmas will still be there. Let's celebrate the Mayflower. 

Two of my kids will be at the table, fresh from college with tons of dirty laundry, my husband is well, my other child is well and thriving.  The sun still sets and comes up again.  When there is darkness, the light comes.  We have a baby coming to our family, a wedding and a graduation.  Lots to look forward to and celebrate.

Let us be thankful. 

 As I was writing, it popped into my head that there was a journey on a ship to another country that gave us Thanksgiving.  It was a journey on a donkey that gave us Christmas.

I just rode in my car to Ross to get my new beginning.  Let us be Thankful. 

Falling Leaves and Tears

 As long as I live, I will always consider Pennsylvania my home. I am a Westmoreland County girl who bleeds back and gold and as much as I love Coastal Carolina, during October, I miss home.

Fall makes me homesick.   And this year, it is even worse.  I felt like my mother was calling. 

When we were kids, we were bundled up at the bus stop in the morning but ripping our jackets off, running home, to be outside and play before the sun went down.  

I would sit in school and watch the leaves fall with a smile.  My mom would pack soup in our thermoses and molasses cookies.  Fall.

On Sundays, my mom would slide that pork roast into the oven, then we went to church, and had to be home before Steeler Kick-Off.  Pork roast, sauerkraut and mashed potatoes, our Sunday staple.  Some days, we went and picked up leaves, perfect leaves, in assorted colors and then come home and press them in wax paper.  I loved that smell.  My mom would let the wax soak in and then trim them neatly and use as decorations.  I loved those days.  

I would crack my bedroom window open at night so my pillow would get super cold and it was the best sleep ever.

My brother and I rocked the Delmont Halloween Parade.  My mom, with the help of my mamaw, would make our costumes.  One year I was Santa and my brother an Elf.  So cute.

Another year, Jolly Green Giant and Todd was Little Sprout.  

My personal favorite was me as Pinocchio and Todd, Jiminy Cricket.  

We won three consecutive years.

Nothing screamed success like a Five-dollar bill and a cup of warm apple cider as the winners of the parade.

 On Halloween my dad would put about 12 kids in the back of the Ford Truck as we went all through Bel Aire Manor dragging our pillowcases.  

I can still see my mom on the floor in the family room, digging through the candy.  Ironically, her favorite candy, they were always the ones that were opened and "Not safe to eat."

My dad would grab Milk Duds when possible.

Truly, one of the greatest nights of the year.

Halloween also signals the end of October, Thanksgiving, hunting season and Christmas were right around the corner.

When my kids were little, we always had a "Fall Trip" to the north.  Hayrides in Maryland, Pumpkin Farms and Corn Mazes, Hershey Park and even Gettysburg.  We loved those trips.

Last weekend, I made the trip to my college alma mater, West Virginia University, to see my son and some of my dear friends from WVU for Homecoming.  

As I drove from North Carolina thru West Virginia, I loved looking at the foliage. Gorgeous.

I couldn't help but be melancholy...  This no doubt was going to be my last WVU football game for a long time. Walker will be graduating so I need to get to Knoxville more next year. The trips back to Pennsylvania, in the next couple years, could be counted on one hand.  

Things were changing.  My mom was gone, and my stepfather has moved on.  Walker will be graduating and starting his journey.  Only my lovely Aunt Judy and two cousins were left back in Pennsylvania.  It was all different now. So very different.  Years had turned into decades and while it seemed like yesterday, we were having a Halloween Party at Delmont Elementary School or I was partying like rockstar at WVU, my favorite month was breaking my heart. 

Seriously, my mom was just on her hands and knees separating candy and then hiding it so we would only eat one piece per day and now she was a permanent fixture in the Twin Valley Memorial Cemetary.  

I enjoyed the weekend immensely, time with my son, best friend and her family and the same old stories came up again with the same laughs.  A great time was had by all.

On the way home on Sunday, my GPS took me on a road that was out of the world.  The leaves, the wind, the mountains, it didn't any better until I rounded a corner and was greeted by immense Wind Turbines (my family is obsessed with them). The sun was trying to come out with a million colors in the background.  

I needed to pee (what else is new) and I found this adorable little roadside stand.  I went inside and was overwhelmed with the smell of freshly perked coffee.  I made my coffee and saw Amanda come out of the kitchen with 12 warm apple fritters in wax paper. (I love wax paper).

I decided to live on the edge and order an apple fritter.  Seriously, seriously, it was so delicious. I ate it in my car and would have loved to go back in and order several more.  My mamaw would have loved these.  

Instead of being melancholy, I became happy.  Certainly, happy that I was seeing this amazing sight but also feeling very blessed about the future, my niece is expecting the first baby in the family and the shower is this weekend.  We are so excited.  The circle of life.  

My accent will never become one of a Southern Belle and I will never swap out my black and gold for any other colors, but it did "hit me" that my Pennsylvania roots were becoming very distant memories.  My cousin and I had just had a conversation about how there were just a few of us who really remembered "those good old days."  I guess it is not the amount of people who remembered them, but the quality of the memories. 

 As I came down and around the mountains and into city traffic, reality set into my heart. My mom's passing has had a profound impact on me. I never wanted to be the matriarch in our tiny family, for obvious reasons.  And yet, here I was.  Maybe the reason the memories were so crisp is because they were so important.  There was so much love in all those memories.  It was my task to make sure it was all repeated.  

I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the mountains, mighty and lovely.  I looked in front of me and saw the flat road. My home was in front of me.  My memories were behind me.  

I still love falling leaves.  No matter where I am. 

The "Real Life " Drop off, Not the Cinematic Drop off.

 Two years ago (and 4 days), we dropped our "baby girl" off at Greir Hall at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville.  I don't know what I expected, a warm embrace filled with "I love you, let your personality shine and make good choices" uttered in her ear, with a group picture but what I expected and what we got were two different stories.

So, this blog serves as an ALERT TO ALL PARENTS OF DAUGHTERS DURING COLLEGE DROP OFFS and please do not pass judgement on my family.

The weeks before drop off day, I noticed one thing.... Amazon Boxes.   You would have thought it was early December.  But my daughter was in control, focused and organized.  (a sentence I will never write about the males in my family).  Anyway, those boxes were filled with hangers, shelves on wheels, art, who knows.  She was on a mission.  

As we planned the drop off, I informed them that we were stopping overnight in Asheville for dinner at the Grove Park Inn and then a morning tour of the Biltmore and then on to Knoxville later in the day.  All was good.  

Have you ever heard the expression, "ten pounds of sugar in a five-pound bag?"  That is what our car looked like the night before we left.  It was crammed.  Crammed.  With what, I am not all together certain, but it was crammed.  

We got up the next morning on time, I did not have to throw a "mom fit" about getting out of bed on time and I felt set up for success.  

Two men in the front, my daughter on the driver's side of the car (which really taunts my left-handed dominance, but I let it go) and me on the passenger's side with a plastic white laundry basket on my lap with no vision whatsoever and a case of waters between Addie and me that made more noise than the ERAS tour.

Please note, in my older years, I have developed a pretty bad case of anxiety in the car when others drive.  It is not because I am not driving, it is because I spend more time looking at the road than the driver.  I am a wreck.  So, I set in the backseat to spare us all.  Now with a plastic trash can on my lap, with limited vision, I was not as bad as I usually can be.  There were still several gasps, "WATCH" (that infuriates my husband) and reaching for anything above my head and pressing the imaginary brake.  I am a real joy in the car.

Grove Park in, SUCCESS.  Dinner, Success.  Biltmore, Success, I was winning the drop off at this point.

We rolled into Knoxville in plenty of time and sunshine and decided to take a quick tour.  Three of us had never been to Knoxville.  (That is another blog).  Anyway, nice city, big city and I did begin to get a little nervous.  This was a city. We live in a tiny town.  Only traffic is beach traffic...mini vans and Jeep Wranglers but I kept it together.  I did notice that Addie had that look of "I don't remember any of this" but she stayed calm.  It was a city.  No campus. And then we saw 14,000 little cheerleaders coming out of a building.  It was the national little cheerleading competition weekend.

We check in at the hotel.  All those little cheerleaders, fifty-dollar hair bows and all, along with the parents, were at the hotel.  

Walker wanted to work out, dad wanted a nap.  The "my daughter is really possessed by the devil side came out" because she could not believe her dad wanted a nap or Walker wanted to move his body.  I calm her down and say, "let's make the last trip to Wal-Mart and get out of here."

This is where I started to lose the drop off.

Not sure why or how, but my kids have always been fascinated or intrigued by homeless people or as they called them, hobos.  Since they were little.  We would drive through or around a city and they were on "hobo watch."  No judging.

We pull into the shabby looking Wal-Mart and of course, the first thing she sees, a female hobo.  "I have made a mistake.  I cannot go to school here.  They have hobos.  I am not staying here."

"Addie, there are homeless in Cedar Point, NC.  You are going to school here.  Relax."

We walk into Wal-Mart and when those doors opened up, I became the world's least intelligent person.

"Get your list out".

"I don't need a list, nobody has a list, I know what I need."

"Ok, what do you need first?"

"Command strips".

"Ok, I am sure there is a huge center aisle display for Command Strips".

"No mom, there is not."

And so, it goes.

She finds a few things and then runs the cart into the center aisle Command Strip display.  I turned my head and laughed.  She picks what she wants and says, "are you going to get me snacks like you did Walker?"

Of course, I was but what I didn't know walking into Wal-Mart, all of the schools were starting on Monday.  High schools, middle, elementary, day cares and a huge university were all starting on Monday.  This Wal-Mart looked like Eastern NC when we get a hurricane.

So, I say, "want some bananas and peanut butter?"

My daughter eats peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon, tons of it.  She lived on bananas as a child.  

Her response, "No I hate bananas and really hate peanut butter.  What is wrong with you mom?"

"Well, what is it that you would like to eat?"

"I don't know.  I just need you to leave me alone because you are rushing me".

I whipped out my debit card, gave her the limit and said, "shop away."

I walked out to the car, happy as a clam that I was relieved of duty.

I move the car closer to the entrance and see her coming. She had to wheel past the hobo and I am sorry but I am slapping the steering wheel while I was laughing  I got out of the car and helped her load and I peeked into one of the bags to see water, peanut butter and bananas.

When we get into the car, i notice that she has a large stash of cash.  "OMG, what are you doing with all that cash, we need to get it into your account"...you know the rant.

So, on the way back to the hotel, we pass her bank...and I pull in. The ATM was in front of the bank...where, there was a van parked, filled with landscape employees, and one of the employees was making a transaction.

She freaks.  "They are going to rob us. I am not putting my money in the bank.  They need to leave, blah, blah, blah."

So, we wait until they have driven home and showered (I swear it felt that long) and finally she deposits her cash.

Back to the hotel.  

As we pull in, one of the mini cheerleader dads is standing outside his minivan smoking a joint.  (I seriously was ready to ask him for a hit).

Anyway, she sees him and loses it because she is now convinced that Dope Smoking Dad is going to break into our car and take the plastic trash can with 2 -24 packs of water and some fruit snacks.  I tell her to relax and let's go eat dinner.

We get to the hotel and the fellows are ready to eat.  I announce that we are walking to dinner.  Walking being the key word.  Walking, imagine walking after a three-hour car ride?  Walking.  Two blocks.

She went crazy, crazy the entire time we walked to the restaurant.  

After dinner, the two asked if they could take the car and explore.  As I ordered another cocktail, we said, "Of course."

They left; we ordered cocktails.

We go back to the hotel, and they pull in.

They were so excited.  They found the campus.  Euphoric.  I had euphoric kids.

We locked our car to prevent Dope Smoking Dad from breaking in for the coveted trash can and retired for the night.  

I had rebounded and was winning the drop off again. 

We woke up for the big move in day. 

We were scheduled to move in at 10am.  

We leave the hotel.  As we approach our destination, my husband decides to pull over for a cup of coffee and Walker needs to use the bathroom.  They leave the car...she loses it.  (This time I kind of got it.)

They come back to the car, and she is hot.  Addie is really hot.  And it is now a few minutes after ten and she really thinks that they are not going to let her move in because we are late.

As we turn the corner to her dorm, the traffic jam was like we were living in NYC.

Seriously, a five hour back up.  The stress in the car was immense.  Nobody would speak.  My butt cheeks were so tense I could have opened a coke bottle with them.

I could not take it anymore, so I got out of the car and started walking toward the dorm to see what we needed to do. It was Africa hot outside the car.  I was sweating but smiling at the same time.

There were minivans, trucks and SUV packed to the prim.  Unreal, the scene was unreal.  I discovered what we needed to do and where we needed to be and returned to the car. 

I could tell when I got in that there had been a serious meltdown.  So, I glad I was just a victim of swamp ass and not the wrath of my daughter.

We arrive.  It seemed like a mirage for a while, but we arrived.  

We get out, I follow the signs, and was told I had to give my driver's license to get one of the big rolling boxes to carry all of our stuff. Side note, could not believe that I had to give my license for the rolling box that is bigger than our car...like how do you steal those?

We fill the rolling box and our ready to enter the dorm when the precious little Volunteer tells out that our move in time (totally different than check in time) is 3pm and we will have to broil in the sun with our contents until 3p.  It is 11am.  

I kindly tell her that there is NO way that will happen because we had to drive 9 hours home, so we could get other student to school the next day.

She agreed to let us go up the elevator.

We are like pack mules, but we find her room.  She picks her side, and the process begins.  In the room there is the mini fridge, so I reach down, plug it in and move it in front of the plug.

"Why did you move that fridge there? (With an icy edge to her voice)

"Because it has a special plug to make it cold and that is where the plug is".

"I don't want it there."

"Well, you don't have a choice" as I load waters into the fridge.

'Unplug it, I don't want it there."

I turn around to just lose it on her when I notice that the special bag of hangers, the bag ripped and there are 100 hangers laying all over this tiny room.

I reach down to pick up the hangers to prevent the ER visit and again, "what are you doing with the hangers?"

"Picking them up off the floor because right now they are layers and not hangers."  (I seriously thought this was one of the wittiest things I had ever said.  Nobody else got it.

"Mom, just stop, stop mom."

I wanted to reach for her but her brother, who had spent 10 minutes trying to get the Command strip placed EXACTLY where she wanted, thought he was finally victorious, when she said she wanted it moved a centimeter. 

That was it for me.  I grabbed my phone, a water and went out to the lobby to sit.  I was done.  I was either going to be done or push her out the little window in her room that overlooked a frat house.  Great, just great.  A frat house below her window.  

I sat there for about twenty minutes when the next victim, her dad, came down the hall.  I looked at him and laughed.  "Want a seat?'

"She's a hot mess", he said.

"Let's go eat lunch, say our goodbyes and get out of here".

"I will go get them" and he started down the hall.

We settled on Mellow Mushroom.  It was during this lunch that she confessed she was stressed out because she didn't know what position she should be in when her roommate arrived.  

We were confused by this.  "What do you mean by position?"

"I don't know how I should be laying on the bed?"

After we finished cracking up and regained our composure, she said she didn't get it.

"Addie, when you roommate comes to the door, aren't you going to get up and go to the door and open it for her?"

Seriously, we split the atom.

As we left Mellow Mushroom, Walker walks in between us and says, "we are almost there, we can do this".  I cracked up.

We approach the dorm and pull right up in the front and we park and get out.  

This was it, the final moment.

A policeman comes over and says, "sorry, you cannot park here".

We explain that we are dropping her off and this was our goodbye, and we would just be a minute.  He asks if we would like our picture taken together.  (How nice of him)

Of course, we say yes, and we all get close, and he takes the picture.

As Franklin goes back to say thank you and get his phone, my independent, sassy, zesty daughter starts bawling as she hugs her brother and then says, "I have made a mistake, I don't want to go in there, I want to go home".

Walker, who has some big eyes, looks at me with the biggest eyes I have ever seen and whispers, "mom what are you going to do?"

I yell at Franklin to come hug his child, he does, and she is now sobbing hysterically, and I grab her, turn her around to the door and say, "behind that door is a whole new adventure.  you are going to have the adventure."

I 100 percent meant what I said.  I also was 100 percent sure I was not repacking, loading and riding home with her.  No way.  She was staying.

She turned around and went inside.

About an hour later, she called.  She read a letter I had left her with a package, cried, took a nap and woke up cause her roommate called and was arriving a day early.  She was excited.

It was not a Hallmark movie, but I won the drop off.  

It will be what it is supposed to be. Good luck parents and Go VOLS.