Things That Come In Three

My husband is a strong believer of famous people always dying in groups of three. What's funny is that he seems to always be right on mark. I'd call it coincidence if it had happened only a few times, but as circumstance would have it, it comes to fruition every time. Recently it was James Brown, Gerald Ford and finally Saddam Hussein. Our weekend also came with a strange equation that amounted to three.

#1
The first being the strange, but very irritating phone call SD (Super Daddy) picked up at work on Friday. It was by pure chance that he even answered his phone, because calls rarely ever go directly to him, because he is a teacher. It was a parent claiming that she heard from this person's neighbor's son's cousin who went to the party store and over heard from the person buying smack on the corner....Ok, that's an exaggeration, but the way I heard it from SD, she lost her credibility the minute she opened her mouth. Anyway, to make a long,with nails on the chalkboard, story short, she accused SD of pocketing funds from a trip that he puts together for his students. If you know SD, you're already saying," What the @!!!% " This parent insisted that she had seen his W4 and stated the company from which this bonus was given. The name she gave as being on the W4 was not even SD's name and he has never worked for the company that supposedly gave him a bonus. SD was not in a good mood when he came home from work.

Happy Friday!

#2
So, I thought, we could take the kids to play at McDonald's, have dinner and try to unwind. I really dislike fastfood more than you know, but 3 out of four would be getting something out of this trip, I didn't mind the sacrifice. Gabe got wheat free French fries from BK down the street and we were good to go.

It wasn't too crowded and the ages for good play friends had potential. Boo was short on the girl friends, but managed to find a boy to act silly with. Gabe hooked up with a boy who may have been about four who had a sister (twins?) There was giggling, laughter, running and big smiles. I think a big fear for most parents is whether their children will be liked. I worry for both of my children. Not, because they aren't likeable, because I adore and think both are fantastically wonderful, caring, hilarious, and spectacular in their own right. But, you wonder how the rest of the world will perceive them without wearing "mommy glasses".
After coming down the slide, Gabe runs up behind the boy he was playing with and next thing I see is Gabe being clobbered by that same child. Then, Gabe starts pushing back. I immediately yell, "Hey!" "No hitting!" They both stop and we call Gabe over. The other boy's mom never looks up from her book. She was right across from them.
I am furious, but assume it has ended and cross my fingers that Gabe does not go near that boy again. I watch nervously as Gabe climbs back into the play structure. "Rocky Balboa", the offending boy, comes running up behind him, passes him while climbing up and gives a good kick at Gabe's face, intentionally.

Before I know it, my chair squeaks over the greasy floor, I'm up and running, blood pumping through my veins. I could feel my face puff up like the Incredible Hulk. "You stop hitting my son!" I say loud enough for the drive through to hear, pointing my finger at the little monster.
Mom comes over lifts up the boy and I state again, in case she missed it while reading her book, "Your son keeps hitting my son!"
"Well, that's because he was pushing him," she retorts back.
I respond with a mix of anger and sarcasm,"He... Was.... Hitting... Him!" "He's only three!" I feel like I should be wearing a tank top, braless, on a Jerry Springer Stage.
Gabe comes down and starts eating his fries. He looks aware of what happened, but not as aware as my Boo was. We hardly ever yell in our house, so when SD and I raise our voice, it is a big deal. I am amazed at my reaction. Amazed that I have this instinct to squash anyone or anything that may harm my children. I am like a wild momma bear protecting her cubs. Kinda freaky in a way. I think I need to corral my emotions a little and bring it down a notch from Springer to Oprah.
10 minutes later and I wishing that our run of bad luck would end sometime soon, mom comes over with "the boy" and has him apologize. I also have Gabe apologize for pushing. I tell her I appreciate what she did and she smiles and says she is only the babysitter.

Happy Friday .....Again!

#3
Gabe only had a little compliance issue with his tutor Saturday morning, which was totally expected since this is only her second time over our house. I thought, "Whew!" If this is the third thing, well, we made it! This was where I did my happy dance and began to plan the wonderful possibilities for the rest of our weekend. We could turn it around. We still had time. I looked over to where my cat came walking through the kitchen and saw that he was limping. He is an indoor cat, 14 years old, in very good health. So, I thought, maybe he fell off of something. I immediately call our vet, get the last appointment. I wondered how they would put a cast on my little buddy. Could it be arthritis? Osteoporosis? A disjointed hip?
At the vets, they get him on the examination table right away. They observe which leg it was and begin to feel the bones in that leg. My face begins to get hot, the room spins and I feel like laying face first on the cold linoleum before I have the chance to pass out. Instead, I wash out his carrier just to keep from not looking at what they are doing. They decide they need an X-ray.

The X-ray reveals nothing about his leg. All his bones look fine. In fact, perfectly fine. Huh. Then she pulls up the next slide that shows the rest of his body from the side. She says that organs appear white and the lungs black because they are filled with air. Everything looks right to me. What should I be seeing, that I don't?
The lungs had confetti like specks all over them. I thought it was veins, they were tumors. Maybe 20 or more all over his lungs. My beloved pet was dying of Cancer and it had probably spread to his leg.

Happy Saturday.

What was even more....I can't even find the word....was that as I walked out of the examining room with my buddy in his carrier, the receptionist and another worker there were talking about Aspergers and Autism from the "I know someone, who knows someone" tense.
I wanted to shout, "Can you give me one God Damn thing to deal with at a time God? Can ya? Can ya? huh?"
The next day I wondered if God was trying to show me something. Was my cat a metaphor for Gabe's inability to tell me when something was wrong, that he maybe really ill and I would never know? I had dreamed this past week, before all this happened, that Boo died from a tumor. I woke up at 2am that morning afraid to go back to sleep. What did it mean? SD and I joke all the time about me thinking I have a tumor. Oh, I have a bad headache, must be a tumor. But, as I get older, I'm making more connections in life. I see and understand more of life's lessons. I just wish I could pick and choose the lessons I want to learn.