I apologize for the crass title. I truly do. Mostly because my Mother, Mother-in-Law, childhood church Minister and his wife read my blog from time to time, I believe. But, there simply is no other phrase more appropriate at this moment in time. Any others offended by my choice of acronyms, I would advise you to stop reading, as you will be more offended by what’s to follow.
I am on a plane as I type on my blackberry. Device in “airplane mode” of course. No real connection to the world below. I am dying right now. Seriously dying.
We packed up the kids in footed pajamas, at 7 a.m., loaded them in our refurbished Toyota Sienna and headed for Newark airport. I am scheduled this weekend to perform in a “Wicked Divas” concert in Fresno, CA because, as you all know, I am a huge Diva. HUGE. (But that’s not the offensive part.)
In 2010, when I agreed to this job, I must have thought that in February 2012 the children would surely be off to college and fully independent. Or possibly at that point, as our move was not yet planned, I thought it would entail a 3 hour drive North, not a cross-country flight. (Yes, the thought of anyone in this family journeying back West at this point is offensive, but still not the reason for the abrasive title.)
An hour ago, my anxiety level reached what I THOUGHT was it’s max, at the fact that not only is my 13 month old still nursing frequently, but she refuses milk products from any spigot other than those of Cafe Mamma. She is cut off for the next 58 hours. Cafe Mamma is temporarily closed for dough making. Good Luck, Daddy and big bro! (Still not the offensive portion of the tale, although describing breasts as “spigots” could be offensive to some, if not just a touch unsettling.)
As I said my goodbyes, walked away from my family, and on to the ticket counter, I thought “Wow. How is Steve going to handle this? How is she? She’s going to think I abandoned her! I might be the worst Mother ever and this will surely affect our relationship throughout her teenage years!”
That was an hour ago, when trivial matters such as starving my child and creating abandonment issues were the most of my worries.
NOW, onto the “WTF” portion.
After getting through Security, I saw I had missed a call from Steve. I quickly called back and got an immediate text response saying, “On the phone.”.
On the phone? Who would he be talking to at 7:30 in the morning? I spiraled down fast, and images I cannot put in writing swarmed the movie in my mind. Hyperventilating by Gate 75 C, I preceded to dial my husband over and over and over and over and over, as airline passengers spun around me in a blur.
Finally, an exasperated Steve answered the 27th call from his Wife.
The kids are fine. Well, more fine than in any of the horrific possibilities conjured by Mommy’s overactive and terrifyingly picturesque imagination.
The last piece of information I got was that my children and Husband were stranded on the side of the road near Newark, NJ (it seems as though everything I say in jest comes true…see previous entry), due to a failed transmission.
I know nothing more. The flight attendants held the doors open as long as they could, while I frantically dialed friends whose number’s Steve does not have, and googled Toyota service centers in our area. Thankfully, the gentleman with the Iphone overheard, and found this information much quicker than I could on my blackberry. (Note to self: buy an Iphone and stop whining about the lack of button keyboard. You’ll get used to it like the rest of the country.)
Before I was forced to shut off my phone, I got a hold of my blessed friend, Erin who lives 10 minutes away. She said “Mamma! You get on that plane. We got this. I love you.”. I pressed and held down the power button and burst into tears.
5 hours and 42 minutes of radio silence remaining….
5 hours and 41…
5 hours and 40……..
This is gonna be a long flight.