9:15 am - Woke up late. Hear The Other Girl and Mom moving upstairs. Good. Coffee must be ready. Hop up. Gotta hurry. Got a 2.5 hour drive up I-5 to see boyfriend's niece ride in her Equestrian Meet. Mom's gonna love it. I'm excited to see boyfriend's family, and PONIES! I love ponies. Gonna be a great day.
9:30 am - Gulp coffee. Time to shower. Hustle into bathroom. Don't smell right. Spot little brown nuggets of poop in sink. Huh. At least it's next to the toilet and easy to clean up.
9:40 am - Finish scooping poop nuggets out of sink. Turns out toilet paper isn't the best tool for this type of work, gets wet, sticks to fingers along with excrement. Sink and hand scrubbing complete. Shower.
9:55 am - Hop out of shower. Dangit. Wanted to be on the road at 10. Not gonna make it. Action Jackson myself through toweling off. Get dressed. Bustle into bedroom to put on face. Bang into Mom coming out of bedroom, smacking her hands together as if to say "Job well done!" Bedroom don't smell good. Spot poop lumps at her feet. Shit! Literally! Get her out of bedroom without stepping on poop. Walk her upstairs. Tell sister Mom needs to wash her hands. Hurriedly 409 streaks of brown off stair banister. Back into bedroom.
10:10 am - Complete picking up poop pieces. No easy task as carpet is brown and they are everywhere. Numerous mad dashes from bedroom to toilet to complete quest. Each time I think I got it all more tiny treasures spotted in corner, behind furniture. She is quite possibly the best fecal flinger on the planet. Get her trophy for Mother's Day. Back to getting ready.
Can you see the poop on this carpet? No?
Well, neither can I.
10:40 am - Yell up stairs to The Other Girl, "Get Mom bundled up! We gotta go!" Hear them at top of the stairs:
The Other Girl:
"Are you gonna be a grouch all day?"
Mom (irritated):
"Yes!"
Me (in my head):
"Greaaaaaaat."
10:50 am - Pull out of driveway. Finally on our way. Pick up boyfriend from badly needed night out; he crashed on buddy's couch.
12:00 pm - Halfway to our destination. Have made good time (because, FYI.. I drive like a maniac). Stop at McDonald's to use restroom, get burgers. Notice Mom won't take my hand as we walk. In restroom, she snaps "No!" when I ask if she needs to go potty, then proceeds to undo her pants and sit on toilet immediately after I'm done. Okay then.
12:20 pm - Back in the van. Mom is pleased with chocolate milkshake and burger, looks at me, smiles. Good. Maybe she was just hungry. Still have high hopes for the day.
1:30 pm - Arrive at county fairgrounds half hour late. Rain hasn't let up. Wind has picked up. Unknowingly park over large puddle twenty feet from arena doors but takes us twelve minutes to get there. Mom adopts cat-like moves to avoid all ground water - tentative step in one direction, back to original position, cautious step in different direction, back to original position... finally achieve entry. She doesn't want to be here. She again ignores me while simultaneously not letting me out of her sight so she knows where to go. Kind of impressive, actually. Gotta hand it to her, she sure can pout. Get her two trophies for Mother's Day.
1:45 pm - Unbelievably, niece has not yet performed her team drill. We made it! Happy to see everyone. Thrilled that grandparents are there. Hug all family members. Get Mom settled on soft blanket over hard bleacher seat, wrap it around her lap and legs. I know equestrian spectacle will be a hit.
2:15 pm - Equestrian spectacle not a hit. She's cold. Her back hurts. Distract her with introduction to boyfriend's grandparents. She responds to grandpa's easy smile, rewarding him with one of her own. Meets grandma.
Grandma:
'It's nice to meet you! We so enjoy your daughter."
Mom:
(HUGE smile, grasps grandma's hand in appreciation.)
Me:
"She thinks you're talking about her other daughter."
Go to restroom between events. She prefers arm of boyfriend's mom, a virtual stranger, over me. No worries, until we get to restroom. Balks at walking long length of stalls to handicapped toilet. Coax her in. Snaps at me that she doesn't have to pee, then pulls pants down, forgets to pull down underwear. Stop her and get underwear pulled down. She pees out an ocean. Pulls pants up. Forgets to pull up underwear. I pull pants down, pull up underwear. Won't wash her hands. I give up. Allows boyfriend's mom to escort her out.
2:30 pm - Mom, not happy to be back in arena, won't sit down, stands ten feet away. I keep my eye on her, enjoy company of family.
2:45 pm - Mom now trying to catch my eye. I won't look. I know her favorite phrase is on the tip of her tongue, "Come on. Come on now." I'm determined to stay. Boyfriend's niece has one more team drill. Suppose to start at 2:45. Why isn't it starting? When is it starting? FOR THE LOVE OF GAWD START THE DAMN DRILL BEFORE THE OLD LADY MAKES ME LEAVE! Refrain from hollering all this out loud.
2:51 pm - Drill finally starts. Have successfully avoided Mom's gaze. Ready to see niece do her stuff, and more ponies! Love the ponies. Mom, having lost this battle, settles herself next to boyfriend. Avoids me. He wraps her in blanket. Snuggles her. Great boyfriend. Get him trophy for Boyfriend Day.
3:20 pm - Niece has done great! I think. Actually, I have no idea how she's done, but to me she was awesome. Get her trophy for Boyfriend's Niece Day. More riders to perform but can't put Mom off any longer. Say our goodbyes. Mom takes off for the exit in the opposite direction of the exit. Bring her back to say goodbye. Boyfriend's mom walks out with us. Boyfriend hangs behind, gives out hugs to family.
3:25 pm - Like a horse to the barn, Mom senses freedom and picks up the pace to the building exit. Heavy rain outside. I fish out umbrella from purse to cover her. Notice chocolate melted on the underside as it pops open. Mom takes advantage of momentary distraction to break away from both boyfriend's mom and me. Abandons pussyfooting through puddles for new strategy of careening wildly towards first vehicle she sees. We attempt redirection to passenger side of her van. Think we're successful but Mom outsmarts us; veers left to driver's side of SUV next to van. Hefty man inside sees her coming. Panic floods his features. Yell's "No! No!" through closed window. Frantically waves Mom off. Undeterred, Mom opens his door, apparently determined to make the nightly news - "Coming Up Next: World's Oldest Carjacker!" Face to face with the unknown, burly facade she suddenly breaks out in uncontrollable laughter. Boyfriend's mom and I join her. Mom attempts to form an apology. Fails. Backs away from SUV still laughing. The beefy gentleman slams his door shut. I swear I see him mopping cold sweat off his brow. Perhaps this isn't his first encounter with 110-pounds of crazy. No trophy for him, scaredy-cat. Us three ladies, still laughing, get Mom in her own vehicle.
3:30 pm - All final hugs distributed. I get in van. Boyfriend in back seat. Mom at ease in familiar vehicle setting. Waves to family members as we back out of parking spot.
4:30 pm - Rain so hard it's white out conditions on freeway. Going slow. Bored, Mom looks around to backseat, pokes at still wet umbrella. Boyfriend moves to hand it to her.
Boyfriend:
"Uh..."
Me:
"It's just chocolate."
Boyfriend (sniffs at umbrella, makes sour face):
"No. No it's not."
Me (in my head):
"Gawdamnit! I really liked that umbrella!"
6:15 pm - Arrive home. Throw umbrella in trashcan.
8:00 pm - Mom's been Little Miss Funshine since we got home, smiling, playful, saying "Good day!" as if she enjoyed the crap out of herself since she woke up. Tuck Mom in bed. Tell her I love her. She says "Me too you."
Get her third trophy for Mother's Day: Most Precious and Aggravating Mom on the Planet.
Just another day in the life of Stumped Town.
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