After my beloved little petri dishes passed along the viral (“Sorry! There’s not anything we can do for that!”) illness from hell, I’ve been coughing. Enough that I’ve lost my voice completely.
Shut up. It’s not that funny.
Mark has been on a business trip, so I’ve been parenting kinda like a chimpanzee:
Clap.
Point.
Snap fingers.
Cough.
Clap angrily.
Cluck tongue.
Shrug shoulders.
Cough.
Point to something else.
Shake head furiously.
Mime brushing teeth.
Cough.
The twins think I’ve lost my mind as well as my voice.
You know what? They might be right.
Anyway, as I was getting ready to take them to school this morning, I made sure to pack a notebook and pen in my purse, in case a dire need to communicate should arise. I had all sorts of scenarios in mind. And after my socks, sharks, and other irrational fears post, are you that surprised?
Didn’t think so.
There are a billion reasons I could have needed that notebook. A cop could have violated the unspoken “We don’t pull over ponytailed and harassed looking women driving minivans, even if they are reaching into the backseat to swat at small children and swerving all over the road” rule. And if that happened, I would totally have had to write to him. No way he could have heard what’s left of my whisper over the barrage of twin-fire.
“Mommy? That’s a policeman! Why is he at your window? Is he going to take you to jail? Can we all go? Hi, policeman!”
“Mommy, is that policeman a boy or a girl? Does it have a penis?”
“Hey, Mr. Policeman! When I grow up? I wanna be a garbage man! Can we go visit your jail now?”
“He’s…he’s gonna be a garbage man and I’m gonna be an ice cream girl!”
“Do you know what number Thomas is? He’s the number 1 blue engine!!!”
“Hey! Mr. Policeman? Do you know any fire trucks?”
“Can we go see the jail now?”
My alternate scenario? We get into a car wreck. Hanging upside-down from my seatbelt, the paramedics try to coax emergency contact info out of me. But I can’t talk. They assume traumatic brain injury and I end up on a table with someone rooting around in my grey matter.
Or, most likely, and potentially the most disastrous, another mother waves hi from a distance as I herd the twins into into school. She yells a greeting. I smile, serenely and silently waving back. (If you don’t know me personally, well, let’s just say “serene and silent” is not exactly my style.) “Who pissed in her cornflakes? What a bitch,” she thinks.
So obviously I packed my notebook.
School dropoff went smoothly, thanks to my adaptation of the universal sign for choking. (FYI: universal sign for laryngitis: clutch one side of your neck while using the opposite hand to point to your throat and mouth “laryngitis.”)
Back in the van, I considered my to-do list and realized I need to go to the bank. On the way, I mentally congratulated myself for having the foresight to bring my notebook and pen. Clearly the drive-through wasn’t an option, so I would have to go in.
I was mentally composing the note in my head when the good Lord literally stopped me in my tracks. A red arrow in the left turn lane is probably the only reason I’m not in prison right this very moment.
I was on my way to the bank.
With a notepad.
And a plan to hand the teller a note.
That, dear friends, is what happens when you think ahead.
HAHA. Fantastic ending.
It could so easily have gone the other way….
Oh! I hadn't even thought of the implications until the ending. Too funny!
hahah too funny on the bank note. The one time where a red light was actually a good thing. Also I lol'ed at the does he have a penis comment.
Love this! I feel ya. My voice did come back. But my ear is still congested, so I can't hear. Which means I'm actually encouraging my kids to be louder. Gonna regret that later, I'm sure.
@TKW, me, neither!
@Soge, thanks. Hoping I won't ever get pulled over with the twins in the car (or without them in the car), but I guarantee you that if it happened, one of them would ask about a penis. And a fire truck. And jail. And then I'd probably beg the cop to arrest me just for some peace and quiet.
@Jennifer, um, yeah, you're gonna regret asking the kids to be louder!!! But it's not like you've got a choice. Hey, mother's day is soon, right?