The Longest Day Happened at the Wrong Solstice

The boy stayed with Mam and Pa last night, so that he wouldn’t have to get up in the pre-dawnness of the morning to take his daddy to the airport.

Or rather, the boy ATTEMPTED to stay with Mam and Pa last night.

Being kidless for an evening, Hubs and I ventured off to the cinema to catch one of the dorkiest comedies we’ve seen in eons.

(Naturally, we laughed until it hurt. That’s how we roll.)

And then we came home, and we finished packing Hubs’ bags, so that he could board a plan before the unholy hour of 6:00 this morning. He fiddled around, arranging the laptop and the iPad and the GPS and the smart phone just so in his bag.

I have no idea how the ancient settlers traveled by covered wagon across this great continent without electronics and gadgets.

The stars? For navigation purposes? Preposterous!

The bag was packed and ready to go, and we crawled into bed at 10 PM.

And then I was up at 10:45 PM, beating Cat 2, who had taken it upon herself to attack and utterly kill, maim and destroy yet another plant. Oh, poor Cat 2. She went into hiding, feeling the shame of her deeds and the pain of her swat, and we didn’t hear from her again until this morning. The plant, I fear, will not be making it, and we’ll be hosting a plant funeral in the next day or so, as I’m probably going to be forced to throw it out. Cat 2 did a really sweet number on this one.

By the time I finally fell asleep, it was after 11:00.

And then, just to make things interesting, Mam called at precisely 2:33 this morning. I was out of bed like a shot, grabbing the phone and shouting, “Is everything alright?” Because really? Mam tends not to call at 2:33 in the morning, when everything is fine, actually.

It was the boy. He was in the midst of his first-ever, full-on asthma attack.

We just recently found out that the boy has exercised-induced asthma. He runs and runs. He wheezes. His wheezing has always been very mild, and his pediatrician has had him on a daily inhaler that seems to control everything pretty well.

And then, apparently, there were many tears on the boy’s part last night, because he was not at all interested in sending his dad off to Far, Far Away for a week-long class on software for servers. Oh, no. The boy was NOT game for this plan at all, so he sobbed good and proper last night. Broke our hearts, he did. The boy and Hubs are tight.

We’re thinking that THIS is what set the asthma attack off…too much sobbing.

Thankfully, Dr. B had given us a rescue inhaler, so Mam and Pa brought the boy home at 2:45 this morning, and we pumped him full of inhaled airway openers, and presto.

He was immediately better.

In fact, he was SO BETTER, he decided to go back to Mam and Pa’s house at 3:00 this morning. Since they were, in fact, still in our driveway, ready to return home, we shoved him into their car, and off he went.

HE went back to sleep for another three-and-a-half hours. No one else did. Not Mama. Not Daddy. Not Mam. Not Pa.

People, I have been up and awake since 2:33 this morning.

I had Hubs out of bed at 4:00, so that he could shower and dress. Hubs never fell back asleep after the asthma attack, but he tried to PRETEND to sleep and WILL HIMSELF to sleep, because he knew the alarm was set for 4 and that it was going to be a long day if he stayed awake.

And then we were in Starbucks’ drive-thru at PRECISELY 5:01 this morning, people. Precisely. I thought that my favorite restaurant opened at 5:00 in the morning, and Hubs and I joked that our debit card would probably flip a red flag out, because HELLO! It had never been used that early in the morning before — not ever; not once. Hubs and I were betting major dollars with one another that the bank would immediately freeze the transaction and shout, “Stolen card! The Jedi Family has never swiped their debit card before 8 AM in their entire lives!”

However, we’ll never know WHAT our bank would say about an early transaction on the card, because listen, people, and listen good. Either Starbucks doesn’t really open at 5:00, or we were snubbed, because the lights were on, and there were cars in the parking lot which screamed out EMPLOYEES ON GROUNDS!, but there was not a single soul to be seen who could make a hot beverage. Not one.

Dear Starbucks,
We are breaking up. It’s you; not me. You let me down in my deepest hour of need, and I no longer feel as though I can trust you. If a girl cannot purchase a cup of caffeine at 5:01 in the morning, when she had already been awake and out of bed since 2:33 AM, then clearly she’ll do what she has to do, which is to hit McDonald’s across the street. Yes, Starbucks, we’ve had some really good times together, but this is personal.
Jedi Mama

And don’t believe for a single minute that I went over to McDonald’s at 5:03 in the morning, because there is NO McChai Latte over there. It’s a shame.

With no cups of Starbucks love in our hands, Hubs and I were at the airport at 5:08 this morning.

And we sat, and we sat, and we sat, and we tried to out-yawn one another, and we watched a couple across from us, as SHE kept trying to lick her hands and tame HIS wild bedhead. She was all put together and ready to fly; he had clearly rolled out of bed and pulled his sweatpants on, and I do believe his hair embarrassed her.

Heck, his hair embarrassed ME, and I wasn’t even related to him. He looked like he’d combed his hair with a KitchenAide mixer.

Hubs eventually boarded his plane, and I came home at 6:15 this morning.

I was fully dressed. I was fully make-upped. And I was still boyless. So I threw in a load of laundry and hauled out the vacuum cleaner.

People, I scoured the house today.


By 10:00 this morning, I’d accomplished a level of cleaning that is normally equivalent to what some women like to call SPRING CLEANING, because I was afraid that if I stopped moving, I’d fall asleep standing up. The only break I took was the twenty minute excursion across town to deliver a semi-well-rested boy to school, as his asthma was well under control.

My laundry is done. All done. My floors shine, my sinks sparkle, my mirrors twinkle, my carpets are fluffed, and my countertops smell like lavender kitchen spray.

This evening, I felt like SURELY! SURELY IT WAS NEARING 9:30 PM AND TIME FOR THE BOY AND I TO HEAD TO BED! I looked at the clock. It was 4:50.

4:50 PM.

As in, the majority of America had not even eaten dinner yet.

I helped the boy study some vocabulary words, and then thought SURELY! SURELY IT WAS 9:30 AND TIME FOR US TO HIT THE HAY! I looked at the clock again. It was 5:40.

This is the day that will not end. I kind of think that Joshua must’ve been begging for some more light to fight a battle with, because I am beginning to suspect that the sun might have stood still for a while today.

And now, with my body feeling like it’s quickly approaching midnight, I see that we’re barely after 6:00 in real time.

My plan is to keep the boy from seeing a clock and convince him that it’s bedtime. Wish me luck, people.

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