Tuesday

Some days you wake up and nothing noteworthy happens. You drink your coffee. YOU drink coffee, I drink tea. You answer emails. You run an errand or two. Maybe you make dinner. *insert laughs* because I also do not make dinner.

Some days you take your mother to have a “tiny” spot removed from her arm, watch a dermatologist basically drill said arm off her body, eat a Smashburger to recover, and arrive home to fifteen AT&T technicians standing in your yard looking serious enough that you begin to wonder if you committed a crime.

Hello, Arrests.org. Do you guys stalk that site like my sister and I do?

That was my Tuesday.

The day started innocently enough. Mom had a dermatologist appointment. She had a place on her arm that needed to be removed and biopsied.

No big deal, right?

Except this place started growing around TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO, and my mother – whom I love dearly, but also want to choke – didn’t get it looked at.

For twenty-five years.

By the time we got there, what I imagined would be a quick Burn + Band-Aid situation turned into more of an excavation.

Did the dermatologist actually drill my mother’s arm off her body? No. Did it feel like he did? Yes.

Everything about our lives is dramatic, nothing new to see here.

We recovered with lunch.

We went downtown to Roost where I ordered the Smashburger again. It’s THAT good. We wrote all about it for Greenville – you can read it here. *Chef’s kiss*

All was right with the world.

Until we got home.

There were fifteen AT&T men at our house. Fine, maybe I’m exaggerating that number, but there were more than three.

Our internet has been an ongoing saga. Mom and I both use the internet for work. Living in a dead zone is not an option.

The first time our internet went out, they discovered that the line had been chewed by a tiny mouse. I named him Stuart Little. JP used to love that movie.

This time, however, Stuart was not the culprit.

From what I gathered, somebody made a mistake when they installed the line this past weekend, which means a small army had to be dispatched to fix it.

Those men were SERIOUS! Thankfully, all is well in cyber land.

My next responsibility was to pick up Jackson from school. His mom is out of the country, so I was on school pickup and Little League duty.

Again, this should have been a simple task. I set an alarm. Then, I set another alarm in case something happened to the first alarm.

Excessive? Hardly.

When I was in high school, my parents’ friends asked me to pick up their son from school one afternoon. I forgot him.

That experience permanently scarred me. I am absolutely terrified of forgetting somebody’s child at school. Add in a little perimenopause to the mix, and two alarms doesn’t seem so dramatic.

Without them, there is a real possibility that I could be sitting somewhere working while a seven year old Jackson sits alone in the school office wondering why everyone he loves has abandoned him.

I’m rambling. All you need to know is:

Mom still has an arm, the Smashburger is delicious and you need to order it, Stuart Little has been cleared of all charges, the internet is up and running, and I did not forget Jackson.

Now, here are some pictures of my sweet school kids this week…