The Beautiful Girl

It was a bit past five o’clock, and darkness was already beginning to fall over the Caribbean.  My wife was fiddling with her phone by the hotel’s reception desk, and our friends were at a restaurant watching the football game.  The hour before sunset is my favorite of the day, and I intended to enjoy it.  I picked up my John Grisham novel and a bottle of cold Mexican beer, and made the 100 foot walk from my cabana to a beach lounger.  There I sat - alone, but completely happy.

The occasional tourists would walk by, usually an olive-skinned couple speaking in a European dialect.  The men would have plenty of tattoos and facial hair, and the ladies would have skinny legs and sunglasses.

Eventually, a lone traveler began to walk down the beach toward me, and when she drew near, she began to approach me.  Figuring that she wanted me to take a picture of her or provide her with directions to the local cantina, I glanced up over my book.

“Could you watch my bag for a few minutes?” she asked.  The accent told me that she was French – no, Italian.  Definitely Italian.  She was probably in her late 20’s.  Not planning to leave my spot until the last ray of sunlight had disappeared, I agreed.

After setting down her bag, she slipped off her shoes, then her shorts, and then her shirt.  What was left was nothing but a black bikini covering a small portion of her slender body.  I guess she is going for a swim, I thought to myself.  With her back to me, she then untied her bikini top, let it drop behind her, and walked out into the ocean.

She bobbed about for ten minutes, and although I kept trying to focus on my book, I found myself reading the same paragraph over and over again.

About this time, I began to get nervous, because I knew what was coming.  She would eventually come back out of the water.

I turned to our cabana and looked for my wife, but she was nowhere in sight.  I then thought about what my pastor recommends to do in these situations – run!  But, I had agreed to watch her belongings.  So, I just sat there and waited for it to happen.  Eventually, she came out of the water and pushed her long brown hair back as she walked toward me.

I sensed that my anxiety would be more obvious if I pretended to ignore her, so I decided to quickly engage her in polite conversation.  Within a few seconds, her top was back on and she picked up her belongings. She smiled as she said “thank you” and turned to continue walking down the beach.

And then she walked out of sight, before my wife or friends came to find me.  So, there is no proof that it ever happened.    But it did.

Five minutes later, my wife sat down on the lounger next to me and asked how I was doing, likely expecting me to reply with a grunt.  I told her my tale, and she simply laughed in amusement.  And I watched her face light up as she laughed, and felt pleased to have the company of the most beautiful girl on the beach.

John Gagliardi retires

Yesterday, like countless other days, I spent the morning in John’s office.  To an extent, it was just like any other morning.  Players, monks, and coaches popped in, as John held court and fired off one-liners.  But yesterday was different, as there was also a seemingly endless line of reporters waiting at his door.  Yesterday, John Gagliardi retired, as the most winning coach in the history of college football.

Up until a couple years ago, I would have agreed with many fans who felt that John would never retire, rather he would take his final breath while still the football coach of St. John’s .  But John did retire.  I know this as I watched it all unfold from the comfort of his office sofa, audio recorder beside me.

I caught John’s raw emotion, as well as that of his coaches, family, friends, current and former players, and even his loyal reporters.  What I experienced was nothing short of mystical, and I would love to share it with all of you.  And I will…in my book. 

I’m not holding out on you because I want to sell more copies of my book, but rather because until you read the rest of John’s story, you won’t fully appreciate what happened on his final morning as the football coach of Saint John’s University.

 

So, speaking of my book, the most common question I am asked these days (outside of my kids asking for a treat) is, “How is the book going?”  I think at the homecoming football game in September, I answered that question nearly 100 times.  I always reply that I have a lot done, but a lot yet to go.  I have written over 150 pages single spaced, which is longer than I want the book to be.  Everything is organized into chapters, but the content within the chapters is still pretty rough.

I am getting close to the point of compiling my writing into a book proposal.  If you are unfamiliar with a book proposal (as I was up until a few months ago), it involves a title (still not decided), an outline for the book, a synopsis for each chapter, a couple sample chapters, and a variety of other information.   With the news of John’s retirement, the core of my book will remain in place, but I will certainly need to modify my proposal.

Once this proposal is finished, I will send it to literary agents, and hopefully find one who believes in the project as much as I do.  After I have secured an agent, they will shop it to publishers.  Once a deal has been reached with a publisher, I will be assigned an editor at the publishing house to finalize the book.  I anticipate being able to send a book proposal to agents within a month and should be able to finish a solid draft of the entire book within two months.  I had originally anticipated a release in either the fall of 2013 or 2014, but I am not yet sure how that timing will be impacted by John’s retirement.

One thing that will never waver is that this book will be very honoring of John and his entire family.  In fact, while sitting in his office, I was mindful of how he was being treated by the media, and didn’t hesitate to break in and remind him to eat lunch and to keep drinking water so that he wouldn’t pass out during his press conference. 

At one point, John excused himself to “go to the can” and a photographer from a major newspaper kept snapping pictures as John crossed the hall and entered the locker room.  A bit afraid that this young lad would act on his excitement, I warned, “If you follow him to the bathroom, I’m going to tackle you.”

He stayed put, and I suppose that was a good thing.  But on the other hand, it would have been kind of nice to make one final tackle for John.

The Norwegian Widower - Days 9 and 10

As I rolled over toward my nightstand to smack the noise-making-thing-with-numbers-on-it, I realized I would probably prefer to be awoken by the sound of nails on a chalkboard compared to my alarm clock.  I limped (from fatigue, not pain) down the stairs and successfully located the frying pan.  And on the ninth day…I finally cooked the scrambled eggs to perfection, or about as close as I will ever come.

We had run out of juice boxes in the fridge the day before, and I had neglected to find out if stores would sell me some more.  As a result, I was feeling uncertain and even somewhat afraid of what beverage I would pack Tito for lunch, and also how Bitsy would choke down her medicine.  On a whim, I looked on the shelf in the garage, and there, in what seemed like a modern day miracle, was another container of juice boxes.  I nearly wept tears of joy.

After letting her stay up until eleven o’clock last night, I somehow roused Bitsy around eight.  I was expecting an unpleasant morning, but in a shocking turn of events, she consumed all 40 milligrams of her medicine in only five minutes!  Much to her delight, I responded by loudly bellowing, “Ladies and gentlemen, here she is, your medicine consuming champion of the world, Sofiaaaa Bossssstrommmmmmmmmmmm!”

After dropping her off at school, I returned to the guest room for a two hour nap, unable to get myself back out of bed until snoozing the alarm two times.  Nearly the first thing I found after arising was Tito’s homework on the floor.  It may have been visible had the floor been less cluttered.

Just before leaving to do some consulting, the friendly people at Kohl’s charge card called to inquire as to why we were late with our payment.  After successfully talking them out of both a $25 late fee and $10 operator-assisted payment fee, I settled our account.  As I hung up the phone, I couldn’t help but wonder how many other folks we owe money to, as I haven’t looked at bills since Kacey left.

I spend a few hours at my client and stayed in a consulting meeting until the last minute.  As usual, I grossly underestimated the time it would take to get to Bitsy’s school.  As she finally saw my car drive into sight, she put her hands on her hips and scowled.  I begged her forgiveness, which I believe was granted.

Upon arriving home, I found Big Daddy and one of my uncles trying to unclog my drain.  A couple hours, thirty foot snake, and two trips to the hardware store later, we were back in business.  Who knew that a leftover beef roast doesn’t work well down the drain? 

When they went to the hardware for the second time, I realized I had 30 minutes before leaving for church, and had neither the energy nor the knowledge of how to actually find something to make for dinner.  When my dad said he would pick up some burgers and fries at McDonald’s, I wanted to shout for joy.

By the time I arrived at church, I was absolutely numb and in substandard condition to lead a small group of 11 energetic sixth grade boys.  In an act of mercy, only six of the boys showed up and were delightful and well behaved.

I got home to see that nobody had kidnapped Bitsy Tito and I were gone; I was never so happy to see her spend a couple straight hours on the computer.

I collapsed into my chair and wrote a bit, extremely thankful that Tito didn’t need any help with his homework.  A bit later, as I tucked him in, I asked him what he missed most about Kacey.  He said, “Well, probably that she is really nice.”  As I tucked in Bitsy, I similarly asked her if she was excited for Kacey’s impending arrival, “Yeah, I am happy mom is coming home, but it was fun.  You are a good dad.  You aren’t completely useless, except for cooking and for picking me up from school 15 minutes late.”

Despite being absolutely exhausted, I had consulting work to do, a book to write, and a Norwegian Widower blog to update (which in hindsight was probably not my brightest idea).  Thus, I couldn’t relax, and I worked until about one thirty in the morning.  After tossing, turning, and twitching for an hour, I got back up and worked some more.  I finally drifted off sometime after four-thirty in the morning.  Based on the recommendation of one of my blog followers, I just shut the door to my own bedroom to keep the cats out.  Wow, that was easy, and I wish I’d followed their advice earlier!

When the alarm went off just a bit over two hours later, I was depressed to realize I didn’t even leave myself enough time to hit the snooze button.  Hunched over a bit, I staggered down the hallway toward Tito’s room and noticed that my mouth was hanging open, one eye was closed, and the other was half shut.  Sure enough, after finally perfecting scrambled eggs the day before, Tito asked for a waffle today. 

Every time I turned around in the kitchen, I found myself needing to stand still for a few seconds just to re-focus both my eyes and my brain.  He made it out the door with combed hair, and a bit later, I supervised Bitsy’s medicine-taking for the final time.  While I failed in my goal to teach her how to swallow a pill, it seems that she developed a new way for her to take her medicine, as it took her barely over three minutes  and the gagging noises were kept to a minimum.

I dropped Bitsy off at school and went home to do some consulting work.  After a couple hours of Excel spreadsheets, I was unable to keep my eyes open.  With a late night and a long weekend ahead, I called my consulting boss and more or less pleased for an extension, which was I was delighted that she granted.

After hanging up, I was looked around my house and realized I was going to be leaving it somewhat messy for Kacey.  I was feeling discouraged about doing that, but just then, my mother-in-law called and said that she and Kacey’s sister would be over in a little bit to clean our house.  Wow!

I crashed for a solid three hours and scrambled to get ready.  I had plans that evening which involved picking up a country music singing friend from the airport, so after moving my sister-in-law’s car out from behind my own, I drove Tito and Bitsy over to Big Daddy’s house.  He would be picking up both Kacey and my mom.

As I dropped the kids off in my final act as a Norwegian Widower and drove away to pick up my buddy, I reflected a bit on the experience and want to give a quick shout out to three different groups of people:

To married couples who have kids but both work - I don’t know how you do it and actually stay married.  But bless those of you who do.

To stay at home parents like Kacey, I salute you.  I didn’t meet anything but my kids’ basic needs, and my readers may even question if I did that.  But, your ability to be there for your kids provides a stability that is irreplaceable.  Sure, you could be making more money or contributing to society in a different way if you weren’t at home, but the role you play in developing your children is valuable beyond belief.  I know this, because I am married to a woman who is (almost always) joyful to be a stay at home mom.  And the work she has done with our kids over the past years has molded them into responsible and delightful kids.  I don’t know how I would have survived 10 days with them without the benefit of the foundation she has built.

And to single parents who don’t have my fortune of seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, you amaze me.  Trying to balance  the needs of my kids while still pulling home a paycheck was incredibly stressful.  But, I have well-behaved 11 and 9 year old kids, and some of you have younger kids that require significantly more of your time.  So, to those of you reading this who know a single parent, please try to help them out periodically, either with chores, babysitting, or whatever you can offer.  Kacey does this on a regular basis with a single mom, and I have never appreciated her efforts more.

Wrapping up my journey, I picked up my buddy at the airport 45 minutes late and we began to head to our first event of the weekend.  It was then that I received a call from my sister-in-law asking me if I knew where her car keys were, as I had moved her car just an hour earlier.  After thinking for a moment, I patted my front pants pocket and found them.  As I drove back home, I couldn’t help but think that it was a fitting end to my ten day comedy of errors.

And with that, I don't think I have ever been so happy to say these next two words...

The end!

The Norwegian Widower - Day 8

Tito again put the kibosh on my attempt to gain a few precious minutes of extra sleep with his standard, “Wake up!”  He is starting to resemble a character out of an Stephen King movie. 

At least I remembered to heat up the frying pan today before spraying it, so his eggs didn’t turn out black, just brown as I over-cooked them for whatever-day-this-is in a row.  Tito misplaced his jacket, and I had no energy to help him look for it, so I had him try on one of my old extra-large NASCAR jackets.  It dwarfed him, I didn’t care, and I sent him off to school.  I am thinking that Jeff Foxworth could have come up with another “You might be a redneck” joke had he saw my son that day.

Bitsy actually got up without too many problems and sat down at the kitchen counter to take her medicine.  I set the timer for eight minutes and she made her usual gasping, gagging, and screeching noises until the buzzer went off.  I went over to ensure she had suffered down every last milligram, but as I approached her, I could tell something wasn’t right.  Her head was down, and she starting pounding the counter wish her fist.  When I reached her, she had tears in her eyes.  She hadn’t finished her medicine, and the consequence was…no computer for the rest of the day.

This unexpected situation put me at a crossroads.  I believe in being firm with consequences, yet she had nailed this new medicine-taking process every day thus far.  I went for the empathetic approach and said, “Alright, if you can get the rest down in the next minute, that will be okay.”  She worked in a fury, had it down within 30 seconds, and life went on.  If she turns out to be an undisciplined disaster someday, well, go ahead and blame…Kacey.  If she wasn’t in Norway, I wouldn’t have been in the medicine-enforcement roll.  In fact, I would have still been sleeping.

As I was getting Bitsy ready for school, I took another look at the note that Kacey had left for me regarding the product that goes into Bitsy’s hair after head-washing (discussed previously on day 5).  Sure enough, it isn’t supposed to be a lotion, it is a spray – so whatever I put in Bitsy’s hair on Saturday was wrong.  Raise your hand if you are surprised…seeing no hands, I will continue.

After dropping Bitsy off at school with five minutes to spare, I returned home for my daily nap.  Unfortunately, I could only snooze for about an hour, as I had a consulting call to attend. I thought  about taking the call from bed, and just may have done that if I wasn’t worried about falling asleep  and snoring into the phone.  After my call, I actually thought about taking my second nap of the morning, but decided that drinking half of the country of Columbia’s annual production of coffee may keep me awake for a few hours.

As I drove out to my consulting client around noon, I was frustrated at the thought of having to leave three hours later to pick up Bitsy from school, just to drive her home one mile.  After all, she would probably just sit in front of the computer or play with friends until dinnertime.  The problem is that Kacey decided that as she is a stay-at-home mom, our family shouldn’t pay the $250 to have Bitsy transported to school.  That is all well and good, except when Kacey is several thousand miles away.

So, I enlisted Big Daddy for pick up duties, although it was also someone stressful for him to pick her up as he had some sort of repair dude at his house.  Before we hung up he told me, “I will pick her up, but do us all a favor and stay at your consulting client long enough (they pay me hourly) to earn the $250 and just put her on the bus next time.

I ended up getting home around five and promptly found my easy chair.  I was spent;  I had no motivation to do anything except stare at the ceiling, and even that was exhausting.  Yep, it was pretty obviously that I’d had it - I needed Kacey back.

I tried to pacify the kids with a snack of chips and salsa, but was met with protests from Tito.  So, dinner was burgers and tator tots.  I was so defeated in my prior attempt to make broccoli that I didn’t even try again.  Tito has had fruits and vegetables a grand total of two times in Kacey’s absence (unless you count apple juice as a fruit).  Interestingly enough, he went #2 three times after dinner and said his stomach was not feeling well.  I suppose a diet involving no fiber will do that to you.  Kacey really needs to come home.

Tito had a fair amount of homework, and I erred in not having him start it until 7 o’clock.  He is an early bird and begins to tire around 8.  So, his motivation wasn’t high and my energy level was on empty.  I was shorter than I should have been with him, a pretty poor teacher in fact (I guess I now know what University of St. Thomas professors feel like), but we got it done.

After tucking him in, Bitsy sat on the couch across from me and worked on her own book.  It wasn’t homework, rather just writing for fun.  Finally, at about eleven o’clock on a school night, I figured I should make her go to bed.  I am pretty sure I didn’t even tuck her in – it was too far away.

Completely exhausted, I tried to crash around midnight, but couldn’t settle my brain.  I haven’t made much progress on my own book, but have no energy to do so.  Kacey gets back late Thursday afternoon, and it can’t come soon enough.  After tossing and turning for at least an hour, I finally drifted off to sleep.

The Norwegian Widower - Day 7

Desperate to squeeze in a few extra minutes of sleep, I set my alarm for 6:55 instead of this week’s normal 6:45 (and compared to Kacey’s 6:30).  Tito took care of that, however, when he came in a few minutes before my alarm was to go off and said, “Wake up, Dad!”  I certainly need to beg Big Daddy to come over and install a lock on the door.

I was in an absolute daze as I staggered down to the kitchen.  I set the frying pan on the burner, stared at it blankly, and then sprayed it.  This was, of course, before turning on the gas.  So, when I figured out how to turn on the burner, the gas heated up the pan and made the spray somewhat black.  Tito’s eggs thus ended up a mixture of yellow and black, kind of a like a bumblebee or one of the guys from the 1980’s Christian hard rock band Stryper.  I tried to hide the discolored eggs with his toast, which must have been at least partially successful as he ate most of his breakfast.

As I was making Tito’s lunch, I asked him where his lunchbox was, which led to this exchange:

“I don’t know, I must have lost it at school.”

“What do you mean?  How did you lose it at school???”

“Dad…nobody is perfect.”

I had no comeback for that one. 

Coming off a long weekend, I let Bitsy sleep in a while longer than usual.  And when I woke her up, she asked for just “twooooo morrrrre minutesssssss” to sleep.  How could I say no, especially when she fell back asleep right before my eyes and I watched her mouth drop open and her breathing become deeper.  Eventually, I had to wake up her Royal Cuteness.

Using the timer to get her to take her medicine worked yet again, although it was quite comical to listen to her cough, gag, and sound like she was being stabbed to death while putting those whopping 40 milligrams in her mouth over a period of eight minutes.

As soon as I got home after dropping her off at school, I was back in bed and comatose.  The dang alarm clock went off 90 minutes later, as I had a meeting to attend at St. John’s.  Just as I was leaving my house, I noticed that our sink was plugged.  There have been issues with our sink and garbage disposal lately, apparently it does not like the combination of leftover beef and hot water.  Oh well, perhaps I can leave it until Kacey gets home and then when the sink fills up on her, I can pull a Chris Farley in Tommy Boy and yell, “Hey, what did you do to our sink?!?!”

My meeting at school went quite well considering the person who called the meeting didn’t show up.  My 80 mile trek was not a total failure, however, as I visited John, the subject of my sabbatical.  I hadn’t talked to him since the beginning of the football season.  Everyone has been asking him if he is going to retire, so we brainstormed some comical answers he could start giving to reporters.  Our favorite one…the head football coach at Hamline University just resigned, perhaps to pursue Bigfoot on a full time basis (he is an expert on Bigfoot, no lie).  John and I decided he should announce that he is leaving St John’s and has signed a 10 year contract to turn around the Hamline squad. 

I got back from school and plopped down on my easy chair to do some consulting work.  After a bit, the kids reminded me that it was my responsibility to provide them with dinner, so I decided to cook up some Denny’s.  It was a delightful dinner full of “would you rather” questions (one of our family’s favorite activities) and discussion with the 85 year old widow in the booth next to us – I am pretty sure she wanted to adopt me by the end of our chat. 

After dinner, we picked up Bitsy’s new eyeglasses and upon putting them on for the first time, she felt like the blind man healed by Jesus and shouted, “I can see!”  But unlike the miracle in the book of Mark, no one needed to spit on her eyes.

One thing that I noticed in this experience as a single dad is that supplies are not endless in one’s house - you actually have to shop for toilet paper, it doesn’t magically keep appearing in the bathroom.  Thus, we stopped by Walmart to pick up a variety of things, including a small waste basket for used cat litter.  After spending 10 minutes looking 8-gallon sized garbage bags, but finding only about 400 different varieties of 13-gallon sized bags, I gave up and began to leave. 

As we passed a nearby aisle filled with treats, the kids launched into a tale of desperation.  I told them they could pick out a treat only if they could find 8-gallon sized bags.  60 seconds later, Bitsy surfaced while holding the bags and put her treat into the cart.  “What kind of treat is that?” I asked as I gestured toward the box of whatever she selected.  “Something really good,” she replied, “and that is all you need to know.”

We arrived home and I successfully made the kids brush their teeth before tucking them in around nine thirty.  Although I probably should have just gone to bed as well at that time, I did some work and made a poor attempt at writing until I finally called it a night at half past one.  This time, I didn’t even bother with my own cat-infested bedroom, I went straight to the guest room.  We have some friends coming in town this weekend, and they may be disappointed when I tell them that the guest room bed is taken.  And I may not even let Kacey join me, as she'd probably bring the sleep-depriving-furballs with her.

 

And to think I once paid good money to go to a Stryper concert, and my brother and I would spend hours debating whether "To Hell with the Devil" or "Honestly" was a better tune.

RIP Chris Farley.

The Norwegian Widower - Day 6

One of my buddies sent Tito to wake me up a bit after nine o’clock, and I must admit that I really enjoyed a cat-less night of sleep.  Part of the benefit of this overnight play date was that my buddy’s wife always puts on a nice spread for breakfast - eggs, bacon, and sausage from their own chickens and pigs – and not only do I enjoy that deliciousness for myself, but I know the kids will be taken care of.

We left right after breakfast as we had to volunteer at church.  As is my custom, I showed up a minute late, likely raising the anxiety level of our kind kids-area coordinator.  Every other week, we watch a bunch of 18-24 month olds.  Although my kids were feeling the effects of staying up past midnight and using the rocking chairs for themselves, we made it through the hour without incident and without having to change any poopy diapers. 

Upon arriving home, Tito announced that the Dolly Mama had barfed again, amazingly at the same spot at the top of the stairs next to the previous projectile that still remained.  Last time it worked much better to wait until it dried to clean it up, so I chose that option again and instead took a two hour nap. I did vacuum up the vomit, but again did not do any carpet-scrubbing.  We are getting new carpet sometime in the next couple weeks anyway, so is there really any reason to clean it up?

The kids read my blog while I was napping (they think these blogs are cool because they are in them) and Bitsy promptly told me, “Part 4 was not very good.  It was filled with a bunch of boring stuff that only adults like.  Please make the next part more interesting.”  As an aside, the kids also like to “audit” my blogs and tell me if I am saying something inaccurate.  But that’s okay, I used to work for Arthur Andersen, so if I don’t like the kids’ input, I just shred it.

After doing my best to satisfy the little dictator, I decided to actually cook dinner for the first time since Kacey has been gone.  I guess there is a reason she thaws meat in advance, as the rib-eyes were frozen solid when I took them out of the freezer, go figure.  That delayed dinner until after seven o’clock, which would have been fine except only Bitsy obeyed my request to make herself a sandwich for lunch.

While the slabs of meat turned out delicious, the French fries were a bit old and maybe freezer burned, and I advised the kids to eat them with caution.  Further, I managed to mess up the steamed broccoli.  How I did that I am not sure, but I guess it is what I get for trying to serve a vegetable.

Some excitement for the evening was that I noticed one of the cats frantically trying to get into one of our kitchen cupboards.  Sure enough, the mousetrap I set was successful!  In order to satisfy the cat’s curiosity, I set the “full” mousetrap down in front of the cat for his inspection.  While that seemed like a good idea at the time, I hadn’t counted on the cat running away with it.  I finally chased the cat down upstairs and in the guest room before any mouse parts were consumed.

This evening, I accomplished a monumental task in getting Tito to wash his melon before bed.  As mentioned before, Kacey requested an every other day head-washing, so getting it done for the first time on day 6 probably counts as failure on that one.

After trying to write, but generally feeling to worn out to accomplish much save for staring at the computer screen, I tried to hit the hay at about one o’clock in the morning.  But the cats were again enjoying play time in our room, so I walked to the guest room and probably fell asleep around two.  That’s okay, I suppose I only have to live with these cats for another 10-15 years.

The Norwegian Widower - Day 5

Ahhhh, the weekend….I relished the opportunity to sleep in and did not get out of bed until 9:30 (in the morning, thank you).  After eating a breakfast of leftover pizza, I let the kids know they were on their own for the first meal of the day.  I figured that three days of cooking eggs and waffles entitled me to a break.

Kacey had left me a task of washing Bitsy’s hair at least once, so I figured this morning was a good time to check that off the list.  Kacey had also told me to put some sort of lotion in Bitsy’s hair before combing it; I assume it is some sort of anti-snarling potion.  After Bitsy’s bath, I had her go find what she thought was the lotion and inspected it.  Upon seeing the word “hair” somewhere on the bottle, I assumed Bitsy had grabbed the correct bottle.  I put what I am pretty sure was way too much in her hair, but not knowing what to do, I figured too much was better than too little.

After puttering around for a while, I had to leave for the Johnnies final football game of the year.  Big Daddy wasn’t available to watch the kids, and I hadn’t arranged for anyone else to do so.  They expressed less than zero interest in going with me, even when faced with the alternative of spending four hours home alone.  (For any horrified readers… the game was ten minutes away from my house, the kids know my cell phone number, they get along great and don’t get into trouble, and we live in an extremely safe neighborhood where they know many of the neighbors.  Plus, my folks often left my brother and me in the car for hours on end while they went bar hopping.  Okay, maybe not, but my mom reads my blog so I figured I’d make sure she was awake!)

Before I left, I gave them each one instruction.  Tito…take a bath and wash your hair.  Bitsy, here is your medicine, make sure it gets in your body.  I also pointed out where the bread, peanut butter, and honey was and encouraged them to make themselves a sandwich when they got hungry.

When I returned from the game a few hours later, Tito informed me that he had indeed taken a bath, but had not washed his hair as he could not find the shampoo - of course, I had pointed the shampoo out to him earlier.  Bitsy’s bowl of medicine was gone (not the medicine, but the entire bowl), and she did not remember whether or not she consumed it – I am going with ,”No.”  Neither of them made a sandwich, but did manage to find other snacks and treats.  While this may sound like a disaster, I was of course pleased that they were alive, well, and happy.

Before heading to church, I fed the cats and cleaned out their litter box, but couldn’t remember what I was forgetting.  I later remembered that I didn’t check their water dish to see if it needed replenished.  But, I figured if they ran out, they could get resourceful and use the toilets.

After church, we stopped at McDonald’s for dinner, amazingly the first time they have eaten fast foot since Kacey has been gone!  I had arranged for an overnight play-date for them, figuring that a good parent does stuff like that.  Never mind the fact that the play date was at the house of my best friend, with another great buddy crashing over as well – I did this for my kids. 

Once we got to the my buddy’s house, my kids ran off with his kids, and I rewarded myself for a few days of hard work with a seat on the sectional couch in front of a 120 inch video screen.  We watched college football until after midnight and rarely saw or heard from the kids.

At that point, I made my way upstairs to find my kids watching a movie.  I arranged to have the movie turned off and found places for them to sleep.  We did not bring their tooth brushes with, as I had asked them to do so before leaving for church, and then later realized we had got distracted and forgotten about that.  Tito was so tired, he did not even protest about having to sleep in one of the girls’ rooms, unaware that he was be infested with girl germs and cooties.

Tired from not having taken my usual nap, I decided to crash as well.  After asking someone to wake me up at nine o’clock, I found the guest room and laid down for a night of cat-less sleep.