Tales of the Sisters: A Near Miss

Tuesday night is traditionally “my night” – on these nights, we have my two daughters with us for the evening, so that the time in between weekends isn’t so long.

Last night was special because my mother is in town, and would be leaving today. She’d be able to see those two just once more before she left today, driving from Portland down to Sacramento (I hope at her age I am as motivated and able to do stuff like that).

And because we hadn’t taken the opportunity before, my wife and I accepted my mom’s offer to watch the kids while we went out to dinner. By our own selves. The very concept of having an evening to ourselves sounds as delicious as a ripe peach on a summer day.

Grandma had assured me earlier that she’d swing by and pick up B & L at their mom’s house after S came home from school, thus freeing my wife and me from any responsibility. Oh, the palpable joy!

On my way home, a smidge on the early side, I got a text message from S: “supost to pik up B and L but they arnt ansering the phon and gramma and I don’t kno whut to do.” Deciphering this, I came to the realization that B & L were not answering the phone, and S and Grandma were not sure how to proceed.

Ruh roh.

I was nearing the intersection on my homeward route at which I could make a right turn and head directly over to B & L’s mom’s house to see what was going on.

I toyed with the idea of doing just that. Instead, I called.

No answer.

Now – every previous experience with picking up these two, and I do mean every single one, has taught me that they are never ready on time. This is why I always call ahead. Always. And even then, I usually have to wait four or five minutes while one of them gets seventeen backpacks loaded with various and sundry things (mostly depleted uranium and highland games equipment, by the weight of them), and the other jumps up, runs around in circles and screams that nobody told her I was coming.

Thus, in this case, my judgment was clear: don’t bother. If they aren’t answering, then they are either not there, or they’re in even worse shape for being ready to go than usual. Several times they’ve simply forgotten that it was Tuesday, or that their mom had something else planned for them, and they’ve failed to let me know.

So I headed home.

And I called them again. No answer.

My wife arrived with Michael, and we exposited the game plan to Grandma:

“We’ll give the girls until six o’clock to answer, and then head out. We won’t be far, and I’ll keep my phone on.”

Grandma began making dinner for the kids while my wife and I got ready to go.

Six o’clock came and went, by six-thirty, with no answer at their mom’s house and no phone calls from them, my wife and I went ahead and left.

We chose a restaurant not more than two miles away, a nice little place that has excellent steaks and a pleasant atmosphere. Perfect for a child-free evening together.

As a side note, let me just say to parents out there: you need this time together. Just you and your spouse. It is not a luxury, it is a necessity. You must recall and reflect upon your marriage. You must have time to remind yourselves why you’re married in order to keep your bond strong, to keep your family’s foundation strong. So don’t think you’re being selfish or unfair to the kids by leaving them or not spending every waking moment with them. Take time for just you two.

At about a quarter to seven, while my wife is enjoying a salad and I’m enjoying a rich Cabernet, my phone rings. It’s a number I haven’t seen before.

“Hello?”
The voice of my daughter B came through, plaintive and small: “Daddy, why didn’t you ever come and get us?”
“Where are you? I called at least five times!”
“We got locked out of the house.”

Okay, now I get it.

They each forgot their keys, and their mom isn’t home from work yet. They usually rely on her leaving a window or back door open some where so they can break in, because they can’t seem to keep track of their house keys. I honestly don’t know how many they’ve each gone through, but the number is probably equal to or greater than the grains of sand covering the Sahara. There’s a huge mound of their lost keys out there, somewhere. Probably piled up next to their unmatched socks.

“You’re locked out?”
“Yeah, we’ve been standing out here for a long time. We can’t get to the phone.”
“Well, since you’re calling me, call grandma at home and maybe she can come and get you.”

Silence.

Clearly she was expecting me to rescue them.

“Why didn’t you come by?”
“Because you’re never ready when I come by. Ever. I always call first to let you know I’m on my way.”

More silence.

“Okay, I’ll call grandma,” she said, clearly put off.

“Okay, bye.” I said.

I looked up at my wife, and my eyes narrowed.

“I love you!” she said. This is her response to me whenever she sees that my blood pressure is rising.

I waited five minutes and called my mother at home.

She informed me that she’d had a couple of glasses of wine and she wouldn’t be going anywhere. Ho boy.

I called my daughter back (on her neighbor’s cell phone, as it turns out) and explained. She informed me that she was able to get ahold of her stepdad, and that he’d be coming to get them. I asked her to have him drop them off at our house so they could spend the evening with grandma like we’d planned.

After squaring that up and saying goodbye, I put the phone away and let it all be.

I wanted them to spend time with their grandma, but they needed to understand that their history of wasting time and being irresponsible had led to the situation they were in.

Had I been used to their being ready when I come by on the way home on Tuesday nights, I would have swung by to pick them up. Had I been used to them being responsible about remembering plans and being where they should be, it would have seemed odd to me when they didn’t answer the phone, and thus I would have swung by to check on them. I’m used to what I’ve experienced over the years, and so I responded accordingly.

When my wife and I did arrive home, B & L were there having dinner and enjoying time with their grandma, so it all did work out.

But they nearly missed the last bits of time they could spend with her on this trip, simply because of their pattern of lack of responsible behavior.

On their next set of house keys, I’m thinking duct tape will need to be involved.