It's a dramedy, Part 2

Yesterday, in the morning, I turned the ringer off on the phone.  No one had to be up really early, and I figured anyone that was in dire need of talking to me, could call the cell phone.

The kids start school next week (!) and I just wanted a day for everyone to sleep in, and ease into our last week of staying-at-home hedonism.  Pajamas!  Movies!  Popcorn!  Ice cream!  You know, real bad stuff.

I was really surprised when my cell phone rang.  I nearly fell out of the chair when I realized it was my Dad, calling at an ungodly hour (for him), 10:45 am.  I braced myself for bad news, maybe about Nana, and took a deep breath.

You could've knocked me over with a strong exhale when he said, "I think your Mom had a little stroke last night."

First of all, my Mom is in pretty good health.  Second of all, we were just there Sunday night, and she was fine.  Thirdly, is there such thing as a 'little' stroke? 

I said, "You have to take her to the hospital."

He said she was doing okay and he would take her to her internist that afternoon.  So I said we'd be right over, to watch Nana, and that if she worsened, to take her to the ER right away.  He told me what happened that made  him think she'd had a stroke, and I really didn't retain much, because I was concerned.  But I kept thinking, why is he waiting?  Surely, she should go somewhere right now...whatever.  I just need to get there.

Nolan was impressive--in the middle of all this, before I got off the phone, he stood up, straight as I've ever seen him, said, "I'll take care of the kids,"  marched down the hall and started rousing Ben (ack, still sleeping) while giving Audrey and Ryan orders to get their stuff together so we could leave.   All that, just by hearing the tone of my voice.  He's such a good kid.

My next task was getting Mr W home, who'd gone out as he had to go to court.   He called me back; I was expecting him to say he'd be home as soon as he was done, but he surprised me by saying he'd be home asap. 

He was home in a flash, I was getting our stuff together, and that's how I found out about the car getting egged.  He hosed it down while I was finishing up, and someone picked it up right before we headed out.

Imagine my surprise to walk into my parent's house, to find my Mom in the kitchen, right as rain. 

WTF?

She and my Dad were shooting daggers at each other.  I'm in the middle, trying to make sense of it all.  Thank God for Mr W.  He kinda shifted into cop-mode, taking it all in and assessing the situation, and I was for once, not irritated to see him do it.  He summed it up, looking from my Dad to my Mom as he looked right at me:

"So, basically, we're looking at a 'he said, she said' situation."

Love him.  Love him, love him, love him.

My Mom insisted she was fine.  She didn't get up all night.

My Dad insisted she was "wandering the house, drooling and unresponsive...barely able to walk".

"Sleepwalking?"  Mr W and I offered.

This only led to some ranting under his breath, assurances from my Mom, and me wanting to shake the shit out of the both of them.

They've been having issues.  My Dad has always been volatile, and it's worse lately.  My Mom is mouthier than I've ever seen her in all my life (which is not necessarily a bad thing) and that adds to it.  Throw in the care of my Nana, and it's like there's TNT in the air they breathe.

Anyway.  Dad left for work, and we were left with my Mom, who was annoyed.  For her, this situation is like being woken up by your spouse in the middle of the night as they hold a mirror under your nose, I guess.  Or shake you into wakefulness because you are so soundly sleeping they think you are dead. 

Mom didn't want to go see the doctor.  I pleaded with her, and Mr W convinced her, that it would be best to check her out, as neither one of us was there the night before, and we would worry after we left if she wasn't given a clean bill of health.

So I took her to the doctor.  Who said she was right as rain.  (Not before I got to hear an earful about my folks, um, relations, for which I will be traumatized by for the rest of my life.  "I can step outside Mom."  I said, eyeing the door.  "No.  That's fine.  I don't care."  I look helplessly at the doc, and sink ever lower in the exam room chair.  Calm. Blue. Ocean.  Calm.  Blue....ack!  Thaaaat's gonna require a lot of selective memory.  Thank goodness for heavy drinking.)

The bright side is my Mom is fine.  My Dad, well.  Well.  I can't say.  He's terribly embarrassed, and he's not putting it behind him anytime soon.

It's his fault. 

He's the one that called a few people.

And you know how family loooooves to let one live down an 'oops', no matter the intentions.

As for Mr W, he managed to get on the bad side of ShrimpyNana.  My Mom's mom, she called the house, looking for Mom.  And Mr W innocently replied, "Oh, Anna took her to the doctor."  "What?  Why?"  Oops.  He told Nana that it was nothing, my Mom was fine.  And Nana got feisty on him.  "They went to the doctor, just for laughs?"

I didn't know this, and as most people know, when in crisis, you usually want your Mommy.  So I went to pick up ShrimpyNana on the way back to my Mom's house. 

She was all over Mr W the minute we walked in.  And they were laughing about it, of course, but I think she could've taken him, with one good swing of her purse, had he not helped her out of our van and made her laugh.

On the way to the house, though, she made me laugh.  She insisted I call my Tia that she lives with, who'd just walked in when we were leaving.  "Do you have your cell phone?  Call her."  She gets on the phone, and the conversation turns into a George Lopez skit.

The background is my Nana lives with my Tia, my Tio, my cousin, and a long-haired family friend (and her 7 yr old son).  Got that?  Okay.

My Nana was a little irritated, as my Tia doesn't believe her that the family friend makes a mess in the bathroom (the "chower") and so she felt compelled to call my Tia right at that moment.  

Spanglish ears, everyone:

"Oyes, Tessie?  Te hable because I had to tell you, and so you don't accuse me of chisme, that the chower is a mess.   Hay grenyas (hairs) all over the inside of it, and you never believe me.  And I didn't chower in that today.   Mira, go, did you look?  I'm not lying.  Go!  Look now.  I'm not chismiando, ve lo!  I have to have my chower, voy al el doctor de los ojos manana..."

At which point my Nana says my Tia told her, "Mom, they're checking your eyes, not your body."

"Si, pero, yo no soy cochina, and I need the chower.  I'm not going to my appointment all hedionda.  Estoy cansada de estar cleaning it up.  I better be able to use it later.  Didn't you go see it?  Go, go now.  I'm not lying!"

At which point, it hit me that I have been away from visiting them too long.  And it was funny, in the midst of my day, this day, to have my Nana get worked up about hairs in the shower.  "Um, Nana?  My hair is longer, and I leave it everywhere now too."

"Si, pero, I don't think El ____(insert my husband's name) has to clean up after you nomas para usar el chower."  (I love it that all my relatives, all of them, call him "El ___").

I think about the mess I currently have at home.  Dust, and a floor that needs to be swept...

If she only knew.

She'd take me out with a swing of her purse.