The action (to bring home the kid)

Two weeks before her last day of college I received an email from the storage company. Actually the email was to Madison, but the company always sends a carbon (so to speak) of any communication to the people with the money parents. This email told Madison when and where to pick up her boxes. After that I received an email a day telling me I should probably log on to my account and add some additional boxes "just in case". Everyday I texted Madison and reminded her to get the boxes. On the next to last day she did, and she sent me a picture so that I would "calm down". FYI: Those two words tend to do the opposite.

The boxes didn't look very big to me considering all of the shit stuff I could see piled up around the boxes in the photo, but she assured me they were fine. Then to prove it so I could "calm down", she sent me pictures of one box holding all of her winter clothes. I asked if she thought we should add additional boxes, she told me no, and I continued asking that question for a few more days. I also worried about carrying two suitcases inside of two suitcases, because although Southwest Airlines allows two free bags per passenger wasn't that really four bags? Husband and daughter pooh poohed that, but I told husband to stick around the drop off at the airport just in case.

My flight left at 6:05 in the morning. Let me say that again...IN THE MORNING. That is what I get for allowing my husband to book my flight. We had to stumble up at 4 o'clock and even the dog thought we had lost our minds. I was at the airport by five, through security by 5:30, and in my seat and buckled by 5:45. That was when I also discovered that I had gone through the entire airport with 90% of my blouse unbuttoned. At 5:55 the flight attendant announced that our pilot was a no show. At 6:10 he announced a back up was on the way and that we could get off of the plane, but "stay right near here" because when the back up arrived the plane would be leaving. That scared me enough not to get off the plane, and I spent the next two hours trying to sleep in the three seats I had all to myself. I did not sleep.

The back up, a woman Captain, arrived to much fanfare as we all clapped and hooted and hollered. She got right down to business and we were in the air in a few minutes. The flight to my daughter's college is anywhere between one hour and twenty/forty minutes depending on tail wind and other nonsense that I just nod my head to when announced. I finished my crossword puzzle, did the sudoku, visited the outhouse bathroom, and I was in North Carolina. It took me ten minutes to recover my "wink wink" two suitcases, and then I set about trying to wheel those two and my carry on luggage through the airport, outside across the street, and down the lane to the rental car shuttles. People standing in line for limos and shuttles didn't care that I was struggling and they refused to move back a step as I maneuvered cases, cursing, and muttering.

When I finally got to my shuttle pick up I let out a huge WHOOSH of relief, and the guy next to me, who had been in front of me in line to get on the plane, struck up a conversation. He continued the conversation while we waited, while we got on the shuttle, while we drove on the shuttle, and it wasn't until a seat finally opened up that I got away from him. I texted my friend Kelly my unbuttoned blouse situation, and she responded with glee that I was actually in North Carolina having heard about our AWOL pilot.

Kelly: "Did the back up arrive or did a small group of passengers band together and fly the plane themselves?"
Me: "I flew the damn thing with the knowledge I've learned through countless episodes of television, and I did it with my purple blouse unbuttoned! Go me! Wonder Gal!"

The shuttle driver stopped, jumped out, mumbling things about National and Alamo, and thinking I was suppose to get off I hauled my cases off of the shuttle with help from no one. The driver who stood below me on the pavement asked me if I was National, and when I replied Alamo, he sadly shook his head, looked at my three suitcases (guess what buddy, there are really five!), and told me I could walk it wasn't far. Then he jumped back into the shuttle and drove two arms length to the front door. I tried hard to beat him there, but the wheels on one of the suitcases refused to cooperate and the carry on handle kept pinching my hand between it and the other suitcase handle. I did get inside the place before the entire bus emptied out, and I stumbled into a long line where I released my hold on the cases which promptly fell over. I righted them while the line moved forward, and then I had to start all over again moving forward with the cases, and of course, when I stopped the cases fell over again. This went on in quick succession for three rounds before the line stopped long enough for me to look down and notice that my blouse was once again unbuttoned and my breasts encased in my purple, lacy bra exposed for all to see. That explained my gentleman friend and the sad look from the driver, but it didn't explain the fact that neither one helped this obviously, poor, sad, overworked, unclothed woman!

From there things brightened. I got an upgraded car because they were out of the midsize. I had no traffic to the campus. My daughter was up and waiting for me to arrive. The dorm room, however, looked like a tornado had come through, and because I had been up since 4:00, had no coffee, and had only eaten four peanuts and five pretzels on the plane I was not at my best. Madison's roommate was packed and heading out so that meant that everything still in the room was ours, and we had to fit it all into five boxes and four suitcases. We started doing just that.

The storage company had sent an email that morning (I mean why send it earlier so people could prepare?) on how to pack and how the boxes could not weigh more than 50 pounds, yet another restriction that had me yelling like a crazy woman. Madison had one box already packed, but it weighed 500 pounds since she just threw things in it willy nilly, and so I started with that one unpacking it to lighten the load. Madison was doing her laundry because that's what this college kids does, waits until the last minute. I probably should blame myself, but I know I've taught her better and worked years on drilling that home. After a time, parents just have to let kids figure it out. I built all of the boxes, distributed the weight, folded laundry, packed suitcases, and may have done some yelling. Madison cleaned, packed boxes, moved laundry from washer to dryer, packed her trunk, went through her college notebooks, and tossed out stuff she didn't need anymore. She packed her books to ship back to Amazon. By the time we ran out of tape we had most of the work done.

We left. We ate, and I had coffee. We went to the UPS store and stood in line with other college students to ship her books. We stopped for more tape. We debated on going back, but deep down we knew we had to finish. The storage company was coming to pick up the next morning between 8:00 - 10:00 and the dorm closed for the summer at 10:00. We had to keep chugging. We went back and seriously got to work. By the time we were done it was almost six. We stacked up the boxes with the lightest on top.

Me: "We are so not going to make the 50 pound limit. I wonder what the upcharge will be."
Madison: "Oh, please. I've seen these guys. They are college kids with dollies who will come in here and shove it under the boxes."
Me: "There is probably a weight counter on the dolly."
Madison: "Uh, no. Mom, please. We will be fine."
Me: "The suitcases are probably over 50 pounds too and the airline will charge for that too."
Madison: "The suitcases are not over 50 pounds. They are fine. Calm down."

We locked the doors, checked into our hotel, showered and were in bed and asleep by 9:30 pm.