The blog in which you be the judge. Am I overprotective?

We had this weekend planned from the moment my father caved and said that our Brody was allowed to come with us to the cabin.  We have never had a dog sitter for him, and honestly, we couldn't afford to board him.  We have come close to asking for help from friends, but never followed through with it.  So, this was the first long weekend, and while the kids had a furlough day yesterday, Friday, Geoff had to work all day, so we were either to leave for the cabin last night, or this morning.  Mom begged to take the migits with them yesterday afternoon, so at 3:PM, they were on their way.  I went and picked up Charlie's trampoline since it came in, and yes, in case I forgot to share with you guys, yes, we were approved to install it, through the home owners association, three days after I mailed the requested information on it.  I was feeling sorta' yuck with a headache I have had for a few days now, so since Geoff had to work late, again, and I was feeling "blah," we had subs for dinner and literally got into bed and was asleep within the hour.  I woke up in the middle of the night for a while, and then finally, at 8:AM, and turned to see Geoff beside me, eyes fixed wide open, and staring straight up at the ceiling.    I watched for a few seconds, and didn't see him blinking or his chest rising, so here's what flew through my head.  

1.  Is he dead?

2.  Glad the kids aren't here if he is dead. 

3.  I should stop thinking these thoughts and ask if he's alive.  

So, I did.  And he turned to me, and that's how the day started.  With a husband that was alive.  This is going to be a great day! 

Later, as I was drying off from the quickest shower in recent history, as my thought was, "The sooner we get there,  I might be able to save them from whatever danger Grandma might threaten them with... like, say, making them a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on white bread, or using a jelly with high fructose corn syrup.  So, I mentioned my thoughts to Geoff regarding the whole I thought he might have been dead episode, and he laughed and said, "We all have our quirks."  And all I could think was, "No, I'm all shades of messed up, and you at least have a diagnosis."  Poor, sweet man I married.  I love him so much.   

I noticed that I had a text from my mom from only ten minutes earlier.  It said, "Hope you had a good eve."  I responded, "Just up, rough night, kids up?"

Mom-Why rough night?  Yes, all up.  Breakfast done, vitamins and powder for Charlie is done. Kids happy, as are we."

Great.  Oh, wait. What?  Powder done?  Oh holy hell... I hope she didn't... uh, yep, she did.  See, Charlie has to have Miralax mixed into his drink every morning in order that he might have a regular bowel movement each day.  I immediately got that text, and called. You didn't give ALL that to him, did you?????  YEP.  She did.   However, I did not label the powder, and while it WAS Miralax, it was about 4 days worth of it since I just figured I would use it the entire time we were there, with a little extra in case I spilled, etc. Wow.  This should be a fun few days.  After spazzing out on her, all the while, she being super calm about the fact that my son has just received the equivalent to "Colon Blow," and not the least bit aware of what this can do to him.  

That brings her to a diversionary topic... 

Mom- We all had a great breakfast.  

Me-Oh really?  What did you have?

Mom-Bacon, egg and cheese scramblers with yogurt.  

*At which point, I think she knew that was her second mistake.  

Me- Oh really?  What type of yogurt?  Those little ones in the cups that generally have artificial sweeteners?  You know I don't approve of that.  

Mom- Honestly, it might have had that.  I don't know.  I threw them away.  But I thought it was such a small amount.. how bad could it have been for them?

Me- Well, I never allow that.  Not even a sip of a drink with it.  Not those darn Ragin' Waters that Capri Sun is marketing with cancer causing agents.  Not a taste of Grandpa's sugar free jello with the chemical that confuses the endocrine system.  None.  Not ever.  Not even a little bit.  

Mom-  Oh well.  It's done.  

Okay, at which point, I told her I had to go so that I can get up to the cabin before she starts pimping out my children in order to teach the value of money and starts asking the kids to light fireworks themselves to learn the dangers involved with explosives.  I think she heard me.  At which point, I hung up, and explained to Geoff that years of attempting to keep our children as clean fed as possible was ruined in a matter of 14 hours, with at least half of that time in bed.  So, off we went.

I have issues, and you all know that.  Driving more than thirty minutes out of my home area causes anxiety.  I know, it's weird.  However, the cabin is just about two hours away, so I had already gotten the scoop on the gas prices from mom calling every town they hit saying the prices went down as they went further north.  I started with about a half a tank, and 100 miles later, I was just a smidge lower on my gauge.  I thought, "I will go as far as I can before I panic about my gas, which I know is yet another anxiety inducer."  Well, it was like a freakin' modern day miracle, since the gas seemed to go longer than ever before!  Usually, the trip drops me almost half a tank!  WOW!  That was awesome. 

When we were about 20 minutes south of my parents cabin, Brody tossed his cookies, but because we had not fed him breakfast, and had given him three Dramamine, he only vomited a little, and Geoff had some cat like reflexes going, and caught it in a bag after he shoved his face in it.  (The dogs face, not Geoff's face.  But you knew that, right?)  So, no harm done, and we get to the town and find that the Ingles has its' own gas station, a new addition this past summer, AND a Starbucks!  I am giddy with myself.  Not sure why.  Seeing as we have at least two Starbucks near my home and I have only been to each of them once or twice.  However, a Frappachino sounds perfect.  For Charlie.  Seeing as we have already ruined his body with artificial sweeteners and colon blow.  (We will not mention the copious amounts of s'mores ingredients I allowed him to ingest after dinner tonight while sitting around the fire pit.)  

So far, I think we are having a good time.  If by "having a good time" means over medicating a grandson with laxative, giving children artificial sweeteners, a minute amount of pukage, the addition of a local Starbucks and cheap gas, no anxiety on the two hour drive, a mid afternoon nap, grilled steaks for dinner, s'mores for dessert, and the viewing of bats and hummingbirds.  That was just our first full day.  ;o)  Happy Labor Day weekend!  Be safe!  (And by safe, I mean- don't let Grandma be alone with the migits for too long.)

PS  So that my mom doesn't develop a complex... I love her, and honestly, I would never leave my children with ANYONE, besides them.  My parents love my children as much as any one could love two quirky little migits, and respect the parenting that Geoff and I implement.  They children are having a blast, and for that, I will let the colon blow, and all the other issues to slide.