Comic Relief

This is a logistical nightmare and gets a lil' complicated . . . . . bear with me.

It started innocently enough . . . .

John and I were invited to a cookout for my brother and his new wife in Raleigh.  My husband travels a lot and had accumulated enough hotel rewards points to have a night out of town . . . for free.  Morgan and Chuck were at their dad's . . . could it be?  A night to ourselves?  Out of town?  Little did I know this "escape" would have me contemplating bodily harm . . . which brings me to another point:  there are countless websites, pamphlets, hotlines, etc. discouraging parents from shaking their babies.  Their teenagers?  Yeah, notsomuch.  Haven't found ONE!!

Those of you who know me and my family well, know that Chuck lives with his dad in Rocky Mount, NC. If I get to see him once a month during the school year, I consider myself fortunate. I relish the times when he is out of school and gets to stay with us for an extended period of time.

My sister calls and says she has offered for Morgan to follow her from Rocky Mount to Raleigh and back for the cookout; she and their dad live about 20 miles apart.  Morgan and Chuck will get to be there too?  How cool is that?!  I call their dad and offer for Chuck to come to Winston after all this is said and done.  I doubted this would fly, simply because he has been with us for a month already this summer.  I get a promising response:  "I'll talk to Chuck and see what he wants to do".  Suh-weet!!  So, I go in to this weekend thinking John and I will get a night away at a hotel in Raleigh (scandalous), Chuck and Morgan will come to the cookout, meet us back in Raleigh the next morning (a 45 minute drive), and we will go home as a happy little family on Sunday morning.  Riiiiight. 

The "talking to Chuck to see what he wants to do" never happened.  The excuse:  "Well, I mentioned it to Morgan and she didn't seem too thrilled with the idea, so I never mentioned it to Chuck."  I'm sorry, 'scuse me?  Oh, naw.  Hell naw.  Naw she di'unt. 

Um, Morgan is seventeen years old and doesn't get to make that decision.  She doesn't want her brother to come visit?  Tough shit!! 

That's it.  That's all it took and I was spun in to a realm of pissed off I haven't been in quite a while.  To spare you the long and grueling details, after a HEATED exchange with Morgan and her dad, we end up getting my teenagers a room directly across the hall from us, so they can spend the night and follow us back to Winston the next morning.  Because "logistical nightmare" seems to be Morgan's specialty.  Like I said, it's a long story.

We arrive at the hotel from the cookout.  I change my hot tired baby in to his PJ's and get him settled for the evening.  I walk out in to the hall to relay something to the other two, and that's when it happens:  I start laughing hysterically.  Chuck has donned a complimentary shower cap and has this indescribable grin on his face.  Goofy.  Funny.  Completely lovable. 

And that's when I know that we're okay.  We're all gonna be okay.  John and I will get over our disappointment, Morgan will live to see her next birthday, life goes on . . . .