After appearing as a a “subject” for a photographic exbition of women and their journey through adversity, speaking at the opening night event, where I made people laugh, and cry, and being told I was an inspiration by many (the blog post/review of the night is coming) it was nice to come home.
And being rapidly brought back to earth. Not just the rough landing, either. Nope …
I was greeted at the airport by my ten year old son. The one who should have been at a birthday party an hour ago.
Hrmm. I didn’t mean it, but my first thought was Far out! He’s been misbehaving and not allowed to go, and I really didn’t want to have to deal with this kind of stuff on my return.
“Why are you here?” I ask. And yes, the voice at the back of my head did say yeah, nice greeting for your son you haven’t seen for two days. That’ll make him feel real special.
He tells me he was told he couldn’t go until I was picked up. That he didn’t know why, because he thought he was being dropped off before the rest of the family came to get me. I told him that was what I’d arranged and that I was very cross.
The car comes around and Grumpy Pants gives me a look. And a kiss. But I got A Look first.
“We’ve been driving around for an hour and a half,” he tells me.
“But my flight was only 20 minutes late. And why is Monkey Boy still here? He should be at the party! He’s very late!!”
I get another Look. And handed his mobile phone. Which has my “am boarding now” message on it. And “See you at 1.30.”
Erm. Whoops. My flight was landing at 2.30.
(Your fingers are too fat for this keypad, please mash the pad with your fist to secure a dialing wand)
That would explain a lot. Drive straight to birthday part, me apologising profusely all the way, wrestle birthday gift from Chippie, slam door on his screams, race Monkey Boy in, do some more apologising to Birthday Boy’s Mum, who advises me its perfectly ok, one of the other kids only just arrived (his parents forgot – hurrah! There are worse parents than me! :D) and tells me to leave him there for a bit longer. To make up for it.
I’m unsure if she’s referring to the time he missed, or making up for having an incompetant mother …