There on my cell phone on the kitchen counter were a bunch of symbols. Meaning that I had missed some calls and texts and Sprint wants to load some software on my phone and the temperature has showed up as 27 degrees for five days now. But wait...there was a text from the #1 son. Haven't heard from him since Feb. 12. That's EIGHT DAYS! And the poor thing said, "Call me when you get out of school." The time was 2:51. He knows we get out at 2:56 by our clock, which is 2:51 in the real world. AND I HAD NOT RESPONDED TO HIM! It was now 6:00!
So I tried to call him. Something must be wrong, right? For him to want my immediate response? There was no answer. My phone was acting all wonky, so I called three or four more times. No answer. Voice mail. Of course I did not leave any. I'm his mother, by cracky! I don't leave voice mail. What am I going to say? "You aren't answering your phone! Are you okay? Are you unconscious? Are you dismembered? Are you locked up? Does your head hurt? Do you have a fever? Is your heart broken?" No. No message.
I went back to read the text again. "Call me when you get out of school. I need you to send me something." Oh, no! Should I have mailed something after school so he will get it sooner? Now it will be Saturday at noon before I can mail it. And the weather is supposed to be bad! What is it? Medicine? Money? Tax info? Insurance card?
I called some more. No answer. Farmer H came in. "Your son has left a message, and now I can't reach him. I hope he hasn't decided to try and drive home tonight because I didn't respond! The weather is terrible!"
"Yeah. There's a fine mist right now. It's freezing on the windshields. I hope he has more sense than that."
"He always picks the worst times to rush home. Why else won't he answer? He would be in the middle, where there's no phone reception. Or maybe he's sleeping and can't wake up. Or maybe he's working on the solar car."
"Here. I'll text him." Because of course he would answer Farmer H's text but not mine, right?
I got The Pony's supper. Told Farmer H he could have leftovers. Choice of Casey's pizza. Chili. Or new food. A flatbread Devil's Playground pizza, or hot dog, or hamburger, or some of the tuna salad I was thinking about making for myself. Or a can of sardines in mustard sauce. Seriously. You would think Farmer H would be losing weight. I only named the simple things he could get for himself. Because I was preoccupied with contacting #1.
"He didn't answer."
"Maybe he'll see that I called and get back to me."
So I took a can of sardines in mustard sauce and a big pretzel roll and some pecans down to my dark basement lair to sit by the phone. BINGO! The minute I started eating, #1 called.
"I see you have frantically been trying to contact me numerous times over the past hour. I was holding interviews for next year's RA candidates. I got this break by a stroke of luck, because the girl who was scheduled did not show up. I need you to send me something. Tell The Pony to look around my desk, but I think it's up in the attic. Send him up in the attic to look for...
...my joystick that I used on my computer airplane-flying game."
Yeah. All that for just this.
I'm about ready to turn in my Mom Card. The stress is nearly too much.