Taken up a notch

I am never late.

And for anyone out there who just read that first sentence and thought, “Ooooh . . . Kris is pregnant!”

Consider yourself internet bitch-slapped.

Not fucking even.

Anyway.

I like to be on time.

And I like others to be on time.

For those of you who know me in real life?  All of those times you were late?  And I said it was no big deal?

Totally fucking lying.

Maj is like me.  But taken up a few thousand notches.

Maj thinks that I am a total fuck-up, and that without her help?  I will get confused and perhaps lie down on the kitchen floor and jingle the car keys to amuse myself.  Like a tiny sparkling wind chime above my head.

But Maj is on top of things, and so shit like that doesn’t happen.

Mostly.

And so thanks to Maj?  We are never late.

Plus also?  We are always crabby.

YAY!

Here we are, yesterday . . .

It always starts out so reasonably.

I say, “We’re going to pack a lunch and meet your aunt and uncle and your cousins at the lake today.”

And Maj says, “What time are we meeting them?”

And I say, “Around 12:30.”

“Around 12:30?  You know I don’t like the word around. So let’s just say that we will be at the park at 12:30.”

“Fine by me.”

“OK, do we have everything that we need for this time at the lake?  Or do we need to stop anywhere on the way?”

“I think we’re good.  Why?”

“I want to know what time we’re going to leave.”

“Geez, Maj . . . 12:15?  12:20?  It’s a short drive.  Somewhere in there.”

“OK, so we are leaving at 12:15.  That gives me a half hour to get organized.  Why did you wait until now to tell me about this plan?  You know I like to know the plan.”

“Seriously, Maj?  A half hour of you organizing me?  Is about all that I can take.”

Maj screams out into the house, “KALLAN?  KALLAN?”

Kallan appears, “Yeah?”

“We’re leaving for the lake at exactly 12:15.”

Kallan disappears for perhaps two minutes, returns, throws her beach bag and supplies in a pile next to the front door and runs out of the house, “There’s all my stuff.  I’m going to my friend’s.  Call me when it’s time.”

Maj looks at me, “You now have 26 minutes, and it seems like someone should point out that you are not even dressed yet.”

And so I get dressed.

Make a phone call.

Maj yells at me from downstairs, “If we are packing a lunch you better get on that, Mother!  You only have 17 minutes left before we are leaving!”

And so I go downstairs to pack a lunch.  Turns out we don’t have much to pack, and so I grab some snacks, and I tell Maj that we will just buy some hot dogs at the park.

Maj is annoyed, “Didn’t I ask you if we needed anything?  Didn’t I ask you if we needed to stop anywhere along the way?  Why didn’t you tell me then that we had no food in our house?  Now we need to leave in 11 minutes and we have no food.  Good planning, Mother.”

“An unexpected hotdog is not going to kill you, Maj.  You are all flexible and easy-going.”

I may have giggled here.

Her face is all cranky and stubborn, “You said we were going to pack a lunch, except now we don’t have things to pack for a lunch.  Don’t you see that there is a problem here?”

I reach into the back of the fridge, “Here’s what I can do, Maj.  I have leftover stew from a few nights ago.  You can eat that cold or you can just relax and eat a hot dog.”

“Stew? Stew, Mother?  Are you kidding me?  Fine.  I will eat a hot dog even though that is not the packed lunch that you promised.”

“Just because words come out of my mouth, Maj?  That does not make them a promise.”

“You have mentioned that before.  But I like to know what’s going to happen, and so you should be careful when you say things to me.”

Jesus . . .

“Maj?  I am already tired and we haven’t even left yet.”

She looks at the clock, “Five minutes, Mother.  We are leaving in 5 minutes.”

“Is that enough time for me to take a nap?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mother.”

I throw the snacks and drinks into a bag, grab my phone and my park pass . . . my purse.

Maj is standing by the front door, “We have three minutes, Mother!  Should I yell for Kallan to come back from the neighbor’s house?  It’s almost time to go.”

“Ummmm . . . wait just a second on that.  Just let me use the bathroom.”

Maj is all incredulity, “You were already in the bathroom!  What were you doing in there if you weren’t using it?”

“Jesus, Maj.  I have to pee.  I can take a minute here to pee or we can walk out of the door and I will pee in the driveway.  Your call.”

“That is disgusting, Mother.  Why are you being so disgusting?”

I stand and wait for her approval, “So I can use the bathroom, then?”

“Yes, fine.  Go pee, Mother.  I don’t know why you couldn’t have done this before, but go ahead.”

I can hear her yelling from the front door as I use the bathroom, “We are going to be late!  One minute!  We are leaving in 1 minute!  We are going to be late!”

Oh my god.

As we pull out of the driveway, Maj comments, “It’s 12:17.  I knew we were going to be late.”

I swing the car out of the driveway and onto the road, “We are not late, Maj.  Except in your own mind.  We are not late.”

“Yes, well . . . 12:15 is what we said.  And it is not 12:15.  It is 12:17.  Two minutes late.”

My sister and her husband and their kids?

They got to the park at about 1:00 pm.

They don’t have Maj.

Maj?

Was not pleased with them.

Sigh.

In related news?

Someone (who may or may not have been my sister) said to me yesterday, “Geez, I think I would have a really hard time being Maj’s mom.”

SNORT!

Maj is difficult.

She takes after me.

Love that girl.

She keeps me on my toes.

And thanks to Maj?

I am never late.