On Saturday I decided that as a family we were going to do one more fun thing before this break was done. Dinner and a movie. The kids wanted to see Diary of a Wimpy Kid 2. Lies. I wanted to see it. #1 was so great I saw it three times.
Anyway, a snow storm struck and it took me three minutes to talk the man into staying home the whole day instead of coming home at lunch. Little did I know that that snowstorm would later become our demise. Or almost.
The Dabels Demise. Or almost.
The movie started at 2:15. We left at 1:30. The man took the side roads, opposite of what I would have done with 4 feet of snow on the ground. I would have turned as soon as possible to get to the main, plowed road, but not him. He is invincible. He took the side roads. When we turned a corner to get to the main road there was a moving van blocking our path. He had no choice but to turn into a cul-de-sac to turn around.
The cul-de-sac of chaos.
As he tried the actual turn around, which involved driving up on someone's piled high sidewalk, and their lawn, I said "Oh, don't do it, you'll get stuck."
We got stuck. Really stuck. He rocked and he rolled. He claims this is sure fire. (He taught me this trick the first winter we were married after I got our little Honda stuck three times. I have not been stuck again until this winter. Different story.)
After rocking and rolling for, I don't know, ten minutes, I thought to myself "when will he concede?"
Cul-de-sac members were peeking out of windows. People started to come out and shovel their walks, all the while keeping an ever vigilant eye on the damage being done by my mongo truck. And then some men appeared. Men who figured my man didn't know what he was doing. I wonder why they thought that.
Lots of advice (from them), lots of "I know's" (from mine).
Some digging, some shoveling and it was time to push.
They pushed us right sideways in between some vehicles and never was anyone so stuck in the history of stuck anyones.
"I need to go get my truck and pull us out," he says.
"Okay," I say.
Off he goes, on foot. It is snowing hard but it isn't cold so it's melting all over him.
I sit with the kids who by this time have had it. They want to speak but they know if they do they may lose their lives. Except for Amelia, who isn't old enough to understand the 'when dad is mad, kid zips lip' rule. She learned pretty quick.
Eventually, with the mad dad being gone, they got some nerve to speak. But sadly, their nerve only allowed for super annoying and not very intelligent things to come out of their mouths.
Everyone was hungry. It was 2:15, movie was starting. Lots of pushing each other's buttons. Lots of mom warning them to make smart choices. Lots of not listening. Lots of "get it together before dad gets back."
Holden started the 'I am going to the beach and I am taking.....' game.
Holden: "I'm going to the beach and I am taking a towel."
Jack: "I am going to the beach and I am taking a towel and sunscreen."
Cicely: "I am going to the beach and I am taking a towel, some sunscreen and a sandwich."
Me: "I am going to the beach, alone, with a diet pepsi and a book."
Them: "Mom!!! You lose!"
Me: "Yes. Yes I do."
My phone rings. It's the man.
"Do you know where my other set of truck keys are?"
"No. I don't," I respond ever so sweetly, noticing that he has used one of his sets to drive my truck. I also have my own set.
He hangs up.
A neighbour comes out to see what's up. We are stuck 5 feet from his shiny black truck. He offers to drive the keys over to the man. I call the man. He does not answer.
Into the mouth of the cul-de-sac enters a familiar truck. Not the man's truck but the neighbour's truck. Ahhhh, Mike. You really are a hero. After dropping the man off, Mike gets stuck in this cul-de-sac of chaos. Mike gets unstuck, shiny black truck man tells my man he'll pull us out and Mike drives off.
The man informs me that his other keys are in his truck's ignition and the doors are locked. Of course they are. The man also tells me that Mike got stuck outside of his house, as well, trying to give the man a ride over, which is why they took so long.
Mike will be getting cupcakes sometime this week.
Shiny black truck man hooks his rope to my truck. Pulls. Snap. Broken rope. Shiny black truck man drives my man home.
We wait. Again.
Man returns with his truck. Hooks us up. After numerous tries, pulls us to freedom.
It is 2:45.
I ask the kids what they want to do. I get four cranky responses and none of them are even remotely helpful. We begin to follow the man home when he stops to help some poor woman get her car unstuck. She is just beyond the perimeter of the cul-de-sac. The evil is oozing out.
Nobody knows what they want, they are completely befuddled by the bedlam. I am forced to make the ultimate decision about how we will spend the rest of our day. I can't bear the thought of being at home with these cranky kids and since I know sitting in a theatre will brighten, at the very least, my day I decide that we are off to the mall. Poo poo the rest of you, if that isn't what you want.
We go to the mall and eat in the food fair. We see Diary of a Wimpy Kid 2 at 4:50. We laugh.
After all, what other choice do we possibly have after a day like that?