Category: Laugh

Repairs

We began to take off, but with only three lugs attached to our tire and pulling a boat, MP knew we couldn’t make it very far.  Kanab was an hour away, but Page was only 20 minutes in the other direction.  Decision made.  We turned around and headed to Page.  J, our neighbor, began to complain and tried to convince MP to head to Kanab.  But to Page it was.  We found an after-hours service station and it just so happened that another car had pulled in in front of us and the mechanic was already on his way.  The mechanic arrived, looked at our vehicle, and said he would need to call for a part and began fixing the other vehicle.

So we waited and watched.  The mechanic was kind and showed the kids the tools and how to fix tires.  It was getting late and we were getting hungry.  Just as the mechanic was finishing, MP decided that we could go to a fast food place for some dinner.  When we went to pay the mechanic, we only had one check left.  (This is BDC—Before Debit Cards, people! The younger generation may never understand my pain here.)  Let me explain:  We had NO cash and now we had NO checks, and we were HUNGRY.  Thinking quick, MP sent me to the convenience store to see if I could get some cash off our credit card.

Red Dots

I went into the convenience store and asked if I could get some cash.  The lady at the register was a beautiful lady from India with a red dot on her forehead that I could not stop staring at.  Probably because I was trying to extract anything I knew about the Indian Culture and what it all meant……see what I mean, you get side tracked!  So I asked her if I could get twenty dollars.  She held up her hand and said, “Five dollah.”

I said, “No, I’d like TWENTY dollars, please.”

“Five dollah.” she said again.

I was beginning to cry thinking that they were only going to let me have five dollars and I couldn’t feed all of us on that, and didn’t she know that we were in distress, and man did I look ugly, she probably thinks I’m homeless and crazy.  Now what am I going to do?

She must have picked up on my pitiful facial expressions and said, “five dollah, you twenty.”

The dim light bulb in my head went off!!  “Oh, you mean it will cost me five dollars to get twenty?”

“Yes.” Came the response.

Oh, what relief!!  “Okay, great!  Go ahead!”  I said, but in my mind I was thinking that this was highway robbery and they were getting a great return on their money.

On the Road Again

With my twenty dollars in hand, we headed to KFC and got everyone some dinner.  By now it was between 8:30 and 9:00 pm.  It was getting dark.  “At least everyone will sleep all the way home,” I thought.  Off we went.

We passed by Lake Powell (again) and the little gas station past that.  As a matter of fact we were just about to the spot where we had the flat tire when we heard, “THUMP, THUMP!!”

“OH NO!!  What in the heck could THAT be?” we wondered.  So we pulled over AGAIN!

MP gets out and checks.  The tire on the boat trailer had gone flat.  I’m not lying here.  I couldn’t make this stuff up!  Although, I did think it was sort of funny.  Not MP.  Not happy.

It was dark.  There was no light.  We had to fish the jack and the tools out again.  MP had to turn the flashers on so we wouldn’t get hit in the dark, but at least he had light every few seconds when the lights blinked.

MP put the jack under the frame and began to turn.  It wasn’t moving.  The boat was too heavy.  So MP unhitched the boat from the van to relieve any weight if possible.  Then he began turning again.  Nope, not budging.  Then J, our teenage neighbor tried.  Then MP tried again when “CRACK!”  The crank broke.

I think at this point MP was muttering obscenities under his breath.  I mean, now what were we going to do?  We had nothing.  And for some reason, there was not a car on the road.  I kept asking MP if I should flag down some help.  He wasn’t about to, because he’s a man and all, but me—no pride!  I wasn’t afraid!  So I decide that was IT!  I was flagging down the next car that came by and stood in the road just so they wouldn’t miss me!!  (Listen, intelligence flies out the window when one is desperate.)

With some luck and a little prayer, the next vehicle stopped and you will not believe this!! It was a MECHANIC!!  With a REAL JACK!!  This man and his wife were just heading home from repairing a tire for someone stranded at that little gas station 10 minutes behind us.  Were we ever blessed??!!!  He put that sweet jack under the boat, cranked it up, and pulled out the spare tire only to find out that it didn’t fit.  Well, if you turned it the wrong way, it fit, so we took the chance.  I mean, we had no other choice.  Just as they finished putting the tire on, a Highway Patrolman stops.  (Just in the nick of time, right?)  He left and we thanked the couple profusely and hopped in the van.

MP turns the key and the battery was dead!  Some things just aren’t funny at 10:30 at night.  But we were feeling a little better seein’s as a mechanic is behind us.  I hurried and jumped out of the van and ran back to the mechanic couple before they could leave and asked them for a jump.  I really was thinking, “This is so funny and NO ONE will believe us!”  I mean really—TWO flat tires and dead battery!!  It seemed like the story of stories.  A fish tale.

BUT, it was still a long way home.  We were drowsy and tired by the time we hit Kanab. I think I had even dozed off myself.  MP said that he was having a hard time staying awake, too, so we stopped in Kanab for some treats and water to keep us awake.

We took off again and were eating our snacks.  We were listening to the radio, and I was thinking, “Boy, it does help to keep eating a little something and this radio show is interesting.  I should be able to stay awake for a little while.  MP seems to be doing good.”  We were on a straight stretch of land.  I could see a long way up ahead some car lights coming toward us.  Off to the sides were these beautiful red hills.  I was thinking how beautiful this country is even in the dark  when all of a sudden, MP JERKS the van to the right and swerves to the shoulder of the road as a car was passing us.

I thought, “OH MY GOSH!!  What is the matter NOW??!!”  A few children even began to stir as MP yelled, “DID YOU SEE THAT TRAIN??!!”

“A…..WHAT?  A TRAIN?”  I look at MP.  “You have REALLY lost it!!  What are you talking about……a TRAIN?”

MP shakes his head.  “That is so weird.  I was looking at that car up ahead and was watching the lights and I fell asleep or something; and when they came close and passed us, I thought it was a train that was going to hit us.”

That’s what you get for cursing, I guess.  It just messes with your mind.

We finally made it home.  It was 2 a.m.  MP struggled staying awake for the last 45 minutes.  I did, too.  He was sticking his head out the window—doing everything he could to keep himself awake.  Poor guy.  Now if I would have been driving, he would have been WIDE awake.  He cannot sleep when someone else is at the wheel, especially me.

This was the first of many vehicle stories for us.  However, we always watch for trains when we’re traveling to Lake Powell.  Never seen one since that night.  It was a gift.  Like a UFO.

Although I had heard countless descriptions of trips– the grandeur, the beauty, the fun– and although I only live 3 hours away, I had never been to Lake Powell.  My first trip there came for a couple of reasons.

1.  My cousin worked for my husband and was a Lake Powell junkie.

2.  My hubby’s company had done some work for friends who wanted to trade out the pay for a trip on the houseboat.   So my cousin helped arrange for the trip and we took all the couples from the shop.  This is where our “Boating Vacations” began.  (Think Griswold here.)

We had so much fun on that first trip that the next year we decided to go as a shop again and take our families.  Some more remodeling work and some more trade later, we were set to go for a couple of more years.  We planned the trip for August.  Nice and hot.

We owned a van that was having some brake problems, so it was necessary to have them worked on before the big trip, at the last minute, of course.  We picked up the van the night before we were going to leave.  The next morning, we finished loading, hitched our “new hillbilly boat” (an old boat acquired through trade which is another story in and of itself), and set out for Lake Powell.  We had four kids at the time and also had our 16 year old neighbor, whom I’ll call  “J”), in the van with us.  J worked for my hubby, too.

As we began driving, Mr. Perfect said, “These brakes don’t seem to be working quite right.  They feel funny.”  We shrugged it off as “new brakes needing to be worked in.”  As we turned onto the Boulevard (about 10 minutes from our home), there was a big BANG under my seat, and the brakes went to the floor.

Fortunately, it was early in the morning when we left, so there wasn’t much traffic.  We negotiated to the end of the Boulevard and turned into the Ford Dealership to have them fix whatever they didn’t do right the day before.  Everyone was antsy and anxious to be on the road.  But here we sat in the Ford dealership for 1 ½ hours waiting for them to finish all the brakes.  By about 10 a.m. we were finally on our way again.

We made a quick stop in Hurricane for some more stuff, then we were off, and made it to Lake Powell without a hitch.

We had a wonderful weekend on the lake!  Here’s proof:

The Fun Begins

We had everything loaded up and started to head for home.  We left about 6 p.m. because we wanted to get home early enough to get everything unloaded that night.  Little did I know that the brakes had been the omen for the remainder of the trip.

About 15 minutes from Lake Powell, we heard a POP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP!  We pulled off the road to find that the back left tire on the van had gone flat.  Technically, this should be no problem, we could change a flat!  We just had to find the jack first.  Let me help you understand the scene:  we’re all sunburned, scaggy-haired, ugly, and tired. The kids had just started going to sleep. The van is LOADED with crap.  So is the boat which is hitched to the van. We’re on a busy stretch of highway and have to keep the kids in the car (think over 100 degrees here), and we had to find the jack.  Yes, I repeated myself.  Finding the jack is imperative to changing a tire and we didn’t know where it was.

In my perfect angelic manner *smile, polish halo*, I wanted to maintain a positive attitude so I could show our teenage neighbor how to have a good attitude in a frustrating situation.  Little did I know!

First, we had to unload part of the things out of the back of the van to get to the jack.  Then we had to unhitch the boat because of the weight.  Then we realized that this was a little dorky jack that had a thin metal bar crank.  No problem, have a good attitude, get started.  So MP, my hero, did just that.  He positioned the jack and started to crank. Then came the time to loosen the lug nuts; typically not a problem unless they have been screwed on wrong with a power wrench.  MP, the buff man that he is, had no other choice than to break three lug nuts just to get the tire off.

Now, here was MP, sunburned and lying on a hot asphalt road that had recently been tarred and rocked.   I was feeling so bad for him, thinking how painful that would have been to be lying on the ground with those hot rocks smashing my sunburn.  Truly, MP was my hero.  Just to keep the mood light, I made some wifely comment about how he wouldn’t win any competitions at changing tires so quickly like they do at the racetracks.  It didn’t receive quite the funny reception I thought it would.  So I stood there wondering if I could hand him tools or something to be helpful.

After finally getting the tire off, we couldn’t find the spare.  Honestly, it’s large, how do they HIDE these things??  Finally MP realized that the tire was UNDER the van—in its belly so to speak.  MP was laying on the ground again, and shimmied under the van trying to unscrew the tire, but it wouldn’t come out. (Make sure you add children whining and questioning and trying to get out of the van all through this commentary.  It adds truth to the moment.)  He finally put me to use finding the owner’s manual and trying to find the secret code and ritual to the spare tire release.  At this point, I was wondering if it included the words, “Oh Mighty Isis!”

Alas, our search turned up the valuable information that the little wimpy jack crank held the secret powers.  Somewhere inside the van, you place this crank and turn.  Voila’, you’re spare tire lowers. Thank you to the Secret Combination Gods. NOW, we could make some good time.  MP put the tire on, twisted the nuts on the remaining lugs, loaded up the crap, hitched up the boat, and climbed back in the van.  It had taken approximately ONE hour.  Needless to say, MP was a little irritable.  I, on the other hand, was still trying to be Miss Positive, but still knew better than to say a word, when our little daughter, from the back of the van said, “Where did you get the new tire, Daddy?”  (Aww…so sweet!)

“FROM HELL!”  He responded abruptly.  MP never swears.  Never.  This caught everyone off guard, except for the little kids in the back who couldn’t hear him anyway, who asked, “What did you say?”

In my mind, I’m thinking, “Yea, that’s pretty much where he got it from.   Can’t argue with that,” as I look at him and we both start laughing.  I notice little tiny rocks stuck to his shoulders with tar.

We’re not done.  Oh, no!  To be Continued…….

The Best is Yet to Come

The next morning I had a meeting.  I was still upset over what had happened and decided to tell my group the story.  Why?  I do not know.  Maybe I thought they would tell me I was still a good mom or put their arm around me, which I needed.   As I began to tell the group this story, one of the ladies said, “THAT WAS YOU??!!”

“You heard this story already?!” I asked in unbelief.  I hadn’t told anyone, so I couldn’t figure out how anyone knew anything.

“Yes, I heard this story,” she replied.  “My husband was in Hurst’s last night and everyone was talking about the lady that left her baby there!  They said it was Lisa Frei.”

Now you need to understand that there are two Lisa Freis in my town.  They are both my cousins and beautiful wonderful women, but in my quick thinking mind, I said, “That’s who it was!!  Just remember that…..Lisa Frei.”  Of course, I was being funny, but at least there were TWO of them to share the blame.

Back to Hurst’s– Yes, I’m Crazy!

That afternoon, I went back to Hurst’s to thank the ladies for helping me with my baby, to apologize, beg forgiveness, and, as a side note, to get some fabric for curtains.  This time my oldest was in school, so I had the baby, and my two girls who were 2 and 3, almost 4.  We went into the store and up the stairs to the fabric department when my 2 year old needed to go to the bathroom.  The 3 year old told me she would take her, that she had to go, too. I was a little concerned because the bathroom was down the four stairs and to the right at the end of the aisle.  Being small, I wasn’t sure if they could remember how to get there, but the oldest assured me she could find it, having been there before.  I told them that I would finish figuring out the amount of fabric for them to cut, then would be right down.  So off they went.  I began to calculate numbers in my head when not only I, but the entire store, heard the most blood-curdling screams.  Thinking my daughter’s had run into a cockroach or something at the bottom of the stairs, I asked the clerks if it would be okay for me to leave my baby there, promising to come right back and get him, so I could see what happened with the girls.

“Of course,” they replied.   They were SO nice!

I met my daughters along with two other store employees at the bottom of the stairs, just a few feet from where I had been, but just out of view of the material counter.  There was some remodeling going on in the store.  At the bottom of the stairs, directly to the right, they were re-tiling the floor.  They had it roped off with yellow caution tape and had glued up the floor waiting for it to dry a little so they could lay the tile.  Obviously, my girls couldn’t read, so they took the shortcut under the tape.

The Shortcut– It’s a little Sticky!

Now my girls were in these cute little “twinsie” sundresses and their Mickey Mouse house shoes.  Because Mickey was so fuzzy, he got stuck in the glue quickly.  So they did what anyone would do….Sit down and take the shoes off.  So here they were—shoes stuck to the glue, underwear stuck to their bottoms, dresses stuck to their underwear and they were screaming like banshees.   I’m thinking the glue is burning them because they were screaming so much.  The two workers helped me gather them and their shoes up and we took them up to the fabric counter where they gave me some scrap fabric to see if I could wipe them off in case the glue was burning them.  We wiped them up as best we could.  The ladies grabbed a plastic bag and threw their shoes in it.

Now I was in another predicament.  Its mid-July, over 100 degrees outside in our Southern Utah heat.  The girls have no shoes, so they can’t walk themselves to the car.  I have a purse, a baby in a car seat and two girls to try and get to the car.  Running in bare feet was not an option—way too hot.  So I did what any reasonable woman would do— I called my hubby to come and help me out of there.

MP to the Rescue?

“Hello, MP?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m at Hurst’s and I have a little problem……”

“You’re at Hurst’s??!!”

“….well, yes.  The girls got stuck in some glue and I was wondering if you were coming this way and could help me out?……”

“I can’t believe you went in that store again!!  YOU got yourself into this mess, YOU get yourself out!!! And don’t you EVER go shopping again without getting a babysitter!!”  CLICK!

Well, it was obvious he wasn’t going to show his face in there ever again.  I didn’t want the ladies to hear that conversation either.  I was pretty embarrassed.  But now I needed to get out of there and QUICK!  But how?  I was ready to burst into tears.

To this day, I’m not sure how I made it out.  I’m pretty sure one of the employees helped me carry the kids to the car.  What I do remember was driving to MP’s shop, stripping all the glued-up clothes off the girls and putting them in the plastic bag with the house shoes, and chucking the whole thing in the dumpster, and crying and thinking all the way home, “I am the worst mother ever and I’m never going shopping again!”

That night, I went to a wedding shower with my mom.  I was telling her what happened and by now was giggling about it, when one of the ladies in front of us, who had been listening in, turned around and said, “THAT WAS YOU?”

For gosh sakes……“How did YOU hear about this?”  I asked, perplexed at how the story had again traveled out of my circle.

“Well, I was at the Nutrition store last night (around the corner from Hurst’s) and people came in there from Hurst’s talking about the lady who left her baby at the store.”

Talk about embarrassing.  But at least the people in the Nutrition store didn’t know who it was.

Lessons Learned

If there is a lesson to be learned, it would be this:

1.  Always count your children, even if you think only irresponsible parents could forget one of their own offspring.

2.  Superman (aka: your husband) does not always show up in times of distress like he does for Lois Lane.

3.  When your husband says, “I’m going home and taking the kids,” make sure he takes ALL of them or clarifies which ones he is taking.

4.  Be prepared to tell these stories at ward parties or in big groups of people who need a good laugh.  (As if you were a stand-up comedian or some freak circus act!)

5.  People don’t forget.  It’s been 21 years since this occurrence and people still ask me, “Aren’t you the one who left your kid?”

“I think it was Lisa Frei,” I respond.  Even though across my forehead a bright neon sign flashes in hot pink, “YES!  IT WAS ME!  I LEFT MY KID!  We are getting psychological help!”

I’ve been branded for life in hot pink neon.

Here’s a picture of them just a month or two before this event.  They are with their great-great Grandpa taking.  We were taking 5th generation photos that day.  Just want you to get a feel for how cute and little they were at this time…..

 

One nice hot Monday in July 1991 Mr. Perfect and I had decided to invite one of his employees over for dinner and for Family Home Evening.  Having moved into our new home a few months before, I decided that I needed to grab a little decoration for our home while on my way to make copies for our lesson that night.  I took my then four kids, ages 3 months, 2, 3 & 5, to run the errands with me.  The first stop was Hurst’s Ben Franklin, the local variety store.  Mr. Perfect had done some work for them and had some trade there, so I thought it would be great to pick up a couple of silk plants and vases to spruce up the living room.

 

Upon arriving in the store, we ran into my mother.  The kids jumped up and down and yelled at seeing Grandma, then began running up and down the stairs with more energy than all of us put together.  I also arranged to meet Mr. Perfect there which added to the kid’s excitement.

 

I was holding the baby, Scout, in his car seat and it was getting really heavy.  I sat him on the counter that I was standing next to while asking the ladies there for help.  Mr. Perfect became so frustrated with the kids running around that he announced to me, “I’m going home and taking the kids!”

 

Well, that was a relief, since I was in a hurry to get things taken care of for the evening anyway.  MP told me the procedure I had to go through to check out since we were doing a trade, then he left.

 

With his instructions running through my mind to keep things straight, I quickly made my selection, and gathered up my goods and made my way to the checkout.  I raced to the car, ran to make my copies and hurried home knowing I was already behind schedule, our guest was probably there at the house, and I didn’t have dinner started.

 

As I pulled in the driveway and got out of the car, I was met by MP who quickly asked me if I had forgotten anything.  I started running through the list in my head, hoping I hadn’t but couldn’t come up with anything.  I looked at him inquisitively and said, “No, I don’t think so.  What?”

 

He then asked me, “Where is the BABY?”  I began to think backwards….”he wasn’t in the car.  I couldn’t remember taking him out or leaving him in the car at the copy store….”  Then interrupting my thought process, MP snapped, “YOU LEFT THE BABY AT HURST’S!!!”

 

“WHAT??!!!”  I replied.  Then my heart began beating out of my chest.

 

“I received a call a few minutes ago.” MP said.

 

“Is Denise Webster there?”

 

“No she isn’t.  May I take a message?”

 

“This is the manager at Hurst’s.  When do you expect her home?”

 

“Well, she was just at your store, and……”

 

“Yes, I know that.  She left her baby here.”

 

“WHAT?? Is he Okay?”

 

“Well, yes, but he woke up and we had to give him a little water, if that’s all right.”

 

“Uh, sure it’s all right.  I’m sorry.  She had to run another errand.  Maybe she will remember and pick him up in a few minutes.”

 

I pulled up shortly after this conversation.  Now remember, this was in the BC days (before cell phones) which is why I believe cell phones were invented—for mother’s like me!  Fortunately, at that time, the town was still small enough that you knew most everyone, and the workers in that store had gone to school with MP and I, so they knew us.  Still, that didn’t calm my heart from pounding out of my chest.

 

MP was frantic because I had been so long and had forgotten the baby.  I was frantic because not only had I left the baby, but on top of it, our company was there and I hadn’t started dinner.

 

Like a nice wife, I sent MP and the guest to pick up the baby for two reasons:  1.  I was extremely embarrassed, and 2.  MP had no idea how to start the dinner.

 

I don’t think my heart quit pounding for about 3 or  4 hours, and I couldn’t put that baby down after that.  I had to hang on to him!  I didn’t even trust myself.

 

If would be nice if the story ended here, but it just so happens that it doesn’t.  It gets better.

Continued……

What I would like to accomplish on All About Becoming A Good Parents is to share some stories of Motherhood.  As a young girl, my only dream was to become a mother and have a family.  I wanted to be the BEST mother in the world, loved and adored by her spouse and children.  Somewhere, sometime following marriage and the birth of my children, reality set in.

I soon found out that I was not perfect and things didn’t always go as I planned, like my kids sitting reverently in church perfectly dressed.  No, I found out that finding matching socks was like playing a long game of “Concentration” and finding your kids Sunday shoes was like playing “I spy.”  Shirts weren’t tucked in or pressed, ties were crooked, combing hair proved to be futile because it was messed up before leaving the house, brushing teeth out of the question, and if your brother touched you, you had to (by law) slug him even if half of the church was watching.

At times discouraged with myself and my abilities, I kept my head above water with a sense of humor and a camera and a good husband.  Now that I am in the downhill side of child-rearing and moving into Grand-mothering, I feel like I can offer hope, help, and humor to those of you who are in the process of raising your families.

I will be starting with stories from years ago when my older kids were little, just to set the stage for all the funny stories to come, and will also add the new funny things as they come up.  For years, we have considered ourselves “The Griswold’s.”  We have so much material, that we could have several movies made…we’ve actually thought about it……

I start first with the story that made me famous.  While we still laugh about this story and this story STILL gets passed around, at the time, it wasn’t so funny. ;o)  Just know up front that I am a Mom who loves her kids more than anything in the world! Click here to read it…