…when the child (THINKS she) becomes the parent

Our high school football season has been the embodiment of the term “shit show” from the outset. From not knowing if we’d even have a season (Covid… you ignorant slut) to being down to our 3rd-string quarterback (who is doing a pretty nifty job under center) to Cal starting the season with a knee injury (who said baseball is safer?) to then spraining his shoulder in the 2nd game (ok maybe football is more dangerous).

Anyway – shit show is a mild understatement. Cluster-fuck is closer but still not adequate. And yet… there was a fight to the death over the 2 tickets we had for 3 people. Ok, it wasn’t to the death, but only because Dan realized he’d spend the entire first half driving to the game and subsequently bowed out (when he lamented that the most rational solution was for him to stay home, I subtly slid the shiv I’d been carving, back under my pillow).

True to the tone of the year 2020, the game was over 90 minutes away and the weather was creating treacherous conditions – in October. Now… those of you who know me well, know how much I love watching my boy do anything in a sports arena – I mean I love watching ALL of my kids do ANYTHING but… my boy. on a field. is going to propel me to Chunky Soup or Subway commercials – I just KNOW it.

But I gotta admit – when he texted to tell me the home team had 2+ inches of snow and it was still coming down – I started to question exactly HOW MUCH I love to watch him (especially considering we could live stream the game right to our tv – complete with recliners, beer and forced-air heat).

And then… this….

I literally would’ve snow-shoed the entire 76 miles after that exchange.

The good news is: there was actually no snow

The bad news is: we got creamed

My favorite news is: my boy did KINDA go all Shady McCoy out there

(And at this point I’m hoping against hope that “Shady McCoy” is not some kind of derogatory term that I should not only NOT be repeating but should be beating my kid’s ass for using)

Anyway, back to the premise of this wildly tangential story…

I had texted Pop earlier in the day to tell him he was the lucky fan who won the other ticket and told him to be at our house for a 5pm departure. When he got here he said, “I can drive.”

I countered (a little too firmly), “I’ll drive.” He shrugged and walked out to my car; I was grabbing my gear, thinking… ‘it’s happened, I’ve taken over the role of parent in our relationship.’

When I got to the car Pop looked at the clothes I was tossing into the back and asked, “What’s all that?”

I raised my eyebrows and got my best condescension on, “uhhhh… it’s cold up there but I don’t want to sweat during the drive…”

Pop waved me off, “that shit ain’t gonna help – I brought you a pair of hunting coveralls and a coat, there’s gloves in the pockets.”

I stubbornly laid my stuff on top of his camo offerings – ’cause I clearly know more than him, see:

For reference you need to know – masks were not required. Look at my eyes… I’m literally frozen into a state of disbelief.

After sitting in bitter cold for 3 hours, watching a beat-down, we decided to stop for some coffee to warm us up on the ride home.

“I need to grab my wallet – unless you have cash.”

“Karen Lynn, I ALWAYS have cash.”

When we got in line he looked at my choices, “Hot chocolate and twizzlers? How friggin old are you, again?”

I scrunched my face up and snapped, “I like sugar….”

As we got to the counter something caught my eye, “oooh gobstoppers!” and I laid them on the counter.

“What are you – 7?”

I grabbed my loot and stomped out to the car.

I was crashing from my sugar high as we pulled into my driveway. Pop got outta the car and said, “I love how you’ve decorated your new patio – the empty beer bottles are a classy touch.”

Without missing a beat I said, “They’re Josh’s.”

Now here’s the thing – our friend Josh had actually contributed to the empties but A) I’m 50, B) my father is well aware that I drink beer and C) I paid for the new patio. I’m not sure what compelled me to blame somebody else.

The next day I sat and thought back to my evening with Pop. The evening that started with me feeling a tinge of sadness at the thought we were reversing rolls. And then I got a pretty good giggle goin’ when it occurred to me that the man had brought me warm clothes without me asking, paid for my hot chocolate and candy and then I lied to him about beer bottles.

Meh… I prolly shoulda let his old ass drive…