Shortman’s Day

Yesterday. Not a day that will go down as one of the best days of my favorite 16-year-old’s life. But let’s go back a couple of days even earlier, shall we?

—- Wavy Line Flashback to Wednesday, January 2nd —-

Shortman is a member of one of his school’s clubs this year. He hasn’t ever been a part of an academic club before. Baseball, soccer, football? Oh yes. Clubs with girls? Not so much.

Wednesday, they had a practice for the State of Michigan regional tournament. So, he dragged his ass out of bed around 11:00 and went up to school. Three hours later (3 hours of Word document creation and Excel spreadsheet analysis and web design) he came home and collapsed on the couch. An hour later, Mr. Hot woke him up.

And hoo-boy. Was Shortman sick. With one of those hacking croupy coughs and red-rimmed eyes, and snot draining out of his nose. Not a pretty sight, but Sudafed and a few seasons episodes of Futurama sent him off to dreamland for the night.

—- Wavy Lines Forward to Yesterday, January 4th —-

5:30 a.m. – Mr. Hot’s alarm goes off so he can get Shortman up. Shortman has to be at the school to catch the van taking them to the tournament venue. Which means he has to be out of the house by 6:30. And the cough? And the snot? Back in full force.

6:12 a.m. – I get out of the shower and stop at Shortman’s room. “You need to be out the door in 18 minutes. You’re not dressed. Your hair isn’t dry. You need to put your contacts in. Get moving!” “But I’m sooooo sick.” “Your team is counting on you! Let’s go!”

6:25 a.m. – “Mom, can you come here?” He can’t find his tie. And there’s clothing all over the room. And he has to put in his contacts. His hair is kind of dried in the usual moppy way that he dries it. He has his pants and shirt on. Oh and socks. With 5 minutes to go. I throw aspirin at him. (We’re out of Sudafed.)

6:27 a.m. – I find the errant tie; it had fallen behind his dresser. He comes out of the bathroom and throws the tie around his neck. I notice that his shirt is mis-buttoned. “Wait, let me fix your buttons. You missed a buttonhole at your collar.” I try unbuttoning all the way down the shirt. He mis-buttoned the very first button. Sigh. Untuck the shirt, tuck it back in. He puts on his shoes as he walks down the stairs. Mr. Hot, thankfully, has started the truck. “I’m sooooo sick.” “Shortman, don’t use your hand to wipe your nose.”

6:29 a.m. – Mr. Hot ties the tie. I look for his rules folder and his car keys. Give him a kiss goodbye. ” Be careful!”

6:31 a.m. – The truck is stuck. In the 10 inches of snow next to the driveway because Shortman’s “back up the truck” skills aren’t quite as finely tuned at 6:30 in the morning, in the dark, as they are at 7:30 in the morning, when it’s lighter. Mr. Hot runs out and gets it unstuck.

6:35 a.m. – Shortman is finally on his way. I’m upstairs hyperventilating.

6:50 a.m. – I grab my cell phone. There’s a message from Shortman that says “Just want to let you know I made it, and I’m in the van. I’ll call you later.” I remember that I forgot to check if he had money for lunch.

—- 8:54 a.m. —-

My cell phone rings and it’s Shortman. “Mom? Mrs. C (the driver and one of his teachers) got lost on the way here and we didn’t get here until 8:20. Then she told me the building my 8:30 event was in was down this road – but when I got there, they said the building I was looking for was in the other direction. So I missed my first event.”

Much commiseration followed. I made sure he knew where his next event was, told him to grab something to eat at the Student Center, and hung up.

—- 11:07 a.m. —-

“Well, I finished my last event. I coughed the whole time and my nose kept running. And now I have to wait until 4:30 and then the awards ceremony afterwards. There’s no tables empty to sit down.” “Well, why don’t you go by the bookstore and find a magazine, or find a comfortable chair and try to take a little nap?” “I don’t want to go back outside in the cold, so I’ll just wait until I can get a table.”

—- 7:00 p.m. —-

“Mr. Hot, where is he? They were supposed to be back at 6:45, and he’s sick and his phone goes right to voicemail and he didn’t answer my text messages.” “They probably stopped someplace for dinner. He’ll be here, he’s fine.”

Finally, (fi-nuh-lly y’all), he walks in the door. They stopped at McDonald’s. They came in 9th out of 30 schools. If he would have made it to his first event, they would have had a chance to place in the top 6. Which would have sent them to the State Competition.

Pure dejection. Oh, and snot. Lots and lots of snot. But he’s so damned cute.

—- Today, he’s been awake for a total of 2 hours. Vertical for about 5 minutes. And Christmas vacation is over in 2 days. And that was Shortman’s very sucky, not so happy, fairly awful, snot-filled, hacking cough day. —-