Home Again, Home Again

We made it over the Pass and back without having to chain up, running out of gas, locking our keys in, having the car towed, or hauling a damaged kid to the emergency room. To me, that’s a successful weekend. I didn’t sleep well and had an attack of allergy/cold symptoms, but am happy to be home. I hope my hubby is also.

It was a hard weekend on Steve. He didn’t have his normal routines. He didn’t know his way around or what the schedules were. Because of hard rain the night before our son’s tournament all the games started an hour late. As the day progressed, the games were starting later and later until we were some three hours delayed each game. The winds whistled down from the mountains dropping the temps into the mid-thirties with wind chill factors. Not fun for those who weren’t excited to watch kid’s baseball games to start with. Early spring games felt like late winter games.

Communication was tough with an Aspie already stressed out from unfamiliar routines and surroundings. There was a lot of questioning by Steve and ‘debates’ on semantics.

“The game is over and the kids are meeting with their coach for a few minutes. Would you like to go out to the car and warm it up, or wait here for our son?” I asked my hubby.

“Go to the car,” was his answer. So off he went with my keys and the dog.

Fifteen minutes later our kidlet and I reached the car. It was locked. And not running. Frost coated the windows.

I banged on the back window with my mittened hand. Finally I heard the locks ‘pop’ and I opened the hatchback so son could throw his cleats and gear bag in. I could see Steve shoving potato chips in his mouth.

“Why didn’t you start the car?”

“I didn’t think you liked me to drive,” replies he.

“I didn’t ask you to drive,” answers a shivering me. “I just wanted you to warm up the car! And why isn’t the dog on her dog bed in the back? Why is she in my driver’s seat?”

“Is she?” questions hubby, turning to face our dog with his nose to her nose.

“Ummm, yes, I believe that is her right there next to you,” annoyed wife responds.

I admit I was cold and tired, and my racking cough was worsened by the frosty air. I wasn’t in the mood to play ‘but I didn’t think you meant’.

I repeated the same basic choice to Steve the next day after our last game, and this time he chose to walk our son to the car. Ten minutes later he arrived with no kid.

“Where is he?” I asked, a bit panicked, as there were some 300 ballplayers plus families and friends in a huge sea of cars and trucks. When I asked Steve why he didn’t bring our son out he said that he thought I said that our son would be with me. I jumped up on the bumper of my car on sentry duty as I sent hubby off to scour the crowds for him.

Turns out that our son was still in his after-game team meeting. Hubby looked all over but didn’t go back to the dugout. He did phone me several times, which was good. He often forgets that communication tool.  I called several other parents who let me know that the meeting was still in session. They sent our kidlet out to our car at the meeting's completion.

Ten minutes later hubby wandered back to the car flustered and angry. "Why did you have me looking for him when he was already here?" he demanded.

Steve had no answer as to why he called me several times to ask if son was back at the car yet, but didn't answer his phone when I did call to let him know our kid was back.

Hmmm. Communication breakdown. Led Zeppelin. Good music. Bad habit for family life. I’d rather listen to music. Laugh (cough) out (cough cough) loud (gasp).

Why is there an elephant sitting on my chest?