Caroline and the Absolutely Horrific, Awful, Ain’t No Good, #NotEnoughWine Day

The other day, I wrote about The Weez’s Very Merry Unbirthday. Oh. My. Ga! That kid has luck just like me, if I believed in luck. Anyhoo, I briefly mentioned a recent massage misfortune in that post. Since the post was supposed to be about The Weez, I didn’t want to elaborate about me, but now I do. Here’s what happened.


This is SUCH a #notenoughwine kinda day.

First thing this AM, I misstepped in my shoe. Pretty sure that I broke something, but I’m going to ignore the snap-crackle-and-pop. I can still walk and besides, I’m achy allover and this discomfort is nothing. Feet aren’t important.

My muscles are spasming so much lately because of physical therapy for Achilles tendinitis. The physical therapist has been doing acupuncture. I LOVE it. It feels amazing, until it’s 2 hours later. My calf muscles have rebelled and are cussing me out every single minute of the day. They’re recruiting muscles from all over my body to join in solidarity and teach me a lesson. If your muscles have decided to knot up, let them be. They get very, very angry when you disturb them. To make matters worse, I’m playing tennis about 4 days a week. My muscles are seriously pissed. I need a break and need to feel better. It’s time to get a massage. Today, I left work early to do just that.

I’m high-tailing it . . . weaving in and out of traffic. MOVE IT BUDDY!! My local massage therapist is booked so I had to go 30 minutes out of my way during school dismissal traffic. Plus, I have to stop at the ATM to get cash to tip. If there is anyone you should tip, it is your massage therapist. This person is willing to massage your butt. He/she deserves a tip! HEY! I’m an equal opportunity massage therapist client and welcome anyone (who’s not a creeper) to give me a massage.

I was 5 minutes late to the appointment. FIVE, FREAKING MINUTES!! I mean, what more do you want, people?!?!?!?

Cue phone call.

No. I’m not answering this call.

CRAP. It’s The Weez. Maybe I should take this call.

All I hear is sobbing: desperate, devastated and forlorn. Her birthday is next Sunday. We were going to a concert to see her favorite bands: A Day To Remember & Bring Me The Horizon. Yep, they canceled their show.

Now, I’m technically 10 minutes late to the appointment. They bombard me that they’re behind now so they will end the session early. It did not dawn on me until AFTER I was undressed on the massage table: are they penalizing me by shortening my massage AND charging me full price?!? WTF? I can barely focus and relax knowing that The Weez is hurting and they’re giving me this crap?

Oh my ga! I NEED this massage, but that’s it. I jump up from the table and halt the session. Yes, I need this but I will NOT pay full price for an abbreviated session. I mean, I get it that I’m starting late and my end time will still be the same. But they don’t get to charge me for a full session AND deduct time from normal end time and hinder my relaxation. No. Freaking. Way. Nah-uh.*

No massage today. Now, I high-tail it home to comfort The Weez, who is determined NOT to be comforted. I get it. She’s a teenager and needs to mourn. Poor thing. (Really, poor mom. I just wanted to scoop her up and love on her and tell her that life sucks but it’s really okay and something even awesomer is going to come and, and, and . . .)

All I can do now is try to salvage the remainder of the day. I gotta make sure that today is the absolute best it can be, I have my first doubles tennis match with my trusty partner. Problem is that we haven’t hit together in over 2 months.

See this right here? Yeah, that’s our ass. It was handed to us, gift-wrapped, from inferior players. AND, our opponents over-hit and LOST 2 of my balls. If you’re not a tennis player, then you should know that this is very poor etiquette.

Speaking of balls etiquette, my partner and I had a grand text conversation about tennis balls. It was the highlight of the day. Truly it was! See for yourself.

I have balls. Tennis balls.

My partner and I are Southern Belles and were raised right. I must apologize for that. But it was totally worth it for such a suck-y day.

Now, I’m home. Stinky and in desperate need of a shower. But tonight, I’m gonna drown my sorrows in chardonnay and popcorn.

Yep, be jealous. Be jealous that I’m stinky and too tired to bathe and have cramping calf muscles and a teenager in mourning and may be sued for plagiarizing the title to the book/movie “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” by Judith Viorst.** ‘Tis the cross I bear.

*In full disclosure, turns out that my massage therapist misspoke and I misheard. She was not cutting my massage short, she just wanted to make sure that she was not extending my massage because I was late. Regardless, she was not clear in communicating with me and added to the confusion. The business did right by offering me a deep discount towards my next massage because of the circumstances.

I don’t know why I feel the need to share this part other than I try to be honest. I never named the salon or the massage therapist, so it’s completely irrelevant to the story. Yet, I just want you to know the truth.

**Also, I wanted to give some cred to Judith Viorst for writing such an amazing book. Judith, if you ever read this, I mean no copyright infringement, just respect.


A Very Merry Unbirthday to The Weez.

Me: OH MY GA! What’s wrong? Do we need an ambulance? What? What? What?!?!
The Weez: Bring Me The Horizon and A Day To Remember are coming here in October!!!
Me: Who? What?
The Weez: Only the BEST bands EVER are coming here AND they’re coming on my birthday. Please, oh please, oh please, oh please, can I go for my birthday?

I knew that it would eventually catch up to me. I’ve successfully avoided Justin Beiber [is it Beiber or Bieber? Both look incorrect. Geesh!], One Direction, Jonas Brothers, and whomever else was the teeny-bopper sensation of the day, but I could avoid it no longer.

Yes, The Weez, you can go for your birthday. So, way back in April, The Weez’s birthday was planned for October. Her dad will come from his Army post in Missouri and take her to the concert. Yes, this will work out nicely for us all.

Fast forward to the week before The Weez’s birthday. Her dad is strangely quiet and is not communicating travel or lodging plans with me. Somethings up. Yep, he’s not coming. Something about training. Sometimes military life sucks. The Weez is just devastated. My heart breaks too. The kid has had some major changes this year and seeing her dad would’ve been a much needed boost.

Of course, it’s up to me to take her to the concert now [I’ll just buy 18 packs of ear plugs and bring my iPad to entertain me]. Then I begin to think that I’d be a pretty horrible birthday date. She really should bring a friend, but we’re days before the concert and my monthly budget did not include an extra concert ticket. She really should have someone who likes this music to go with her. Let me cut out my tennis budget for the week [see how I sacrifice for my kids!] and pay the water bill 5 days later and this can work. I’ll still bring the earplugs and iPad, but I’ll sit in the lounge area. Two days before the concert, I throw down another $60 to make The Weez’s birthday happen.

Mom saves the day!! Excuse me while I shine my Mom of the Year award.

All the while The Weez’s birthday events unfold, I’ve been going through physical therapy for Achilles tendinitis. The torture-artist, er, I mean the physical therapist, begins acupuncture on my calves to release knots that are as large as grapefruits and are stressing my Achilles tendon. One would think that this would feel good. Nope. Nu-huh. My entire body is reacting. Did you know that if you release tension in one spot in your body, your whole body curses you for it?

It’s now the day before the concert. I cannot sit still at work. That evil physical therapist has done a number on me. Someone should smack her. I decide that I must leave work early to get a massage. My boss says “sure”.  He’s cool like that. I call three salons near me and none have availability. I call one that is 30 minutes away and SUCCESS! I high-tail it to the salon so that I’m not late. They won’t extend the session if I’m late and I need every minute.

Well crap, I’m five minutes late, but I can deal.

I walk in and rush through the paperwork and my cell phone rings.

Ignore it.
Ignore it.
Ignore it.

Damn it. It’s The Weez.

The Weez: [Hysterical] MOM!! Oh my gosh, mom! It’s awful [sobs].
Me: What baby!?? What is it? Are you hurt? Where are you?
The Weez: THEY CANCELED THE CONCERT! THEY CANCELED THE CONCERT! My life is over! I’ve checked everywhere and they’re NOT COMING BACK!! They canceled the concert!
Me: What? Okay, baby. I’m on my way home. Let me call you when I’m in the car.

Goodbye massage [cue forlorn music].

I arrive home to find The Weez utterly devastated. Poor thing. She’s right. Ticketmaster confirms. How odd that they took my money just hours before and mentioned nothing then. It’s rather odd how they have yet to issue a refund. We frantically search for upcoming concerts in the Southeast. And nothing.

Happy unbirthday to you!

Over the next few days, we brain-storm, we plot, we research, we plan and EUREKA! The Fair is coming at the end of the month. We’ll go to the Fair for her birthday and bring several friends. That’ll work. It’s an act of God to work around everyone’s schedules, but we make it happen! I even get to bring some of my friends. This is going to be a great birthday for The Weez after all.

The Fair is planned for Sunday after Halloween. It’ll be a busy, crazy weekend but we’re going to make it happen! Halloween went off without a hitch, but the weather man gave us quite scare. Apparently the arctic is creeping our way. I wake up Saturday to find that the arctic is here, in fact, and our commitment for Saturday has moved to Sunday.

ARE YOU FREAKIN’ KIDDING ME?!? Well, before I back out of the commitment The Weez and I made to our friend who needs our help, I need to check with The Weez and see if she and her friends want to go to the Fair on Saturday and honor our commitment on Sunday. If she says “no”, then “no” it is.

Through another act of God, we manage to move Sunday’s plans to Saturday and Saturday’s plans to Sunday [dizzy yet]. Yes, it’s going to be freezing at the Fair, but we’re tough chicks and THIS BIRTHDAY IS HAPPENING!

No it’s not. Here comes the deluge. Rain, rain, everywhere rain. Messing up the birthday, breaking my mind. Nope. No Fair today.

Now, we’re onto Plan C. Bowling it is!! Bowling it was!! It was a great day, but it sure was a mess of a birthday for The Weez.

She’s so sweet and understanding about it, but my heart is so sad that I couldn’t give her the birthday she wanted. The past few years, I’ve been working a very tight budget. We’ve had meager birthdays and Christmases but Mini-Me and The Weez have been so tolerant and empathetic. What amazing kids I have!

Well, I have one more birthday surprise to hopefully turn this around for The Weez. We’re going to the DMV. Yes, that’s right, folks! The Weez is going for her permit today!!

Happy birthday The Weez. I’m sorry that it was not the birthday we planned. You (and The Boy and Mini-Me) make me so proud. I love you.

The Weez has her permit!