Grandma, Did You Pee in a Urinal?

Ok, so I have two grandmothers and both are in their 90’s.  One grandmother is fairing much better than the other in terms of “confusion”.  I have a very small, very close family.  We now live only three hours away but I desperately miss the weekly dinners together.   Unfortunately this incident occurred a week before we were set to see them.

Yesterday my mom calls and we are discussing our upcoming beach trip.  Then out of the blue she says “oh, you want believe what happened to your grandmother last night”.  She said that they had finished dinner and my grandmother was going to use the bathroom (as she always does just before we leave).  Well, she leaves the bathroom and comes over to the table with a confused look on her face and a huge biker dude following her.  She sits down, still obviously confused, and just looks at the huge man with the santa-sized beard.  Our family gives a polite “hello” as they sit wondering what she has done.  He then says     “she is ok.  It is all ok.  Look, what happens in the bathroom, stays in the bathroom!  I think she got a little confused.”  He gave a smile and a little chuckle and then patted her on the back and walked away.  My family now realized that she had gone in the men’s room, but was still not sure what occurred.  My Aunt leans in and says ” mom, what happened in the bathroom?”

Well,  it seems that she was not completely aware of what had taken place, but she did know that the restaurant had installed very strange toilets that had no doors and were very hard to use.  So basically, my ninety one year old grandmother took a pee in a urinal and none of us know exactly how she did this.  She also shared the experience with a very big, very burly, very bearded biker man whose name we don’t even know (but wish I did).  For I am intrigued by his gentle giant who helped  my grandmother with the predicament she was in, and although she will not remember him, I feel fairly certain that he will always remember her!  This is one of those situations where not remembering what happened is more of a blessing than a curse!

Coffee in a Sippy Cup – Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures

Ok, so I really needed coffee this morning and we were in a really big hurry.  I ran to the cabinet for one of my travel coffee mugs, but they were gone.  I ran to the pantry to look for a disposable cup and only found some tiny little clear thing; this cup was way too small and thin for hot coffee.  I ran back into the kitchen chanting “plastic cup, plastic cup” and noticed an open cabinet door.  My daughter had left the door open when she picked out her cup that morning.  I peered through the opening at my two best options.  I could pick a pink princess cup or a blue  car cup.  I grabbed the pink princess cup, removed the lid and started to fill it with steaming hot coffee.  I was ok until it was time to attach the spill-proof top. “You are not really going to do this are you” was running through my head as I attached the Sippy cup’s top.  I grabbed the cup and my bag; I placed them in the car and then worked on getting my children buckled in their seats.

As we were heading down the street, I picked up the cup and held it to my lips.  I looked over to see our neighbor standing at the corner with a big smirk on his face.  Ok, so maybe he wasn’t smirking as much as he was giggling.  Yep, my neighbor was doing the grown man giggle and i was hoping that it was  about something other than the fact that I was drinking out of a baby cup.  I mean he is pretty old.  Maybe he could not even see my cup.  Maybe he has glaucoma or something.  I let out an embarrassed  groan and started mumbling under my breath and my daughter looked up to see what was going on.  I then hear “mom, is that my favorite princess cup?”  “Yes honey” I said.  “Did you put coffee in my favorite princess cup?” she asked.  I groaned and nodded yes.  “Mom, why are you using my favorite cup for your coffee?”  I stopped at the stop sign, looked back at her and said  “because honey, desperate times call for desperate measures”.   “Are you desperate momma?” she asked.  I did not answer but only turned up the radio.  I then heard my four year old say “well, just don’t do that again”.

I finished my coffee by taking quick sips while moving, but never at stop lights.  I kept hearing “Are you desperate momma?” in my head.  Well, I must be desperate and for what, coffee?!  I decided at that moment that I needed to get off of the junk.  I looked inside myself and then announced “I am addicted to deliciously sweet coffee.  I am willing to make a fool of myself for this stuff and it has to stop.  I will not stoop to this low level ever again.  I am drinking too much coffee and it is negatively impacting my life!”  We arrived at my daughters appointment and I took the kids inside feeling sad and ashamed.

The  appointment was over.  I was hot, tired, and I was listening to my children scream from the backseat.  “I am hot” my son screamed.  “No, I am too cold” my daughter screamed.  “That is my book.”  “No that is my book.”   “Mom, blah, blah, scream, blah, blah!”  I could no longer make out what they were saying, because at that moment , it all became clear.  I did not need to cut out coffee.  No way, no ma’am.  What I need is to increase my daily intake.  I mean, if I had not been so exhausted and tired, I could have found one of my four travel coffee mugs and  would have never used my little girl’s sippy cup and would have never worried that I was a coffee addict.  Thank goodness I worked that one out.  “Hey kids, want to go to Starbucks?”