Mission Trips, Wheelbarrow Races, and Life Lessons--All from the Youth

It was the second night of the mission trip--the first night after a long, hard day of work. But there was still lots of energy and excitement.

I referred to my handy dandy notebook with the daily schedule so lovingly put together for me by my shared with me so I could adapt it for the trip I was leading this year.
incredible daughter--okay that's the blatant lie of a mother who would like to believe the world of her children revolves around her, so let me rephrase. I referred to my handy dandy notebook that my incredible daughter put together for the youth trip she led last year and lovingly

"Oh good, " I thought, "Relay races. Who doesn't like relay races? AND the added bonus is it will get some energy out."

I announced the activity and only heard one groan, "I don't like relay races and games." so I thought I was in the clear of anything going wrong--thought is the operative word here.

We started with the wheelbarrow race. First let me say--not everyone even knew what a wheelbarrow race was--clearly they did not go to Montgomery Elementary and have the amazing field days I did--can I get a shout out my fellow mustangs?

I explained how it worked, and we got ready to begin. Let me start with my first mistake. Each pair was to go down and back--no not down and then switch places but down and back without switching places. Second mistake, everyone had to be both the wheelbarrow and the handle at some point. I heard groans but said to myself, "this will take awhile" (How many of us plan activities thinking it will take 20 minutes and it only takes 5?) and again, they'll get some energy out. (They did but not necessarily the kind I wanted--more on that later....)

On your mark, get set, go!

Some started laughing immediately, some started pacing worrying about when it would be their turn, some watching said, "I'm not doing it." Others started telling me why they couldn't do it--lower back aches etc...wah wah wah, I thought. None of the first pair was very good---sorry just speaking the truth here.

And I was getting irritated--my mind started going to the whole old people thinking of, "Back when I was a kid" and "They just don't get out and play anymore--phone and video obsessed kids." Those thoughts were  completely contradictory to the fact they had no phones on this trip and NOT ONE had complained--or I'll add has complained five days later--AND most of them had been outside playing volleyball for hours. But really does logic have to follow when the image you have had in your mind of perfect, fun, energy releasing relay races does not include complaints and not being able to do it and that image is being shattered before your very eyes?

Some of them begged me to let the game be over--I didn't comply. Others began cheering their friends on and others became very quiet.

One youth finished being the handles, dropped her "wheelbarrow" and ran off into the building. They had me pause. This was not a youth who usually did that no matter what happened. Others were concerned and I could feel my perfect evening slipping away. "I'll show them," I thought, "This is so not hard and they'll think it's funny that Mama Doyle is doing it." I knew I had to save the mood even if that meant humiliating myself. Plus to be honest, I really believed I was going to show them all up. (I'm pretty sure there is a psychiatric disorder which includes grandiose thinking...)

I grabbed a youth and said, "Let's do this." I could hear chants of "MAMA DOYLE, MAMA DOYLE!" and hear my co-leader, "Katherine you're going to hurt your knee. Are you crazy?" But I was determined and irritated and desperate.

AND IT WAS FREAKING HARD!!! My arms ached, my core ached (in my defense I've had 4 c-sections none of them can say that). I couldn't go straight, but I was damned and determined I was going to succeed (and show them up), so I kept going, until I couldn't. (And yes I could also hear someone say, "Bless her heart." I also heard, "I'm videoing this and sending it to her children." --maybe I should consider whether he was the best choice of a chaperone.) 

I fell to the ground and laughed, but also began to think.

I asked them to do something I hadn't tried in years--and although I thought I remembered racing the full length of Montgomery's field, my memory may be a bit off--that wasn't smart. I also thought about the different reactions. Like so many other times, these youth taught me lessons in life and taught me about their strength, endurance and resilience.

They didn't all want to do this race or any of them, but they wanted to be a part of the group so they joined in discomfort and all. As they were racing, some were determined and focused, some laughed at themselves as they fell--some because they really thought it was funny and some because they were so embarrassed and that was their best defensive reaction. I thought about the youth that had to go isolate for a moment and realized my request, my insistence had taken something from the person--had cost the person and not in a good, uplifting way.

Five minutes after I finished my "show" (really probably a bit longer--it takes awhile for a 51 year old to get off the ground) they were all back together and ready for the next race. It didn't break them--it brought them together (possibly against me, but oh well).

So many things I learned--first and foremost it's not all about me (See above) and more importantly while I want to challenge and push the youth (and myself) into stretching ourselves, I also need to listen to them. I need to know more fully what I'm asking them to do. I need to flexible in my thinking and my expectations. I was reminded we all take life's challenges on in different ways--some laughing, some crying, some quietly, some fussing, and some wanting to conquer the challenge.

We are all different--all created in God's image--but all different. We have different strengths and weaknesses. we have different ways of responding to life's challenges. We come into situations carrying our past. We come into situations bringing past challenges. I was reminded by these remarkable youth of all these things. But that wasn't the most important lesson.

These youth taught me about forgiveness, and fortitude and strength. They were irritated with me, some down right mad as hell. They were embarrassed and uncomfortable, but they stayed connected. They stayed in the group, and they moved on--together.

They are amazing and I am deeply grateful for the privilege of journeying with them.

Tires, Tampons, and Growing Up Doyle

I have young adult children, most of the time they even act like it. But not, it's been proven over and over, when it comes to cars....(and I'm not talking about the 7 totaled cars).

The latest problem started this week. The Babies' car has been leaking air in a tire for oh, let's just say

Leaving the bumper sticker on--
what cop gives a ticket to someone who announces
they love their mom?

the whole summer. They have become very adept at putting air in tires. Mind you this is one of the four NEW tires we bought the day William was driving home from college--a whole other story.

Anyway, Caroline wants to go to Mississippi this weekend. We told her the tire had to be fixed before she goes. (I think she really wanted us to say the air conditioner needs to be fixed, but I digress...) All week she was too busy, read had lots of other things to do as well was probably hoping we would do it for her. Friday afternoon came...she could put it off no longer. To her credit, she took the $25 coupon that had come in the mail.

I can only imagine the sweat pouring down her back, her wide eyes, her hands shaking as she approached Big O Tires--the fiercest monster she had ever encountered.

The text started--I'm her mama so I can read between the texts. Let me translate

• "Do I have to make an appointment at Big O" translates "Please say yes and it's too late so I don't have to do this."
• "Are you still with William" translates "Please make him do this." (the truth is typically he would do anything for his baby sister so this wasn't a ridiculous questions--but I wasn't.)
• "But like where do I put the car?" translates "Don't you want to meet me here and handle this?"

Well unfortunately for Sweet Caroline, I have been working really hard in therapy and so did not swoop in to save her--well that and I didn't have a car because Sweet William had mine....(which leads to another question--why do I pay for the gas for him to nanny with my car?--therapist will soon be able to retire or purchase a mountain house.)

Then the phone call comes....

"Where's the tire key?" By this time Chris was home so he could answer since I had NO IDEA--I didn't even know there was such a thing as a tire key. While Chris is responding I am desperately hoping and praying I didn't throw it out when I cleaned out the car earlier this summer.

He could sort of answer--he could give her some ideas of where it might be. Here's how that conversation went.

Chris, "Look in the console--you know the thing between the front seats--or the glove compartment."

Caroline, "They're looking, but really the console? This is awful."

Me, "What's wrong?"

Caroline, "It's full of TAMPONS!" 

I began to silently laugh recognizing this was a far more embarrassing situation than the time Boss had my car (And Then the Tampons Fell Out) That problem also all started with a defunct tire....

Caroline continued, "And you should have told me they'd have to go in my car. They opened the trunk and there were THREE bras in there." (I'm trying to forget she has also been driving around 6th grade boys--quite the life lesson their learning. Oh wait, they have little sisters. Welcome to William's world.) "And it's so embarrassing, the car is full of trash. If I'd known they were going to go into it, I would have cleaned it out." 

Now I just want to know how I can extend an invitation to the Big O tire people to move into our home.

"I have to go. They're asking me something." And then crickets for a long time....

Next text we get asks where we are--no mention of the tire until we ask, and then a nonchalant "they did something for free" answer. That's my girl--if it does't cost us there is absolutely no reason to ask questions. 

The lesson in all this--know how to deal with cars, but make sure you marry well or find a best friend (or your favorite brother William) who will do it for you. 

Gotta go wake up Chris to get him to go fill my car with gas....

Life was Simpler in Different Conferences

When Chris and I first met and married life was simple...

The Bulldogs were in the SEC (of course at that time we didn't give a rat's ass fell in love with them together 2 years later), the Cards were in the Big East, and UVA was ACC....

So I married my wonderful awesome incredible husband who didn't care too terribly much about college football (the only thing my daddy had against him) into a family who lived and breathed college basketball something I didn't understand except for the ACC tournament and only because that meant I got to see my cousins and spar with our dear friends the Millens--UNC fans--We were fine--seriously...we began to rear our children understanding our positions.  But here are a few things that happened along the way...

• Christopher Robert Doyle Jr. is born July 1997 the same year Boss Bailey is the number #1 recruit, hence he will be forever known as Boss Doyle
• I gave birth to William on Dec. 28, 1998--my daddy and husband went to the Peach Bowl (UVA/UGA)--I was in the hospital cared for and totally understood why they would go (I might have secretly wished they had broken me out to go too)
• We move to Pittsburgh--Chris misses a Halloween trick or treat--SK overhears someone say, "How could he miss Halloween for a football game?" to which she replies, "It's not just a football game, it's Georgia/ Florida"
• We meet the Woodyards (UT folks) and the boys ask, "are we allowed to be friends with them?" We acquiesced which led to our best friends the Ramsays in Louisville...it was a long descent
• Boss applied to UK--I could barely stand it but began to think about how I could.  I will support my children in anything they do even if I have to yell, "Go Cats"--please don't make that happen..." (It's not--huge sigh of relief)

We became a sports obsessed family--but it was very organized until....

The conferences started reorganizing--so now UVA remains in the ACC but is joined by U of L. (And may I just for the record mention that in our family the only people who actually have degrees from any school are me (UVA), my daddy and sister (UVA), my mother in law (U of L) and our daughter who currently attends and we pay the tuition for UVA.) Nonetheless despite there are very few with diplomas on their wall from either school, this has caused great family strain...

Bottom line--now UVA plays U of L on a regular basis.  During football season we refer to it as the Divorce Bowl--the beauty of and possibly God given response is they typically split the games. One year us, one year them... It's good fun even if cold for a few moments..  But the stakes have gone up...

I received a text from my brilliant overachieving daughter telling me how stressed she was I misunderstood...SK told me how stressed she was which I believed had to do with school. My beautiful ballerina, over achieving academic daughter...but instead it was about whether she should cheer for the school community she joined versus the basketball family she joined...

So yesterday...she wanted to be here with me--so not really with me as I'd like to believe,  but with her Godparents as they laid to rest her Godfather's father (who she honest to God could have been spit out of his theology), but instead she is in a sports bar totally stressed out (thank you Cammy Leech that she even cares about this) about who to cheer for.  She struggled with being reared a Cards fan and being a UVA student.  I told her if was a good position to be in--no matter who won, you won. She didn't buy it. In fact her response was, "I'm watching it in public so I have to keep it together."  That out of state tuition just paid for itself--we have a "can't keep it together because of sports" daughter--who cares what else she learns?

This is where I love and know that all these years ago we chose the right Godparents--Carter loves the Cards with every fiber of his body (he also may have a graduate degree from UVA as well as a wife with a degree from there, so the two of us--his wife and I find the fact that he always chooses the Cards rather insulting). As we watched the game he said, "Of course she should cheer for the Hoos--she's a student there."  This on top of his comments on the day of burying his dad, "We need to leave the reception. I think dad would want us to watch the U of L game." Yep we chose right...

But this is the whole problem--when we married U of L didn't play UVA in basketball or anything else for that matter, I didn't even really understand college basketball; I didn't think about playing this team.  Our teams overlapped but rarely...but yesterday overlapped and I won...and I will celebrate that until March 5 when we will play again--this time at JPJ in C'ville.  I have no idea if we will win again (Please please please let that happen), but if we split it will help (please please please don't help...).

I believe on Saturday the Yum Center became our house!

Why do we have to share a conference--perhaps it's so we can share what we have in common despite our differences.  Football season and the Dawgs!!! So yesterday ended--and may I just say my Hoos rocked the house!!  I will continue to celebrate that my team reigns supreme for however long that reign may be...

Caroline's Wedding--Part II

We had just picked SK up from the airport (read made a HUGE spectacle of ourselves even prompting a security guard to loudly "Ma'am" Caroline as she broke all kinds of airport security rules crossing the line, running in her heels (it wasn't graceful) to get to her sister) and we were in the car heading home (read to see the brothers who although they desperately miss their sister did not think getting up at the crack of dawn on fall break, making signs, and getting yelled at by security was a good idea) to reunite the entire O'Doyle clan. SK was filling us in on her pledge training...

"I really like it," she was telling us, "although some of it is kind of goofy." (Okay she didn't say "goofy" but I can't remember what she said and chances are it wasn't G rated.)  "In our national newsletter there was an article on how to incorporate KD into your wedding." I'm pretty sure I rolled my eyes as I thought, "Did I even get a picture at my wedding of all the Chi O's?  Surely I did. (beginning to feel a sick panic in my stomach) I'll have to check when I get home." (Nope, I didn't.)  I was distracted, but quickly refocused as I heard Caroline ask, "How would you do that?"  "Well," said SK, "Something about the colors on the place settings."  At this I resolutely entered the conversation, "We don't have to worry about that since you won't be having a sit down dinner."

Caroline straightened up very quickly, "What do you mean?"  SK, I KNOW rolled her eyes, and said in a somewhat sarcastic although I secretly believe she agrees with me tone, "Only Yankees ("yankees" drawn out in a definite southern drawl) have sit down dinners.  We will not be having them."  "What are you talking about?" Caroline asked panic becoming apparent. (apparently forgetting she was only 15 and had no boyfriend--but clearly has been planning her wedding for awhile (Caroline's wedding part I)

SK looked at her incredulously, "Don't you get all the pictures and texts Mama sends whenever she officiates or goes to a wedding about what we will and won't do?"  Caroline clearly offended, "No I don't.  Why don't I?"  (I admit it; I might at times send "ideas" or definite "not if we're paying for it" texts...they say admitting is the first step...oh and I send lots of good ideas of things we HAVE to do). At this Chris joined the conversation (see I'm not the only crazy one that gets drawn into these far fetched conversations), "You don't want a sit down dinner. You want it where everyone can walk around and people don't get trapped sitting at tables with people they don't know or like."  Without missing a beat Caroline evilly said, "Oh yes I do.  I want to put all the good people with all the good people and the bad people with all the bad people so they'll know just how bad they are."

I really have no words....

Three days later...driving past a store with wedding dresses in the window Caroline says, "Grandma wants me to wear some big poofy wedding dress." (See even Grandma gets drawn in...) "Why does she want you to wear that kind of dress?"  I asked thinking I knew the answer--Grandma and I have been obsessed with royal weddings for as long as we've known each other; I was thinking a princess look.  Caroline, "I don't know.  I guess she wants me to look like a cupcake."

Birthdays Doyle Style

Tuesday was SK's 20th birthday.  TWENTY!!!  I still can't even get my head around the fact we have a 20 year old.  I still sometimes have to pinch myself to remind myself I really am a mama and not just pretending...

I was in Owensboro so like the good, controlling, over involved Mama I am,  I texted the others to "remind" them it was her birthday.  The responses rolled in from the boys which basically said, "back off woman, we've got this and we've already done it."  Caroline ignored me...

So here's how they happy birthdayed their sister.

William:  Happy Birthday--Congratulations on beating teen pregnancy

Boss:  Holy Shit!  You're 20!  Well technically I'm writing this on Monday so you're still a wittle teenager.  Wish I could be with you on your birthday.  Have a blast.  Don't go too hard on the sake bombs.

I don't know if Caroline texted her, but as she got in my car after field hockey this is what I heard, "Happy birthday; have fun tonight.  Oh, are you on your period?  Because if you are you need to be careful drinking."  Controlling Mama broke in, "What are you even talking about?"  Caroline giving me the perfect you're interrupting me and crossing boundaries into our relationship look, "Shh woman" (she likes to see how I'll react) "I'm trying to give her advice."

Why can't I ever leave things alone--"Caroline, how do you even know that?"  Caroline, "Daddy told me; it's something about your hormones are something."  I started sputtering..."Why would Daddy even tell you that?  And how would he know?"  She just gave me that, "really you're asking that question look?"

She hung up with, "I"m almost finished writing the instagram post."  And here it
is--now this took work!  (Words to songs by some band....)

I need to be fair perhaps they get some of their inappropriateness from me their priest mother--my text to her was, "Happy birthday.  You can no longer blame mistakes on being a teenager and you aren't legal to drink.  So really what's the point.  I love you."

 I'm assuming Chris Senior just said "Happy Birthday."   He's appropriate like that.

Feminism Caroline's Way

I love All Saints--y'all have heard that before.  And I love having all my babies at All Saints.  What I don't love is having Kendall leaving All Saints, but that's a different blog.

When I first started as junior high chaplain, the babies were still in junior high and SK was a junior counselor.  I was so nervous that I would step on their toes (and I probably did--okay they'll probably tell you I stepped all over their feet and tried to take 1/2 their legs off), and yet each year when I would ask if they wanted me to come back, they said yes.  Each year one moved up until this year.

This year it was just SK and me.  It was so weird, and frankly a little (read a lot like I may have cried several times in my cabin) sad.  I missed having them all around; I missed seeing them be at All Saints; I missed seeing the ethos of All Saints seeping into their pores.

I tried to stay in touch with the three not there.  Boys are terrible at texting (terrible at texting me; awesome at texting their girlfriends) and Caroline, well Caroline is just Caroline. I'd go a few days without hearing from her and then get a text that read like this,

     Caroline:  Can I get electrolysis?

Or even better

     Caroline:  Winnie is bleeding
     Me:  Bleeding where?  (Keep in mind this dog was hit by a car this summer so that was not a ridiculous question.)
     Caroline:  From her vagina!!! It's so gross.
     Me:  We couldn't get her fixed because of her broken leg; doing that end of July
     Caroline:  Well what am I supposed to do?  Should I try to use a tampon?

After much laughter and perhaps a moment where I wondered exactly how that would work and was a tad bit curious to maybe see, I responded, no just try to wrap a towel around her.  I so miss my babies (I think).

Happy happy happy dance,  they decided to come to the closing Eucharist for Kendall's final day.  Remember how I said I often stepped on their toes?  I'm not going to tell you how, but within 3 minutes I'd flustered William...but overall it was wonderful and I was grateful to have them ride home with me--or so I thought...

We had just gotten onto 65 when Caroline says, "How many people can I have at my wedding?"  I shook my head from side to side trying to clear the confusion--last I heard she didn't have a boyfriend--but I had been gone a week.  Me, "I don't know; we'll worry about it later."  Caroline, "Well I've been thinking about wedding dresses..."  Now I don't know how we then moved on from there, but all of a sudden William said something about planning his wedding.  Caroline, "You don't get to plan your wedding--you're not the bride--just show up."  William, "What? And you are the one always yelling about equal rights."  Caroline, "Well for some things, and besides have you been thinking about your wedding since you were six?  Do you really want to go look at invitations and taste cake."  (I was a bit surprised he didn't jump on the cake tasting.)  William, "I'm just saying I should get a say."

It really took a lot of effort for me not to point out that a) they weren't marrying each other so neither could say whether he could or couldn't come, b) they were still in high school and c) this conversation was going nowhere.  Caroline was huffing and puffing (and she says I make a lot of breathing noises) and William was egging her on; I was wondering why in the world I wanted them to ride with me?  "I can't decide which kind of dress I want.  I think I'm going to want some sleeves.  Grandma thinks..." and at that I had to interrupt, "Seriously is there something you're not telling me?  You've been talking to Grandma about this?" "Mama," Caroline retorted, "It doesn't hurt to plan in advance. Now back to the dress, I don't like the tops of my arms."

I have no idea how I was now drawn in as though we were truly going to start looking for dresses, but out of my mouth came, "Well start doing push-ups.  They're great for arms."  Caroline, "I hate pushups; they're too hard."  William too was losing his mind and becoming part of this fantasy dress buying operation, "Just do ladies pushups they're easier."

Oh boy--Caroline reared her head up, "Are you saying women have to do easier things?  That's so sexist.  I can't believe you said that."  William, "Fine I won't call them ladies pushups I'll call them wussie pushups."  "NOW YOU'RE SAYING WE'RE WUSSIES!!!"  I couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry---and I certainly didn't know how to change the conversation--thank goodness for ringing phones and arriving home.....

Part II
Last night Caroline informed me that she was going to have to go to Mexican restaurants for first dates because if she was annoyed by the way any man ate chips he had to hit the road.  She wasn't going to spend her life married to someone who can't eat chips right.  Just in case anyone wants to start practicing....

Boys and Prom are Way Worse than Girls...

Got up before 6 am to catch a flight back to Louisville so we could be home for prom (or as Chris

says so I can be a part of the prom paparazzi).  We got home around 11 am--William was heading to the shower and Boss was nowhere to be seen.  After checking in with the girls (that should probably read after I convinced the girls to make a grocery list, go to the store and then come home and make the appetizer and desserts I had promised to bring to the sophomore prom dinner), I found him asleep in the basement.  To be fair, he's been really sick so getting as much sleep as he can is a good idea, but I had just discovered he had yet to pick up his tux (which he only ordered on Wednesday!!!).  I tried to wake him up...

I gave up and came upstairs; a few minutes later he emerged wondering loudly why I was so worked up.  "I've got several hours; it's all good." he told me as he began scavenging for food.  "There's no food in this house," he yelled from the kitchen.  William chimed in at this point, "Yeah there's no food."  "I've sent the girls to the store," I defensively responded, "And besides I stocked the house before I left on Thursday."  (Truth is I continually stock the house but when you have 3 teenage boys living under your roof plus their friends, well, one day I won't make a daily full grocery cart Kroger trip.)  He walked into the dining room eating--I was a little confused how he was eating when we had no food in the house; I chose not to ask.  Instead I reminded him he needed to go pick up the car (he's borrowing my mother-in-law's--no truck this year), pick up his tux, pick up the corsages (William can't drive--he needed to get his too) and shower. He just kept telling me it would be fine.

Just then the girls walked in loaded down with grocery bags.  "DO NOT TOUCH THESE GROCERIES!" Caroline yelled as Boss approached.  That might as well have been a double dog dare you, he descended upon them and began pulling groceries from the bag.  They were both screeching, he was tearing open the chocolate chips...it wasn't pretty.  Suddenly there was an even louder scream as SK took a closer look at Boss, "Look at your hair!  Have you even showered?"  I should have stayed out of it, but instead I piped in, "No he hasn't and he hasn't gone to get his tux yet."  "Are you kidding me?" SK kept yelling.  "GO NOW!!"  He continued digging through the grocery bags.

He stopped foraging for a moment, looked up and said, "Why don't you just go get it for me?"  I thought SK's head might start spinning around. "Are you an idiot?  You have to try it on."  "Why?" "TO SEE IF IT FITS!!!"  I tried to explain to him that even though he had tried one on when he ordered it he still needed to make sure what they ordered worked, but I was interrupted.  "JUST GO!!"  "I will," he answered still not moving.

"You are totally stressing me out," SK continued.  "I've got to do your hair; you've got to...." "Wait, what?" Caroline sputtered, "Do his hair?"  "Yes I'm going to straighten it and put it in a man bun." (I was wondering how the Girlfriend felt about that but was smart enough to keep my mouth shut...) "Mom," SK turned to me, "Do something about him?  He's got so much to do and he's not moving.  I know I'm going to make you a list on the chalkboard and you can check things off."  "Nope," he said, (I was thinking he was going to take control of his own prom preparations but alas...) "not the chalkboard.  I hate the sound of chalk writing."  "I"ll get a piece of paper" Caroline contributed grabbing a piece and sitting down at the dining room table. "What do we need on it?"  "Not with pencil," said Boss, "I hate the sound of pencil on paper."  The things you learn about your children...


"Okay Caroline," SK continued, "Start writing--car, tux, corsage, shower." Boss piped in, "Add get ice coffee to it."  "What order?" Caroline asked.  "IT DOESN'T MATTER!!  HE HAS TO DO IT ALL!!" SK continued to shout.  "Mama, you've got to do something about him.  I do everything for him--make his coffee, pick up after him--he can't do anything for himself.  Fix it; I mean fix him. When you were gone I ground the beans, filled the coffee maker with water Thursday night and all he had to do was turn it on Friday morning and he didn't even do that!  What is wrong with him?"  (I thought but wisely did not say, "sounds like nothing; he's got you doing everything for him.")  She continued, "You've got to stop doing stuff for him; he can't do anything for himself.  You make his coffee.  While you were gone he just sat in that chair all sick like and said, 'make me iced coffee please.' I told him no so he says, 'you probably don't even know how to make it well' trying to use reverse psychology.  I still said no and then he said,'oh go ahead and try' AND I DID.  This is all your fault."(Somehow I knew it would come back to being my fault) "He's a little prince; I do everything for him and you are the one who taught me how to spoil people." (She has a point; I've written about it before-- I Like to do Things for Them )  Boss stood up and nonchalantly walked out of the room.  I guess we all assumed he was starting on that list...

(All this time I was texting both the girlfriend's mother and the after prom party mother grateful technology has not advanced to the point where they could hear the chaos going on--I suspect if they could have Boss may no longer have a date tonight and I'd be hosting after prom....)

Fifteen minutes later he walked back in.  I really think SK was going to have an apoplectic attack. "GO!!" and then in a fit of desperation she added, "Here's the deal if you will go right this minute I'll pick up the corsages."  And he ran out the door...

It's now 3:00 pm; we have the car, a tux, and the flowers--hoping the shower is soon.  He's calling SK the prom natzi, but I think he'll be ready.