Last evening my sister
the ex-mayor’s wife and I went by the hospital to visit Mom. In the confusion
of the ER trip on Sunday, Mom’s clothes made the rounds between us. It’s like
the Sisterhood of Mom’s Traveling Wardrobe. I first took the bag of clothes
with me, because there was nowhere in Mom’s hospital room to store them. Then I
gave them to Sis, because she has more flexibility to run to the hospital
during the day, being retired and all, even though she babysits for her
1-year-old granddaughter. On Monday, Sis rode with me to the hospital on my
snow day, so we tossed Mom’s bag of clothes in T-Hoe, where they remained until
yesterday.
Mom was a bit cranky
because she was out walking the hall. To hear her tell it, she had NOTHING to
wear. I think perhaps she was exaggerating. On Monday she was not allowed out
of bed at all, but on Tuesday they were exercising her like a Thoroughbred?
Anyhoo…she said she had to go up and down the hall in only her hospital johnny. I
beg to differ. EVERY time I have been in the hospital, and had to leave the
room, I was given another gown to put on backwards, a robe of sorts, to cover
the flapping gap of the regular hospital gown.
Whatever the case, I
said I would go back to the car and get Mom’s bag of clothes to leave on the
visitor chair in the corner of Mom’s room. It was pretty cold yesterday. My
breath puffed like I was a star of Life Below Zero. Because of the chill wind,
I zipped up my coat. Or so I planned. But as I crossed the lobby, headed out to
the parking lot, my coat zipper jammed within three inches of the bottom. It
wasn’t budging. I went out, grasping the gaping sides together. Then back in, to
Mom’s room, hotter than not-heaven, the heater cranking away at what must have
been 80 degrees.
Such a predicament. I
told Sis, “Now I can’t get my coat to
zip or unzip. It’s freezing out there.”
Well. That’s like
drawing a line in the sand for an ex-kindergarten-teacher. Sis was on me like
Juno on cat kibble. “Here. Let me get that.”
In fact, she grabbed
the bottom of my coat and had it nearly up to my chin as she yanked that
zipper-puller.
“Hey! You’re not trying to unzip it! You’re YANKING it!”
“I’m pulling it off
the fabric. THERE!”
Which she did. In
one-and-a-half shakes of a lamb’s tail. Such a professional. All those years of
experience. As we left the hospital to walk to the parking lot, I said, “I’m not zipping my coat this time. I might
not have an ex-kindergarten-teacher available to fix it.”
I might call her the
next time my shoe comes untied.
I can only imagine the treatment she'd give your shoes.
ReplyDeleteSisters are good to have, but one that will zip you up is, indeed, special.
ReplyDeleteMrs. C never taught Kindergarten, but she can fix a zipper in a flash. I tend to get coat zippers jammed in the fabric often, so I have to keep her around.
ReplyDeleteShe seems handy to have around!!
ReplyDeleteThat one is exceptional. As is the ex-kindergarten teacher and ex-mayor's wife.
ReplyDeleteI rush to strange adults with untied shoes...normal ones, too. It's a pre K teacher's nightmare. I also do zippers. This too shall end.
ReplyDeleteIn my experience subbing for a kindergarten teacher once (and only once), she will also know what to do if you are crying because you lost your Pokemon cards, don't want to come out from under a table, or reek of urine. Pretty handy when most of us have sisters who would just point and laugh.
ReplyDeleteStephen,
ReplyDeleteThe Royal, I would imagine.
*****
Kathy,
The mold was broken when she was made, and then she accused me of being the breaker.
*****
joeh,
You're in trouble if designers chuck the whole zipper thing and go with Velcro.
*****
fishducky,
Especially if I get a hankerin' for some milk and cookies and a story before my nap.
*****
Catalyst,
So rare to find both in one body.
*****
Linda,
Do they run away, muttering something about being a weirdo magnet?
*****
Tammy,
Yeah. And she could do it all at once. I have a feeling Sis could fix my zipper, tie my shoes, bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan, skin a buck and run a trot line, and still carry on a conversation with the doctor about my mom's medical history.
What kind of whacky mother do you have, that she--a former school teacher--raised TWO daughters who became teachers?
ReplyDeleteWhy didn't she teach you better?
Sioux,
ReplyDeleteI guess we weren't learnin' up what she was teachin' down.
She did it the hard way, too. Going to school after we were in school. Driving or carpooling an hour and a half one way to college every day. Or at night. I was a latchkey kid. Of course, we DID live right next door to my grandparents, so one of them was usually around for emergencies.