M-I-C, I See You Are Still a Cheapskate

My sluggish mind is racing even before coffee. I am totally wigging, and trying hard not to show it. The kids have seen their mother in meltdown enough for this particular custody week. Need to recover and re-establish authority as the world's most fabulous mother, bar none.

I take a deep breath, dress and go downstairs to make coffee, that I will need eventually. I have a fight on my hands.

My mind is ping-ponging all over the interior of my head.

Lars is a clinical professional. One who needs Continuing Medical Education credits in order to remain licensed. He miraculously has managed to do this for over a dozen years. I am not sure how.

But what I do know is that when we were married, we'd often take a trip to Florida. On his company's expense account, to obtain most of the more difficult credits. The ones that can't be completed by taking a test at the end of an article in a professional journal. Puh-lease. Open book test much? They'd offer 4 days of classes for the clinician and 4 days of fun in the sun for the family.

The Florida clinicians, inclusive of the untrained cosmetic surgeons we've all heard horror stories about, use their impressive geography to entice clinicians with young families to turn the CME trip into a family vacation. Come to our resort! Stay at reduced rates! Keep up your credentials while the spouse and kids frolic on our gorgeous beaches and soak up our fabulous sunshine!

We did it all the time. The hospital would pay for the courses, the hotel, reimburse Lars's flight, and pay a per diem for his meals. The kids flew for free, the hotel was a wash, and the expenses were as managable as any other vacation expenses. And Lars got the CMEs he needed. Perfect. All the hallmarks of a freeloader's vacation.

But I am wigging out. What are my minor children going to be doing while he is off in a conference room learning about prostate exams for 6 hours a day? In America's favorite family resort? A place designed for kids in another state hours from home in an unfamiliar place that is a prime spot for child snatchers?

This CAN NOT happen. I need to stop him from doing this.

But first I need to make sure what exactly he is doing. Facts first. Accusations later.

I pour coffee and return to the second floor to find the kids getting ready for camp. They are talking about the trip.

Oh good. My obsession is now their obsession.

I casually, but probably in too high pitched a voice, make an inquiry while combing curling lotion through my hair.

"So, who else is going on the trip with you, kids?" I am so not getting an Emmy.

Hil responds first. "No one. Just us."

"And so who will be with you when Daddy takes his classes?"

"No one," Pat says. And then Hil chimes in, "You know, we'll just hang out at the pool until Daddy is finished his classes."

I choke on my French Vanilla Breakfast Blend. "Really? Do you think that's a good idea? No one will be with you in a strange place for all that time? I'm a little worried," I confess.

Hil says, "Mom, it's a 5-star hotel."

And I kind of snap. "Oh good. So the child snatcher knows your parents have money. Even better chances at ransome."

I re-cap the curling lotion and take to the iPhone. I click out a text to Lars.

"I need to understand your plan for appropriately supervising the children while you are taking your CME course. I just learned this was a work trip, not a vacation."

Send.