Period, The End

With my weekend plan in place, I focus on home. Getting the cats fresh water and fresh bowls of food that will last the weekend. Making sure the kitty litter is pristine for Their Royal Highnesses. Making sure there is a doorstop in every open doorway so that Gidget, in her endless quest to pounce on whatever is under the door (usually nothing) does not inadvertently lock herself in a bedroom. We all know Trinket would not be a good sport and nose the door open for her from the other side.

I drop in on each of the kids in their rooms. They are catching up on Facebook and XBox 360 and making weekend plans of their own. I am glad thay can shift gears on custody hand off days. I am also sad to end such a wonderful week with their undivided company. It had been our first week without guests at the cottage. In years past we'd been joined for a day or two by J. and his girls, or Scott and his girls, or Mom and Bill. This week had been just us and it had been awesome. I wonder how many more there will be. The kids are about that age when they'll blow me off. And I am constantly reminded that I miss 26 weeks of time with them every year as it is. I'm amazed they remember my name.

Soon, all too soon, it is time to get in the car and go. I linger as long as I can. I feel like I am headed to the gallows. And once they've left the car and bounced up the steps into Lars' house, I need to focus. I miss them. I already miss the cats. I need to wallow. But I need to get to the cottage first.

And for that I need gas. I can get gas at the grocery store and while I am there, grab a made to order salad for dinner when I get to the cottage. A shower, little wine, a little lobster salad, a little time on the porch and I should be right as rain.

I make my way through the hellish grocery store experience (It's Friday, people? Where's the mirth?) and pull up to the pumps. While the petrol is flowing, my phone begins to ring.

I answer (I know, it is against all things OSHA) and am shocked to hear unintelligible sobbing from the other end. It is Hil. Evidently, she's gotten her First Period.

I put on my "talk the lunatic off the ledge" voice I have honed in my line of business and ask her to take deep breaths so I can understand what she is saying.

She chokes out that she got her period and she is upset. I want to tell her to get comfortable with the idea. The Big P will be a returning guest for 40 years. Instead I congratulate her on being a young woman. She is not thrilled.

I mentally scrap my plans for the weekend and ask her if she'd like me to come get her. Lars and I have an understanding. If this very thing were to happen, Hil could come to my house for TLC and tutorials on the equipment involved in the care and feeding of ones' menstrual cycle. The New Liza will have no such honor.

She is breathing normally now, and I hear her say that she knows what to do and she does not need me to come get her.

"Do you WANT me to come get you? THAT is my real question."

She is calmer. She says she'll be fine. So I ask her why she is crying. This can be such an exciting time. She is growing up. She'll get boobs. Her hair will thicken. She'll be even more beautiful.

The real bummer she says is that she ruined her favorite shorts. I tell her how to tell Lars how to wash them and ask her if she needs anything from the store. Inclusive of the things Lars will need to wash her shorts, and presumably other articles of clothing that will be wrecked while Hil gets adjusted to her new state of womanhood.

She tells me she has all the things she needs. I ask her if she has chocolate. She laughs and tells me she does. She is going to be just fine.

And with an even heavier heart, I finish pumping my gas and pull away from the station. I am on my way to the cottage with another milestone having flown by.