We have a crazy life.  Our crazy has become so normal, that it takes a whopper of a moment, to make me step back and reflect on how odd we  are.  I know, I know, those of you who know us are probably saying, “…and you just now realized this?”

My son is on a trip with Daddy.  When the concerts are finished, my husband is going hunting a few days and will be taking my son to his sister’s house to be with his cousin for a day, and then she will be taking him to his Mawmaw and Pawpaw’s to stay with them a few days, until the Indiana-Ohio  family hops in the RV and heads down to Tennessee to our house for Thanksgiving.

On Friday morning, in northern Indiana, Carson woke up with his eyes “eye booger-ed shut,” (in his words) and very red.  Moms know that these are tell-tale signs of pink eye.  But, I am the one holding the little bottle of pink eye medicine (left over from when he had it last summer), way down here in Tennessee, so I had to get my Super Mom cape out of the closet and figure out what to do to save my poor baby…haha.

I started calling around to see how much it would be to Fedex the teeny tiny bottle of medicine.  For a mere $94, it could have arrived by 8am the next morning, but being Super Mom, I was sure there had to be a better, more economical solution to save my child.  Super Mom’s don’t get paid much.

I called Carson’s doctor office to see if they would call in a prescription in Ohio.  After speaking to 2 nurses, leaving 2 messages for the doctor, and explaining my son’s out-of-town dilemma 4 times,  I was getting nowhere.  Did they really think I was going to sell pink eye medicine on the black market, or something?  Really? It’s pink eye!!

Anyway, I was getting nowhere.  I guess they couldn’t see my cape through the phone.

So…not wanting my husband to have to take him to the minute clinic and pay over $100, I began to concoct a plan to save the world, well, at least my 6 year old’s eyes.

I realized my in-laws were heading north from their winter headquarters in Florida and wondered when were they heading up Interstate 75 through Tennessee Friday night (last night).

The answer:  1 am Saturday morning…Knoxville…an hour away. This was only a minor hiccup.  I was not to be deterred.  I had a secret weapon.  It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s Super Papaw!  We devised a second plan.  Yes, it was crazy.  Yes, we are nuts. But, surely, it would work.  If not, we told mom (Aka Commander of the Hall of Justice) to have the bail money ready.

We decided to drive to Knoxville early (well, 9pm, by the time we got out of the house).  We wrapped the medicine in a paper towel, put it inside of a thermal Tervis mug (since it was 28 degrees outside) and slid it in a red insulated lunch box.  We would find a place off  I-75 that would be easy for my in-laws to get to, and we would stash it.  My in-laws could find the hidden treasure and be on their way.  It was a flawless plan.

We jumped in the Batmobile mini-van and headed out.  On the way, my super side-kick’s laser eyes began drooping.  Dad would fall asleep for a nano second and come right out of it, commenting on the conversation we were just having.  He cracked me up.  He was amazing!  I told you he was a Super Hero 🙂  We finally made it to I-75 and got off at the first exit, Merchant’s Drive.  As we got off the exit and turned our eyes to the west, a cross appeared, lit up in the night sky.  It had to be a sign.  Cue the angelic choir, singing in the background.

Wallace Memorial Baptist Church
Wallace Memorial Baptist Church

This was perfect!  Safe, well-lit, room for my in-laws RV and trailer to whip in and turn around.  Super Pap and I swung in and  found a hedge and a No Parking sign.  We looked around; we were alone.  I felt this crazy adrenalin rush.  Maybe this is why there are repeat offenders in criminal activity.  I felt a little guilty.  It was exciting to be kind of bad.  I gave Dad the all-clear and he threw the door of the Batmobile open, grabbed the lunch box and lunged toward the hedge; he didn’t go anywhere.  In his haste, he had forgotten to unbuckle his seat belt.  We started cracking up.  We were going to blow our cover.  Finally, dad unwound himself from the belt, ran to the hedge, hid the lunch box behind the sign, and ran back to the van.  If I had only thought of it, I would have driven off and left him briefly.  He would have killed me, but it would have been worth it.

So, we did it.  Mission was accomplished.  Someone reviewing the church’s security cam footage may get a good laugh, but at least we didn’t have to give our story to a night watchman; he would have never believed us.

We were finished, adrenalin drained, and ready for a recharge.  And what happened to be a couple of miles down Broadway? The Super Hero refueling station, of course.  Hallelujah for Krispy Kreme donuts!  So, with a dozen “hot ones” in our lap, wiping our sticky fingers on our capes, we turned the Batmobile toward the east. Another crisis averted, another couple of hundred calories on the hips.  All in a day’s work, says Super Mom.  All in a day’s work.

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