Behind My Door: The perils of parenting, part 2

By Sandra Bernhardt

Why is “The Perils of Parenting” coming to you in two parts?  Because there are so many perils in parenting that they simply cannot be covered in just one column.  Read on and it will explain why I have started smoking a pipe.  (Don’t laugh. It’s hereditary. My grandma Shoup, who lived in the Pennsylvania mountains, fell over and died at age 95, her pipe still clenched in her teeth.)

It was a snowy Sunday morning. The roads were slick and huge drifts were piling up everywhere. Lee, my third-born son, who loved snow, was jumping around like a deranged cheerleader. I wondered why he didn’t just catapult himself to a window and take a look. 

Most Kids don’t worry about slipping into a car crash, and Lee was no exception. He just continued vibrating from room to room, delirious that it was his first day as a delivery boy for a Milwaukee newspaper.  

News flash: This was MY first day, too. Now, thanks to a blizzard, I was forced to toss my choir robe over a chair and prepare to squire my son through his paper route. I delayed our departure for thirty minutes in order to update my will. 

Incidentally, has anyone paid attention to the clever “Punish a Parent” scam?  First of all, a parent and child head out in blinding snow to perform what I now call the “delivery debacle.” Then, the parent donates time, gas, sanity and the family car. In the end, it’s only the child who gets paid. Meanwhile, the parent is gifted with an empty gas tank, a chat with a psychiatrist, three dents in the right front fender and an oxygen tank.  (My airways had slammed shut.)

At last, the slipping, sliding and near-death terror began. I soon gave thanks that garbage cans don’t feel pain, because right off the bat, I murdered three of them.  As we careened around corners and slid right through red lights, my right hand rutched around in my purse in search of Immodium. (Wise parents store Immodium in all pockets, handbags and glove compartments.) It calms the parent, as well as an astonishing number of internal organs.

Since our family has always lived on the south side, neither Lee nor I were familiar with the north. As a result, I was forced to turn around in numerous driveways. It was harrowing to back out onto the icy street.  We spun like a Tilt-A-Whirl.  

Update: Six garbage cans were now dead. 

More Immodium.

When we returned home, I was sweating and the phone was ringing.

“Hello, Mrs. Bernhardt? This is the circulation manager at the Journal.  The phones are ringing off the wall here. People are complaining they’re missing parts of their papers. Would you please look into that?”

Lee was still in the car, searching for a lost mitten. I noted he was sitting on a tall stack of colored paper. “Look at all the extra papers I got, Mom.”

“Oh,my God!” I shrieked. “Those were supposed to be inserted into the papers!  Didn’t they tell you that?”

“Tell me what?” (If I’d asked whether he’d like a Dilly Bar, his hearing would be stellar.)

A sucker for adventure, Lee said, “Looks like we have to do it all again!” It probably was the blue vein sticking out the side of my neck that made him stop talking.

“Stay in the car!” I ordered.  I rushed into the house to get a fresh box of Immodium. As I stormed through the living room, my eyes rested on the small wood plaque sitting on the piano:

I’D TAKE A TRANQUILIZER IF I COULD GET MY TEETH UNCLENCHED.  

I began laughing and couldn’t stop. That moment of mirth may have saved Lee’s life.

I was still laughing when I got back into the car. Now Lee asked if HE could have Immodium. 

After we had completed the second run, I was drained, and although I was still wearing my puffer coat and a “Hello Kitty” hat, I crawled to the kitchen to get a beer.

It was then a quote by Kathryn Carpenter came to mind: “Don’t get your knickers in a knot. Nothing is solved and it just makes you walk funny.”

I forgave Lee.

For more than 30 years, Fort Atkinson’s Sandra (Sandi) Bernhardt has enjoyed humorous public speaking in Wisconsin and beyond. During her career, she served as a human resources director, as well as a customer service consultant for a healthcare company. Active in the community, Sandy is a graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater and the mother of three grown sons. 

Editor’s note: part 1 of “Perils in parenting” is here: https://fortatkinsononline.com/behind-my-door-the-perils-of-parenthood-part-one/.