My husband and I planned a trip to Idaho this month. Or I should say I planned a trip. But on the night before we were to leave I started having second thoughts. My house sitter could only stay for the middle part which meant the girls would be on their own two nights on the front end and one night on the back end. I didn’t worry about parties because middle daughter is too embroiled in college applications and riding competitions to risk getting into trouble. But I worried about the dogs. And I worried about the rabbit. And I worried about the girls getting to school on time because middle daughter is like Jamie Lee Curtis in Freaky Friday in the morning. So I called youngest daughter, who turns fifteen next month, into the den where I was maniacally making lists of instructions with my right hand and chugging a glass of red wine with my left. “What?” she asked irritably, as I had interrupted her television show.
“I need you to take care of things while I’m gone,” I said.
“Yeah yeah yeah, I got it,” she said, turning out of the room.
“Wait!” I called.
“What?” she asked, sighing and rolling her eyes.
“Look, I’m thinking of not going. I’m stressed about leaving,” I added. She realized it wasn’t going to be a quick conversation so she grunted in exasperation and sat down next to me on the couch.
“What are you worried about?” she asked, settling into her role. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but she turned out to be the grownup in the family.
“The animals mostly,” I said truthfully.
“Mom! That is the last thing you should be worried about!” she cried out.
“Well I am! If you guys don’t remember to let them out they will poop all over the house, and if you leave food out Hank will break dishes climbing on the counter and then vomit up a bone in the middle of the night and probably have a seizure!” I cried back. She eyed the level of wine in my glass, took a deep breath and said calmly, “You can count on me. I’m not the one in the family who forgets things. I will take care of the dogs.”
“But what if your sister forgets to check Cocoa’s water and he dies of dehydration while I’m gone?! I wailed.
“I will tell her to change his litter and feed and water him and let him out, and if she doesn’t do it I will do it myself, okay?” she offered.
“What if she won’t get out of bed in the morning?” I fired again.
“Then I will wake her up and tell her when we have to leave,” she countered.
“What if she doesn’t listen?” I cried.
“Mom,” she said, “she listens much better to me when you aren’t around. It’s like Charlie. When she’s on a leash she’s aggressive and barks at other dogs, but let her off and she’s fine.” I couldn’t help it. I started laughing.
“Can I go now?” she asked.
So we left early the next morning. No way my husband could have convinced me. He doesn’t know enough about the details of the house to reassure me. He’s much too casual about domestic arrangements, believing things just magically work out. And in his world they do because I spend hours organizing things. But it was youngest daughter who tipped the scales, who understands the importance of managing the animals and her older sister or face the mayhem that ensues. Or maybe she is just good at managing me. I’m willing to consider the possibility, but I don’t care because it worked. And when her older sister started badgering her about giving her her upgrade for a new phone, she handled that too. Her older sister has lost two phones in less than a year. She didn’t seem to care that much about not having a phone until the recent release of the iphone 5 and now she is on a mission. I got texts from youngest daughter reading, “Don’t give her my upgrade! I might give it to her if she’s nice, but she needs to learn she can’t always get what she wants.” “Word,” I thought to myself. But middle daughter badgered me, badgered her father, while we were trying to enjoy some time alone on our trip, and badgered her sister, relentlessly. When I called to ask how it was going the other night, youngest said, “I gave her my upgrade.” “Why?!” I cried. “I thought you were going to teach her a lesson?” “Because she was so annoying, bugging me ten times a day. It’s like Hank begging at the table. Sometimes you just have to throw food so he goes away.”
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