It's a question many of us will ask at times in our life. To wit, exactly how did we get ourselves into this?
That's the question I asked myself while I drove through my town late the other night, in the rain while wearing my pajamas. And house shoes, because driving barefoot would be ridiculous.
As with most things in my life, there's a story involved. And a larger theme. But, immediately, a story. And the story, as most of my stories do, involves my children.
When boys leave your house, they tend to disappear. When girls leave your house, well, they never actually leave. For instance, it's possible my youngest daughter talks to my wife more times a day than I do. At least prior to about 6 p.m. But, on some occasions ...
The unintended consequence of this consistent contact is it creates a certain level of expectation. Whether you're always 100 percent excited about it, you know it happens. And if for some strange reason it doesn't happen, well, the transition from "strange" to "sinister" just doesn't take that long. Try "instantaneous."
So, if someone who contacts you all the time goes, say, camping over the weekend, and if said person, who never isn't in contact with her mother, suddenly goes on radio silence at a time when she ought to be on her way home in the rain, on narrow Arkansas two-lane roads, well, alarms will go off.
And parents will be driving, near midnight, in the rain, in their sleeping clothes, to said person's house, because they don't have some sort of confirmation that she's safe, they know they won't sleep that night. And they'll be turning around once they see a car in the driveway and lights on. Again, because they do hope to sleep at some point that night.
That's because our children have no idea the havoc they can create just by doing nothing at all. Or by doing something, but at the worst possible time. Or both.
Need further proof? The Lovely Mrs. Smith and I were out with friends at the movies the other night. Great time, fun film, good company, the popcorn was just right and our phones were on "silent," as we've been instructed.
So, imagine the mood plummet when we wandered out into the lobby after the final credits, only to discover that our youngest son had phoned both his mother and me. Repeatedly. And had not left a message.
Note to children: If you want to kill your parents, do that. Just that. You don't even have to do it more than once. That will be enough, particularly if you then don't answer your phone when they call back. Repeatedly. Frantically. And call your siblings. And check your Instagram for clues as to whether you've been kidnapped and managed to post a photo from the trunk of a car or something.
And the couple that had been enjoying our witty banter and insightful analysis of the film (or the popcorn. Whichever) now got to observe us staring wild-eyed off into space and hammering away at phone apps, muttering things like "I don't want to "Find My Phone," I want to "Find HIS Phone." All while wondering if that "one phone call" thing counts if you have to leave a message, and if parents who aren't available for their children 24/7 are the worst people ever or just among the worst?
Then, when you finally reach your child and find out the emergency is that he doesn't remember the streaming service password (but had figured it out, which is why he didn't call you back), well, you get to explain that to your friends. And also why you were screaming and repeatedly kicking a wall.
I thought it was just me. But one of my coworkers relayed that she had made her husband email all of her oldest son's various addresses because he had told her he wasn't feeling well, then didn't answer his phone. College library, bad cell phone reception. If he had intended to do it, he couldn't have created more panic.
So, if and when you find yourself driving through a rainy night just to confirm your child is safe or nearly breaking your foot when you find out the emergency was he wanted to watch "Jack Ryan", and you wonder how you came to this point, well, you'll know.
You had kids. That's how you got into this.
Commentary on 10/19/2018