Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Why you should never tell the school you are good parents, really.

Want to hear a funny story?

OK, so our daughter, Sydney was in the first grade and wasn't doing well in school at all. (4 years later, we discovered she had an undiagnosed learning disability but let's not travel down that road right now.) All right... so, Sydney's teacher called me into yet another conference. The teacher actually suggested to my face that perhaps Sydney's troubles in school stem from problems in the home. (Oh, yes she did say those words to me.) I of course assured the teacher that this was certainly not the case.

"Not that we are a perfect family, but we seem to be doing a pretty good job raising our family and Adrian and I love being parents. We're good people, I promise. Sydney has problems in school but it has nothing to do with us. We ARE good parents, really."

While I was enduring this awful conference, Adrian was at a meeting about 50 miles away. I expected him to be home in time for dinner at 6:00. Of course I called his cell phone several times to get what he likes to call, "The play by play." He never answered or returned any of the 20 messages I left. I cursed him for forgetting to charge his phone and then forgave him and went about my business.

Hours passed by and not a peep from Adrian. I repeatedly checked the phone to make sure the ringer was on. I called friends and asked them to call me so I could check if my phone was still receiving incoming calls. I called Adrian's friends and asked if they had heard from him. I tried to put my worryin' out of my mind, but something just kept telling me something was really wrong.

I put the kids to bed (back then, we only had 3 kids so that was a piece of cake.) I cleaned up the supper dishes and paced back and forth wondering where oh where my husband could be. I decided to make a list of hospitals anywhere near he was going to be and I called them all asking if they had Adrian. Nope, no Adrian in the hospital. I couldn't sleep and it was getting really, really late.

At 1:00 am, the phone rang! It was a collect call from "an inmate" from the Gwinnett Detention Center!

Adrian had about 5 seconds to tell me what happened, so in other words, he couldn't explain anything. He just told me where he was and to come get him.

Well, I had to call a Bail Bondsman first. Isn't it so cool I figured out how to do that? Actually, I had called the Jail back after they made Adrian hang up and they told me what to do but they wouldn't or couldn't tell me what they had arrested him for.

I started thinking. Do I even know my husband? Does he lead a secret life? Is he a criminal and I don't even know it? Have I been living a lie?

Next, I had to wake up the children and put them in the car. Then we had to drive more than an hour away in the middle of the night to find this bail bondsman place. The children were scared and crying probably because I kept getting lost and saying, "Shit, shit, shit" a lot. Their little voices were trembling, "Whhh whhh where's Daddy?" Whh whhhh whhhy are we driving in the middle of the night? Whhhhy are you saying bad words?"

I just couldn't tell them we were out looking for the bail bondsman to bail their father out of jail since I had no idea what he was doing in there. So I just said that Daddy's car broke down and we have to go get him. We're going to the car repair man. "Yes, I said repair man, sweetie, not Bail man."

We finally found the bail bondsman and then we had to follow her to the jail. I thought I could just wait in the parking lot so my babies and I wouldn't have to get out of the car. They didn't even have shoes on.

Nope, I had to go with the bail bondsman who was actually a woman and a pretty darn fierce looking woman at that, and I wasn't about to leave my babies in the car. Turns out she was a bounty hunter as well. The kids were already scared and feasting their little innocent, small- town eyes on this, um, car repair woman and the slew of real, live weird-os walking around the jail at 3:00 in the morning made them horrified.

I carried all three children at once, two on my hips and one on my back. We got into the lobby of the jail and the guard told me the bondsman and I had to go post bail in the jail but no children were allowed and they had to stay in the lobby.

I can only imagine how I appeared to these people. Disheveled house wife with three children clinging on to her like koala bears, standing in the lobby of a jail to spring her husband out of the pokey.

There were some weird-os in the lobby too. I was afraid. Surely this was a practical joke. Where's the hidden camera? Of course, I said, no way jose cuervo, I am not leaving my babies in here alone. And the big, black as night bounty hunter shot me a look and said, "You come with me now and leave your children right there. You weren't supposed to bring your kids here in the first place. What were you thinking?"

"Well, I am sorry but it is the middle of the night and I couldn't just leave them at home! Excuse me!" I unclenched my children from my back and my sides and plopped them in a chair, covered them up with a blanket and told them to hold hands the whole time I was gone and not to let go no matter what. I told the guard he better not let anyone lay a hand on my babies. He wouldn't even look at me. He just shook his head at the bail bondsman and rolled his eyes.

Then, Jolie, my oldest, who was 9 years old at the time, pointed to the big letters across the wall and asked, "Mommy, what is Gwinnett Detention Center? Are we like in a jail? What did Daddy do?"

"Hey, um, that's interesting. Good reading, sweetie."

I posted bail with the bail bondswoman and they released Adrian. Adrian came walking out looking like he had been in jail for years instead of hours. They had taken his shoelaces and everything! It was the most pitiful thing to see him run, hobbling unsteadily into my arms with his shoes flippin' and a floppin' with each step to seek warmth and compassion and to cry on my shoulder.

"What in the hell have you done?" I asked.

"Nothing, I promise! It's all a big mistake!"

"Yeah, that's what they all say," said the bounty hunter.

"I will explain everything on the way home." Adrian whimpered.

Well, we got back home around 4:00 in the morning. Adrian's story was legit. It turns out he got pulled over for speeding and the computer said there was a warrant out for him due to an outstanding speeding ticket from 1980 in North Carolina. (NO, reader, I am not kidding.)

Well, we knew all about that mess since when Adrian went to apply for a new license a few years previously, this ticket had come up. From 1980!! The county in North Carolina had just updated their computers and they were going after all these old tickets. It was like a ten dollar fine back then and Adrian swore he paid it. However, to get his license, he had to pay it again. He did and it was all water under the bridge.

However, with their new fancy dancy computer program, they failed to update his status that it was paid (again) even though Georgia renewed his license.

When we got home, we literally tore apart the house because Adrian was convinced he had saved the receipt from North Carolina for paying the ticket from 1980 again. The kids stayed home from school because they were out all night picking up their father after "his car had broken down."

The next day, Adrian had to appear in court and he had the receipt from North Carolina! The judge said he was sorry for the misunderstanding and waived the new speeding ticket since having to stay in jail for 12 hours without the ability to make a phone call and having to spend $350.00 for bail was punishment enough. Not to mention he almost had a heart attack while he was in there and they had to give him a blood pressure pill! Oh, and he had to use a community toilet with his fellow inmates, all who were hard core criminals and he had to lay on the floor using his shoes as a pillow while he waited for 12 hours to pass so the jail could collect money from the state for housing him for a whole "day," and we had to pay an arm and a leg to get his car out of impoundment along with a hefty towing fee.

Any way..... so, the following day, the kids return to school. Sydney's teacher who had been soooo on my case all year long for being a bad mother for having a bad kid who couldn't read and write or follow directions, saw Jolie and Sydney in the hall way coming to school. "So, Sydney, why weren't you in school yesterday?"

"I am not supposed to tell." She replied

"You can tell me, it's OK." said the teacher.

"Um, we had to go get my dad out of prison." Sydney said. Then Jolie apparently hit her and said, "You weren't supposed to tell!"

And yeah, um... all that explaining that we were a fine family and Sydney's problems in school had nothing to do with us just fell on deaf ears after that.

I tried for 10 days to contact Sydney's teacher. I left voice mails.

"Um, hi, Mrs. Groce. This is Sydney's mom. I understand Sydney has told you we picked up her dad from prison. Well, it's just a misunder.... BEEEEEP!"

"Hi, it's me again, Abigail. Sorry, the voice mail cut out. Any way, I was just trying to explain that... BEEEEEEPPPP!"

"Ok, one more time. It was all a misunderstanding. See, back in 1980, Adrian got a BEEEEPP!"

"Voice mail box is full."

"Damn!"

"Sydney, please tell Mrs. Groce that Daddy was not in prison and he is not a criminal. No, actually, don't say that. That sounds like we're trying to cover for him. Um, how about just smile and tell her the police man made a mistake and Daddy didn't do anything wrong. Wait, no, that still sounds bad."

Any way...eventually, I got to talk to Mrs. Groce. She just held up her hand and said, "Hey, it's OK, it's none of my business."

And I was like, "But my husband didn't do anything wrong and he was not in prison! Well, he was in jail, but it was all a big mistake from 1980! Can you believe that? See, it's rather funny, isn't it?"

She didn't laugh.

And this is why you should never make any formal declarations that you are good parents because fate will teach you a lesson and you might just end up someplace without your shoelaces.

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