Hey y’all, so I must start this week with a little confession. See, I got a little — what do they say? — put the buggy before the horse last week and mentioned this would be a weekly column — not knowing exactly what that would entail.
I’m super grateful for the response I got from everyone, and I’m glad y’all are eager to hear my motherhood, mayhem, and meeting stories, but I think I should stick to an every-other-week column or perhaps even a monthly one.
Nevertheless, let’s dive back into a story!
Last week, I discussed my wild second child, so this week I’m going to focus on my oldest. My sweet Gavin has always been the best kid, what every parent dreams of — sweet, caring, respectful, quiet, follows the rules — all those good first-born qualities. I had it so easy raising him until he got to the teenage years.
Now, don’t get me wrong, he’s a good teenager, too, but he’s not afraid of anything and at 16 is practically a grown man. I’m guessing my dad’s genes got him because he towers over all of us at almost 6-foot-3, and he looks at least 20 years old.
Memorial Day was one to remember this year, as he got into his first accident, and it was a bad one, but thankfully, he walked away with just a minor concussion. He was really only worried that he might miss church camp the following week; not that he couldn’t remember his address, his cell phone number, or what day it even was.
Scared the daylights out of me, but after about two hours, the shock wore off on him. Or the fear of getting a shot kicked in, as he went somewhat back to himself. The doctor cleared him to go to camp, and all was well … until it wasn’t.
Gavin left on a Monday, and on Tuesday, a coworker came into my office to ask how I was really doing, because, well, life had been going on. I was telling him I was hanging in there when my phone rang.
“Hi, Mrs. Harris, this is Rebecca from Shorter College, and we have Gavin in here, and we are fixing to take him to the emergency room. His retina may be detached. He took a football to the eye pretty hard, and his pupils are not the same, and he can’t see.”
Are you kidding me? I’m sure I turned white as a ghost because I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or be sick. She followed up with, “You might want to head this way.”
It was at that time that I let her know he was just in a car accident and had a concussion. Of course, he didn’t mention that.
Thankfully, his youth pastors took him to get checked out (shoutout to Jay Reber and Nick Teal), and I didn’t have to make the three-hour drive.
He ended up being just fine.
My co-worker didn’t know what to say other than, “You couldn’t make this up if you tried.” And then, just like that, the idea came into fruition that I should document this mayhem and start a column!
It wasn’t just the wreck and then the camp injury, though. It was the lightning strike on our house that fried our well pump and caused $10K in damages along with a week-long motel stay with a feral toddler because we couldn’t use our water, plus being short-staffed at work, and can’t forgot having no-childcare for said toddler for the month of May, and about 20 other events I had been facing prior to all this.
Raising a toddler, a teenager, juggling work, and not running away should qualify anyone for an extended stay at an all-inclusive beachside resort, but here I am, surviving and pushing through.
One thing it has taught me is there is nothing that surprises me anymore — absolutely nothing — and that I should share my madness and mayhem, just so that when you’re in the thick of it like I stay, you can just know you’re not alone!
We shall see how this column thing goes. Until next time!
XO Heather Harris is the sales director of Smith Communications Inc. She can be reached at heather@msgrnews.com or 706-707-4240.