After the incident with Preston going all cat fight and clawing and slapping the crap out of Holden’s face, my brother and I left on pretty good terms. Usually on Fridays I watch Preston, but my brother had the day off so he didn’t need my services- but invited us over (or out for lunch) instead.
That evening I wrote the blog. I know i’ve gotten myself into plenty of trouble thanks to the blog before, but I didn’t say anything in that blog that I hadn’t already said to my brother’s face, not to mention my brother is internet stupid and probably could never find my blog if he even tried (has never before, doesn’t even know the URL).
The next day when it was about an hour before lunch time, I decided to text my brother to see what the plans were. Were we going to meet somewhere? Eat at his house?
He never responded. Disappointed. All I wanted was a frickin’ burger and fries and now I had to settle with a bowl of stupid cereal. It isn’t unlike my brother to be ridiculously flaky and back out of things he says he’s going to do at the very last second… but usually I at least get some kind of text “o sorry!”
A couple of hours later I realized that I had loaned him my house key while we were at Disney so he could pick up our mail, and he had never returned it. I need my house key y’all. Our front door is totally screwy and doesn’t lock from the inside. The deadbolt HAS to be locked from the outside, and you have to have a key to do that. This meant I couldn’t go anywhere or leave the house unless Thomas was home. In case of an emergency where I needed to leave, I needed to be able to lock the house.
Again I texted him (he rarely, if ever, answers when you call), still no response. This was becoming highly unusual. My brother’s a flake, not the type to leave his precious phone behind or fail to respond to texts for hours at a time.
This became the theme of the weekend, and the longer he went without responding to my texts, and the more I sent to him trying to get him to respond, the more suspicious I became.
Was he hurt? Did his phone die? Did he fall off of the face of the earth? Can he just not receive texts from my new phone? Did he actually happen to find the blog on the ONE night I wrote an angry blog about his kid, and then get mad at me?
Well, if that were the case, giving me the silent treatment like a petulant brat isn’t exactly his style. He is confrontational to say the least. If he has a problem, he doesn’t pussyfoot around it. He certainly never had before anyways.
My mind raced. I just couldn’t think of any other reason why it would be taking him so long to respond to me. I know assuming is the stupidest thing you can do, but this was so out of character, and the timing fit up so well with the blog and the radio silence that it seemed to match too much to be a coincidence.
One day turned into 3 days, and I started to think that I was never going to get my house key back. I wasn’t going to get paid for watching Preston the past week. My brother’s girlfriend (and baby mama) was going to go ballistic on me… I probably wouldn’t be allowed to watch Preston anymore and I had really come to rely on that money (at least lately with the Disney trip). How would I resolve this if he wouldn’t talk to me? I mean honestly, I had a right to be mad for what Preston did to Holden. It isn’t like I went on some curse-filled-rant on the blog.
I had a bunch of people read the blog (or had already), and none of them thought there was anything that would piss him off (in fact they thought if anything, my brother should be embarrassed by what happened)… but when you talk about someone’s kid- you NEVER know what will set them off. People are protective.
Three days turned into four. Today. This morning I was absolutely convinced he was mad at me over the blog. We’ve not gone 4 days without speaking since he bailed on my kids double birthday party.
Around 10am my phone rang. I looked at the caller-ID, and sure enough, it was my brother’s name.In fear of being cursed out, I let it go to voicemail… and sure enough, he left a message. When I checked it (after wandering the house trying to get service, as this house is a complete dead zone), I was surprised that his voicemail made NO mention of the 20+ text messages i’d sent over the weekend, no mention of the blog or being angry… just once again inviting myself and the kids over.
I thought perhaps it was a set up, so I attempted to just bite the bullet and call him back, only every time I called I was met with the same message “All circuits are busy”
Again, suspicious. Thomas offered to give him a call to see if it was just my phone (since I appear to have gotten yet another defective piece of electronics). I don’t know the number off the top of my head, so I went to look it up for him… and that’s when I saw it. The area code was saved incorrectly. WRONG NUMBER! WHAT AN IDIOT I AM!
But then I paused… this didn’t quite make sense.
If I had saved the muber wrong, then WHY, when my brother called, did it show up as the name i’d saved him in my phone as under the wrong number (a nickname, and not his birth name that he is listed by, or even that he goes by anymore)
If I had saved the wrong number, how was I able to call and text him up until Friday using the contact i’d saved, supposedly with wrong area code?
How did this happen???
Well, I finally did get a hold of my brother… he never received a single one of my texts, and that’s why he hadn’t responded. Some random person in the Dominican Republic did.
He wasn’t mad at me, he didn’t die, he hadn’t read the blog. Nope, my dimwitted self and dimwitted phone worked together to nearly give me a stroke.
I swear, this ridiculous phone went in and changed the area code JUST TO MESS WITH ME, and then, when I could have been informed that the number my brother was calling me from was not in my contact book, thereby alerting me to the “mistake”, it instead listed that number as my brother as well.
I’m taking this stupid thing back and getting a new one! Probably just gave me 15 new gray hairs. Rat bastard.
I've never had a near death experience, but I DID find 2 spiders in my house this morning, and that's pretty much the same thing.
If you like to be constantly criticized over your peanut butter to jelly ratio on sandwiches, being a parent is definitely for you.
It's called "Mom Tax" and it applies to ALL SWEETS OBTAINED BY CHILDREN pic.twitter.com/VExGwIOdBn
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How I Unwind the Kids During Summertime goo.gl/fb/bqcdoV
Kid: When do I get the tablet back? Me: Thursday aftern--- Kid: *Yelling* I'LL NEVER GET IT BACK! Me: Okay, I guess never, then. #kidlogic
Being an adult is stupid. pic.twitter.com/ghkAP7UbIt
Me watching #AmericanNinjaWarrior: HAHA weak ass grip strength! Also me: Can't open a pickle jar.