What happens in Vegas Part 1: What happens before Vegas

My husband Dan goes to Las Vegas every couple years to attend a trade show.  For years I have been begging to tag along.  This year, out of the blue, he tells me I can go.  He had to cash in some frequent flyer miles and arrange a couple extra nights stay in the casino, but as long as I could get my mom to babysit, I was going to Vegas.

Mom said she could watch them...no problem.  She was watching my brother’s kids the week before, but they would be home in plenty of time.

My mom...I love her, but she is quite a character.  She is just naturally goofy.  (Obviously, like mother, like daughter.)  She will get all keyed up over small things.  Once she called me 4 times in one day asking if I sent a friend a thank you note. 

However, when something truly serious happens, she will act like it’s nothing.  Case and point....five days before leaving for my trip, I get the following call from my mother:

“Did you hear the news?” she says in a light breezy tone, “Brody (my nephew) drove his 4-wheel ATV into a tree, broke both arms and deeply cut his face.  Not to worry....He’ll be fine.    And...while I’m thinking about it...can you get a document allowing me to give consent for emergency medical treatment to your kids?  Brody screamed in agony for hours in the emergency room.  That stupid hospital refused to do anything until I could get your brother on the phone.” 

My next thoughts were frightening.  I imagined being interrupted during a show in Vegas by a light breezy phone call from my mother:

“Did you hear the news?  Chris (my son) did a swan dive off the roof of the house.  He’s in a coma, but besides that, everything’s fine.  Oh...by the way...while I have you on the phone...Does he have a living will?”

Anyways, my brother and sister-in-law came home from Florida.  Brody is adjusting to life without arms for the time being.  My mom came up to my house a couple days early.  Perhaps she felt the need to be out of town for a bit. 

Preparing to leave, I noticed Mom touch her cheek and wince while walking through Costco the day before my flight.   She stopped in the medicine aisle to pick up the largest bottle of Advil I had ever seen. 

“Are you expecting my kids to give you that big of a headache?” I joked.

“My tooth hurts.  It’s been bothering me for couple weeks now.”

I asked why she didn't call her dentist, which lead into the long explanation of how she hasn't been to a dentist in over 4 years.  Her long-time dentist was in his 90's and retired.  His replacement was rude to her during her last visit.  (I would tell you how rude, but Mom was using all the words she had always told me not to say.) She simply decided to quit going.

My dentist was able to see her right away.  Turns out, she had a fractured tooth and the only option was to pull it.  As she sat in the chair in pain, I texted my sister, using all the words I’m not allowed to say.  The text read something like “HOLY @$#%^@!&*%$#?”

My sister gave up her weekend so I wouldn't have to give up mine.  She babysat Mom while Mom babysat the kids. 

Hell...They had a party.  I called from the airport to let them know Dan and I arrived safely.  Nobody cared.  They were all to busy eating pizza and calzones.

Thanks Sis!