TBO.com - TBO is Tampa Bay Online

I Can't Wait To See What The Rest Of The Year Holds

ADVERTISEMENT

By Dawn Zamanis

Published: January 17, 2007

Brandon, FL - Brandon, FL - I am ready to write my 2007 Year in Review column.

Yes, I am well aware that we are only 20 days into the New Year but, quite frankly, I do believe I have seen enough in these few infant days of 2007 to give an assessment.

I'm still searching for the "Kick Me" sign that I swear is taped to my back. I even asked a woman in Wal-Mart to examine my back side. She didn't spot one either. And she thought I was nuts. She was right on both accounts.

So I share with you my brand new days of a brand new year at the Zamanis household.

Everything seemed pretty normal the first few hours of New Year's Day. "Normal" in my house meant nothing was on fire, no one was MIA and I could actually identify my boys by their correct names the first try.

I was in good spirits and New Year's Eve was quite peaceful and enjoyable. We watched the ball drop at Times Square in New York, my hometown, and after we got up to hug, we all poked each other in the eye accidentally (no lie) and everyone went to bed with icepacks over their eyeballs.

New Year's Day we got a late start. I was still in my pajamas when my bell rang. At my door was a teen from the neighborhood with his dad's trailer attached to his dad's new SUV to empty my garage of its growing pile of junk.

I was unprepared because he never said he was coming that day, but figured I'd get it done while I had the chance. It felt great having the garage emptied (a side-by-side fridge had been taking up half of the garage as was an old loveseat that was collecting dust. I also threw in about 40 Hefty bags of trash for good measure. Off to the dump on Fowler he went (or so he told me.)

At noon, and still in my pajamas, I was greeted at my door and read my Miranda rights. Yes, my faithful readers, I was about to be placed under arrest outside in front of my modest home while wearing only mismatched PJs and a pair of fluffy striped socks that reached to my knees. I threw on a robe and some lip gloss, figuring if I were going to the slammer, I wanted to look presentable. But I never made it past having my rights read.

As humiliating as that may have been to anyone else in that position, I was nearly unfazed because I realized rather quickly (after having only one cup of cold coffee) that the officer had the wrong guy.

The police had tracked me down after rummaging through my trash that the kid had dumped at the entrance of my elite development and finding a receipt with my name on it.

They soon realized, however, that rather than being an illegal dumper, I was just a duped mom who obviously wasn't starting the New Year off on a high note.

I have since invested in a commercial-grade paper shredder. I only wish I had purchased one years earlier. It really helps channel anger, frustration and annoyances. It beats expensive therapy sessions. Sometimes I find myself shredding things just for the sheer satisfaction of hearing the sharp metal teeth grind away and tear to shreds anything that shove into it.

The following days were really not much better but when you've nearly been arrested in your pajamas on New Year's Day, you really tend to take things with a grain of salt.

But I really did not expect to be called by the police while working from home a day or two later. As it turned out, a teen getting off the bus stop near my home hurled a rock at my 8-year-old, causing a concussion. His twin brother called 911 and then called me. Then came the dilemma -- whether to have the ambulance take my baby away without me so I could locate my three other kids and make sure they were safe before I headed to the hospital.

I ended up driving him to the hospital myself. My 8-year-old is OK, thank God, no internal bleeding, but not allowed any physical activity for two weeks.

Enter twin No. 2 one day later. Wrestling with the neighborhood kids, all in good fun, despite my stern warnings, he fractures his foot, and off we go to the same hospital I'd left just hours earlier.

With FCATs just around the corner for these two all-American third-grade boys, I sent the concussion patient to school with his doctor's OK but twin No. 2 was down for the count.

These were my options for getting him back to school

1. I could purchase child-size crutches and send him back to school and risk a fall and more severe injury. But he would be prepared for FCATs.

2. I could rent a wheelchair and beg someone to wheel him from class to class. I could envision the antics in the hallway.

3. I could locate a baby stroller at Goodwill and wheel him around school myself, emotionally scarring him for life.

4. I could keep him home until he was able to walk again.

I went with my last option.

So that's how the New Year began. I can't wait to see what the rest of 2007 has in store.

Dawn Zamanis is a Valrico resident and the mother of five sons. She has been a freelance writer for national magazines and news publications and can be contacted through thebrandonnews@mediageneral.com.

Share this:

Loading Comments...

Email Print

ADVERTISEMENT