The Bull, the Airport, and the Dog Poop Money

Some weeks just aren't for the faint of heart.

This week was one of them.

When I say it was tough, I mean bull tough.

Low potassium kicked my ass.

The best way I can describe it is like riding a bull for eight seconds, getting thrown off, and then having the damn beast come back and gore you just for good measure.

My energy disappeared.

The dizziness felt like I'd just spent an afternoon riding Disney's teacups. And if you've ever had the pleasure of that terrible ride, you know that all you want to do afterwards is put your head between your knees, kiss your butt goodbye, and pray you don't throw up.

Needless to say...

It wasn't exactly the week I'd planned.

I knew something wasn't right.

I've dealt with low potassium for much of my life, and I've gotten pretty good at recognizing when it's crashing.

Before heading to the city for my hair appointment—a two-hour drive—I stopped for routine blood work.

About halfway there my phone rang.

It was my doctor.

My potassium was critically low.

Now, most responsible adults would probably turn around and deal with the medical problem first.

I, however, had a hair appointment.

Ladies...

Let's be honest.

I was leaving for vacation.

The hair appointment was happening.

So I got my hair done.

Then I drove home.

Then I went to the hospital.

Then I sat there until one o'clock in the morning while they got everything sorted out, and I received a IV of potassium.

The next morning the packing still needed doing.

Laundry still needed doing.

The dogs still needed looking after.

The vacation still needed planning.

Because apparently life doesn't stop just because your body decides to throw a tantrum.

Fast forward to tonight...

Declan and I are sitting in a hotel attached to the airport.

Tomorrow morning our flight leaves at eight o'clock, which means we'll be making our way through international security at six in the morning.

Who decided six in the morning was an acceptable time for human beings to function?

We'll survive.

At least I hope we will.

Something I've realized already on this trip is how incredibly different it is travelling with a grandchild than it was travelling with my own children.

Being a parent meant worrying about everything.

Were they eating enough?

Were they learning enough?

Were they behaving?

Did I remember everything?

Was I doing enough?

Being a grandparent is...

Different.

I simply get to enjoy him.

And that's a gift I don't think I appreciate enough.

We're staying in the airport hotel.

To most adults it's just convenient.

To Declan?

It's fancy.

He danced down the hallway because there was music playing.

He proudly used my phone to unlock the hotel room like he'd just hacked into NASA.

Everything is exciting.

Everything is new.

Everything is an adventure.

Somewhere along the way, adults stop seeing the magic in ordinary moments.

Children remind us it's still there.

Then came one of my favourite moments of the day.

Before heading to the hotel, we stopped to exchange his Canadian money for U.S. money.

Now this wasn't just any money.

This was dog poop money.

For the past couple of months Declan has been scooping dog poop to earn spending money for our trip.

And if you've ever lived through an Alberta spring thaw...

You know that's not just dog poop.

That's months of frozen dog poop suddenly deciding to reintroduce itself to society.

The poor kid earned every penny.

So the lovely lady behind the glass exchanged his Canadian dollars for American dollars.

Declan looked down.

Counted his money.

Looked back up at her.

Then very politely asked,

"So... where's the rest of my dog poop money?"

I completely lost it.

The lady burst out laughing.

I burst out laughing.

I explained that when you exchange Canadian money for American money, the amount changes because of the exchange rate.

Declan looked straight back at the lady and, without missing a beat, said,

"Well... the USA didn't pick up the poop. I did. So they shouldn't get my money."

By this point even the gentleman standing behind us was laughing.

He leaned over and smiled at Declan.

"Just wait, lad. Someday the government will take half of it in taxes."

Honestly...

I don't know who laughed harder.

Me.

The exchange clerk.

Or the poor gentleman behind us.

Moments like that make everything else disappear for a little while.

The hospital.

The packing.

The exhaustion.

The stress.

For a few minutes I wasn't thinking about potassium levels or alarms set for six in the morning.

I was just Grandma.

Laughing with her grandson over a pile of very hard-earned dog poop money.

Tomorrow he'll probably spend four hours happily glued to his Nintendo Switch.

I'll probably spend four hours trying to catch up on work.

And when we land in Houston...

Rob will be waiting.

He'll probably already have our itinerary memorized.

The zoo.

NASA.

An alligator park.

Probably another alligator park.

He's been excited for weeks, planning every adventure he can think of.

And for the first time in what feels like forever...

I don't have to be the planner.

I don't have to be the organizer.

I don't have to carry everything.

For a little while...

I simply get to enjoy being Grandma.

And maybe...

Just maybe...

I'll even get to be the princess.

I'll see you all next week from Louisiana.

Hopefully with a few more stories, a little more energy, and memories that last a lifetime.

Love, laughter, and a little bit of chaos,

Fina

Veni, vidi, vici