CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- It was the last thing I wanted to do. Or so I thought.
This past Monday was my daughter's 15th birthday. The only thing Celeste wanted was a ticket to the Vans Warped Tour, an all-day series of concerts that was scheduled for the day after her birthday.
One of Celeste's best friends was going and asked if she'd like to go too. The tickets weren't too awfully expensive, so I went online and in a few minutes, had her present picked out, paid for and printed.
So how many years am I going to have to spend in this life of mine to know that nothing can ever be so simple?
Sometime in the afternoon on Celeste's birthday, the mother who had agreed to take the girls to Cincinnati found out she couldn't go.
The girls were crushed. Especially my girl.
On her birthday.
Had it been any other day, I'd have told her to suck it up and deal, but this had me turned inside-out. She asks for so little. Wanted this so much. I needed to find a way to make it work.
But taking her myself wasn't easy. My car is a relic. It transcended being "older" and slipped into "vintage" awhile back, meaning it wasn't reliable enough for two 3 1/2-hour drives in one day. Making matters worse -- at least for the status-conscious teens -- my car is a station wagon. If there was a symbol for uncool, it would be shaped like a wagon.
Fortunately, my ex-husband, Mitch, offered to let us use his convertible, though the girls made me promise not to put the top down until the trip home. There were hairstyles to consider.
By the time we hit the road Tuesday morning, we'd added a few additional passengers. Along with me and Celeste were two more girls and a boy. The boy was an interesting one. He correctly used the word "verisimilitude" in a sentence, thereby endearing himself to me in a way I doubt few teen boys could manage.