Typical

Jennifer seemed to have everything under control inside the ONT airport when I felt the need to bite her head off about pre-boarding passes and online check in. I would have to remember to apologize later but had to smile when the ticket counter clerk tried to smooth my awkward, embarrassing and uncalled for comments. Her line, "Oh they're just typical, I have daughters, too."
I just about lit into her and it may have gone something like this.
"Listen lady, just cuz I'm on the verge of a menopausal meltdown right now, I do not have a license to talk to my daughter like I just did. If you could have seen how much she has done to keep me from flipping out on the daughter operating on 1 hour of sleep, you would probably want me arrested."
It was a long day. There is no such thing as a family discount at UPS. We checked seven bags and carried on two computers, a suitcase of shoes, and one guitar. The flights were filled with delays, storms, and the kind of turbulence that makes you talk and laugh an octave higher.
When Jennifer sneaks out of bed to go chat with Melissa, I'm alone in her Chicago apartment for one last time. I cannot hold back the tears.
Call my kids sensitive, sarcastic, cynical, pranksters, opinionated, stubborn, and relentless. Call them neat freaks, sloppy, procrastinators, OCD, and lackadaisical but whatever you do, do not call them typical.
I am blessed.
And grateful.