Don't call me, I'll call you

Happy New Year, everyone!  I hope you all had a fabulous holiday season.

I'd tell you posting more is my New Year's resolution, but I don't believe in resolutions...

I'd tell you I've made it a goal to post more in the new year, but that would be a lie.  I do want to post more than I have been (which honestly wouldn't exactly be hard to do), but I feel if I set that as a goal, I'd just be setting myself up for failure.

So how about we just see what happens, shall we?

I've actually wanted to post this story for a while, but you know how it goes with the holidays.  Last minute shopping, cooking, all that work that has to be done before the end of the year.  You feel me.

Anyway.  A few weeks ago, as I was on my way home from the gym, I discovered I had a whole day ahead of me and no plans.

As I'd been trying to talk Dad into going to see Lincoln with me, I checked showtimes.  At this point, Lincoln has been in theaters for a while, and showtimes were limited.  But lo and behold, there was a showing in 40 minutes.

Now, Dad's movie-going experiences with me have been somewhat ... dramatic.  For some reason, we generally end up going to see movies with some kind of resulting animal abuse, and it never ends well for all involved.  I'm usually screeching in horror or crying or both.  Therefore, he had been somewhat resistant to my previous suggestions that we go see Lincoln.

But I figured we were safe with this one.  I mean, the story focuses on Lincoln, himself.  Not the war.  Right?

Well I was wrong, but that's a story for another time.

So I called Dad and told him Lincoln started in 40 minutes, if he was interested in going to see it.  To my surprise, he agreed.

Dad:  Do you think your mother would want to see it?
Me:  Umm, not really.  Considering she hates history, but I'll send her a text and let her know.  She can meet us at the theater if she wants.

The movie started at 12:30, and I still had to get home, shower and get over to the theater.

In the ensuing rush, I forgot to text Mom.  As I was driving to the theater, I called and left a message in her voicemail, informing her that Dad and I were going to see Lincoln at 12:30, and she could join us if she was so inclined.

I knew, in addition to having absolutely no interest in history, she also doesn't leave church until almost 12:30.  But I had done my duty and informed her of our plans.

I won't review the movie here.  However, let me just say, Daniel Day Lewis has that Oscar locked down.  Everyone else better just prepare their "it's an honor just be nominated" speeches. 

The movie was amazing.  It was also very, very long.  When we finally exited the theater, I pulled out my phone to turn the volume back on.

Which is when I realized I had six missed calls from my mother.

Me:  I have six missed calls from Mom.  Why would she call me when I told her we were going to see a movie, and she knew I wouldn't answer???
Dad:  I don't know.  She called me several times, too. I could feel the phone vibrating.

So instead of discussing the movie with Dad, I walked to my car, dialing Mom back as I went.

My call was answered and... silence.

Me:  Mom???
Mom:  Yes.

Uh oh.  I knew that tone.

Me:  I left you a message that we were going to see a movie.

Silence.

Me:  Did you check your voicemail?
Mom:  I didn't get any message.  I don't know how to get voicemail on this phone.

Robbie recently upgraded his and Christa's phones to the iPhone 5, and Mom and Dad inherited their iPhone 4s.

It seems, during iPhone orientation, he forgot to cover the section on how to retrieve voicemail...

Soooo, I then gave Mom a tutorial on how to listen to voicemails.

She was less than interested.

Me:  I guess I should have texted you, but I was driving.
Mom:  Well, I saw the missed call from you, so I tried to call you back, but you wouldn't answer.  So when I left church, I drove by your house, but you still wouldn't answer, and I didn't see Winston in the window, so I headed home.  But on the interstate, I saw several police cars with lights and sirens headed north, and I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD, so I turned around and headed back to your house and visited with Winston for a while, waiting for you to get home...

Obviously she was trying to lay the mother of all guilt trips on me, but it wasn't working because A) my mind couldn't reconcile the fact that she passed emergency vehicles on the interstate and she somehow concluded that it was related to my demise and B) I left her a message!

Me:  Well next time I'll text you.

So then I called Dad...

He answered with a much more acceptable "hello"...

Me:  We're in trouble.  Well, I'm probably in more trouble than you are.  Because she thought I was dead!
Dad:  Oh good Lord...

So then I recounted our conversation for him.

Me:  At least we know I come by my flair for the dramatic honestly.
Dad:  Yes.  That's true.

Shortly thereafter I received the following text:

Dad:  Awful chilly here.  Puppy even deserted when I came in.  Cats still with me though!
Me:  Cats are fickle creatures.  All she'd have to do is crack a cat food can & you'd be forgotten.
Dad:  True.
Me:  I blame Robbie for not going over "how to listen to voicemail" in iPhone 101
Dad:  You can relay that to him although she never checked messages on the old phone either.

Point.

A few hours later, I called Mom under the guise of asking for advice.

Because we all know there's no easier way to get your mom to forgive you than to ask for advice.

I'm sure you'll be happy to know I was, in fact, forgiven.

And I've learned my lesson.  I'll never leave her a voicemail again.