There are times when
father doesn’t know best

Robyn’s Hood
By Robyn McCloskey

Last week I received one of those phone calls that every parent of a college student anticipates from the day they schlep the last cardboard box up to the dorm room.
While I worked at my computer, the phone rang and, through the miracle of caller ID, I saw that it was my Penn State sophomore Mallory. I answered with my usual cheery "Hi honey," which was interrupted with the cry of "Moooooom, I’m sooooooo sick, COME GET ME NOW!!!"
Never having been one of those moms who specializes in the whole "tough love" thing, I immediately said, "I’ll be right there," even though I’m a good three and a half hours away.
When my kids were little I was always saying to them those things that other parents advise you not to say. For example, any time we dropped them off at sleep-away camp, I would hand them a contraband cell phone and say, "If you get homesick, just call me any time of the day or night and mommy will come get you."
Not the best of parenting skills, I know. But I can’t help myself. Ironically, this usually worked in my favor as some sort of reverse psychology because they never did end up calling me to rescue them from sleep-away camp, even though there were plenty of nights my husband had to restrain me from trying.
So, with Mallory sounding delirious up in Happy Valley, I called my husband at work to inform him of my change in plans for the day; he responded with his annoyingly calm, level-headed, often logical approach to crisis.
"Let me call her."
Five minutes later my phone rang again. It was Mallory railing on about how mean daddy was because he told her that everybody gets sick in life and sometimes you just to have to buck up, blah, blah, blah!
So much for level-headed and logical. I called him again to explain my philosophy, which, in a nutshell, is that when your college-age child calls and cries for you to pick her up, you pick her up.
Besides, was he new around here? Did he really think that after years of telling our daughter I would pick her up anywhere, anytime, anyplace, that I could magically begin practicing tough love now?
He reluctantly agreed. And off I went to State College, Pa. The next day I took her to the doctor, who diagnosed the poor thing with mononucleosis.
So you know, of course, that I spent the rest of that day gloating to my husband.
"It’s a good thing I went and got her!"
"Boy, what kind of terrible mother would I have been if I hadn’t picked up my sick baby?"
This was made even sweeter when, two days later, my husband got sick and spent the entire day in bed. Mal and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to tell him that everybody gets sick in life and sometimes you just have to buck up, blah, blah, blah!
Funny how he didn’t seem to appreciate this sense of irony. Then again it’s hard to eat your words when your head is positioned above a toilet seat.
But all this sickness was not wasted. It seems that when you have mono there’s really not a lot that can be done beyond a lot of rest. And since my quality time with Mallory has diminished significantly since her move halfway across the state, I saw it as a perfect opportunity to hang out together.
So on that Friday night I convinced her to go to dinner and a movie with me. At first she protested, saying she was tired.
"But honey, we’ll be at a restaurant . . . all you have to do is sit there. And what could be more relaxing than lounging in a dark movie theater and munching popcorn?"
I knew she’d see things my way. We decided to go to a local restaurant that serves her favorite matzo ball soup, since that’s what she was craving. Then we went to see Definitely, Maybe, a current chick flick starring Ryan Reynolds as a newly divorced dad trying to explain to his daughter how his relationship with her mom blossomed and then just fell apart.
We enjoyed the movie as well as our time together. And now she knows that should she ever call me again to pick her up, I will, definitely. As for her father, it’s probably still a definitely, maybe. ••
Robyn McCloskey’s column appears each week in the Northeast Times. She can be reached at crmccloskey@verizon.net