Motherhood From the Edge of the Map: The Tina Chronicles

"I'll ways be your girl, Tina!"

When Andrew was offered a job in our lovely Carolina town, it was a no-brainer deciding to pick up and move. Most of our family had either moved, was in the process of moving or was planning to move anyway. Although we knew we’d miss our family and friends tremendously, we wanted to see what else was out there for us in these great United States, other than over-inflated housing prices and 45 minute drives to the dentist (3 miles away…) So with TWO WEEKS notice, we packed up and shipped out. Hoping we’d really love our town (and thank goodness, we do!), we started our new endeavor…alone. We had so many friends from so many years of living in the DC area, it was kind of a jolt enter into a world with no friends. Po’ Brownie! Little did I know that in a few short months, I would enter into a period of my life dubbed, “The Tina Chronicles;” named for the adventures of my next door neighbor and friend Tina. She would take me under her wing and help me navigate my way through my new town and through many of the new, and sometimes difficult, experiences I would face as my children continue to grow and change. Of course I still love and value of my old friends; and the unique relationships and flavor they bring to my life. I just never thought I’d ever have a new friend I can love and trust like my others.

It would be impossible to describe our “duo status” using mere words. I could write for miles and still not do our friendship justice. With our glasses of chardonnay planted firmly in our hands, we are mostly…

A typical Friday at 5PM looks like this:

We are part...

Cause we're cool like Fonzi, but sweet like Richie. We play like...

Sometimes we're...

And when we are...

I'm ALWAYS "Donkey," because I talk too much. When we both lost weight, we became...

And when our "show" starts, late at night (usually after Bunco) we become...

But we're always like...

If we were Batman and Robin, we'd look like this...

Well, not really...but everyone probably thinks that about us.

And then there's just us. Me and Tina.

I can recall the very night that defined our relationship. We were neighbors and friends, sure. We would see each other frequently sitting on our respective back porches with wine, while our husbands cooked out. Sometimes we’d wander back and forth from back yard to back yard to chit-chat, but very casually. Tina and her husband are from here (born and bred) and well, we’re not. They had a very established circle of friends and well, we didn’t. But one night, Tina and I found ourselves sitting on her covered front porch (“gettin’ into our wine,” as Tina would say.)

We were talking and laughing and watching the sun go down. Suddenly we both heard a strange noise. We live near a lot of fields and woods, so it’s not unusual to hear “nighttime” animal sounds. But this one was different. It sounded teeny, and it sounded distressed. Oh, and I should mention, it sounded like it was coming from our across-the-street neighbors’ shrubbery. Tina and I leapt into action, risking the embarrassment of having our neighbors call the police on suspicion of prowling in their bushes.

The same neighbor who inquired about the dancing she’d witnessed occurring in my dining room…late night…after wine…with Tina. That’s right, the night is never over without a dance party. We trolled around and eventually discovered the squealing was originating from a tiny baby bunny that was being hunted/toyed with/batted around by Smokey the big grey cat who ALSO lived across the street. We knocked on our neighbors’ door (here we go again.)

And requested permission to get the bunny away from Smokey. Our neighbor agreed, and even agreed to grab her cat (which was in their own yard, minding it’s own business, unlike us two troublemakers…) and sustained a nasty cat bite in the process. Oops. Our bad. But with wine on the mind, we didn’t exactly think of what we were going to do next. We had a baby bunny in a shoe box and it was 9:30 at night. So there we were in my office, surfing the internet for animal rehabilitators in our area. We found one who agreed to take the bunny immediately. With me behind the wheel, and Tina holding the box full of baby bunny, we were off…it was now 10 PM.

From the main road we turned down an dimly lit street, which turned into a faintly lit street, which turned into a non-lit street. I was silently watching Tina’s face, trying to get a read on what she thought about this who fiasco. Tina is a well-raised Southern lady. She has great manners, poise and composure. Was she just doing this to be polite? Was she just too nice to tell me how crazy she thought I was? After tonight, would she never speak to me again?

As we approached the rehabbers house, a man was waiting for us. “I have money!” I blurted out, “I’ll make a donation!” I looked at Tina. Her silent face read: horrified. We followed the man to the house. On the front porch, there were several cages in various stages of occupancy. When we entered the house, two or three HUMONGOUS dogs immediately stuffed their noses in our crotches and an overwhelming stench of stale cigarette smoke and ashtrays filled our noses…and clothes. One of the dogs was a rottweiler. I was immediately reminded of the “Family Vacation” movies, in which the dog humps Clark Griswold’s leg. “It best to just let him finish,” cousin Eddie instructs. “Oh God,” I thought. “What have we gotten ourselves in to?!” I looked over at Tina again. I almost burst out laughing. She was silent still, but if the expression on her face could speak, it would say, “WHAT THE FUCK?! THIS IS THE FILTHIEST, MOST DISGUSTING HOUSE I HAVE EVER SEEN! I THINK I MAY THROW UP! OOOPS! I JUST DID THROW UP IN MY MOUTH A LITTLE BIT! HOW DO YOU PEOPLE LIVE LIKE THIS? AS SOON AS I LEAVE, I AM CALLING DSS! YOU PEOPLE ARE FOUL! I HAVE TO GO HOME AND BURN MY CLOTHES…AND MY SKIN…”

They rehabbers had a dining room table, but it was covered in cages with various critters inside.

In every corner, of every other room in plain sight, we saw views like this...

And this...

I suppose I knew what to expect. I’ve worked with animals long enough to know that folks who rehab wildlife and usually lean towards the “hippy” granola side of life. I wasn’t all that shocked by seeing a cage with baby raccoons housed in the fireplace where normal people put logs.

A lady who weighed about 80 pounds and spoke with the low, husky voice of a veteran smoker took possession of the bunny and told us to be cautiously optimistic. She told us that the man who met us at the end of her driveway was her son, and she also had two grandsons asleep downstairs. I looked at Tina, and just when I thought she couldn’t look any more distressed, and new look of horror appeared on her face. I gave the woman a check to help cover her costs, and we left.

As we began our drive home, we were both quiet. Then suddenly, at the same time, we both burst out laughing…the nervous laughter that accompanies a “what in the HELL just happened?” situation. I believe it was in that moment that we discovered we are both, “it could only happen to me” kind of people. That as we walk through life, it is not uncommon for us to find ourselves in the most unusual of situations and circumstances. That those strange situations provide the color and entertainment in our otherwise “normal, average” lives. That instead of “it could only happen to me,” was now “it could only happen to us.” We've been getting ourselves into interesting predicaments ever since. “The Tina Chronicles” was born.

Sky rocket in flight…Tina Delytte…Tina, Tina, Tina Delytte (more on her middle name later…!)