At all cost: protect the taco

I woke up at 4 a.m. today realizing in a panic that I'd forgotten my sister-in-law's birthday. I love my SIL. Despite her height and legs that go on for weeks, she's great. She's good to my kid. She laughs at her brothers with me. We lament the state of our A-nesses. (when I was chubbier, I had ambitions on a B-cup; she's never been that greedy. Or blessed.) Regardless, it's 4 a.m. and I wake up with Jen on my mind. I was possibly sleep deprives because Alison's been hacking with her annual summer cold, but regardless there it was: pre-dawn and I was wide awake. So I lay there a while debating the potential ways to make it up and hoping I'll sleep again. But no. So I write myself a note against the chance that I will forget again and check on the girl. Part of my unsettledness was the fact that I'd given her probably too much children's Nyquil, hoping to settle her cough. So, when she wasn't coughing, I was sure I'd killed her. Or at least put her in a Nyquil coma. Still can't sleep so I read a bit. Putter a bit and finally get back into bed. Alison's coughing again, but at least she's not dead. So I send Jen a note only to discover I'm early on her birthday. It's her first wedding anniversary I've forgotten. Happily, she and Peter have revisited their honeymoon suite so they shouldn't be bother anyway. Right? So I make a note to call the doctor to get real meds. I call at 8 sharp and wait all day long for a reply. We've been to this show before. I know what I need. I just need help with the pharmacist who, after all these years of faithful service, still refuses to recognize my medical degree. I have one thing after another at work, with a capper at the tail end that will have to wait for publication. I go get my child and Team Ogden, per our July agreement with summer camp -- they deliver; we pick up. It's a great deal. We need tacos for dinner because we get to keep the kids. In the drive up late, I forget my wallet is in the trunk buried under three sets of backpacks, wet towels, lunchboxes and swimming suits. Jeff calls, asking about the doctor and contemplating his order. It was a Calgon moment, let me tell you. But we carry on and get home to unload. "Anyone who isn't carrying food is on gets something from the trunk," I say. Alex has taken charge of the food. Alison and Hannah mutter something about favoritism and seem ready to toss Alex's stuff his way. Truth be told, Alex is my defender nine times out of 10 when something evil lurks in the minds of the trio. Plus, he'd sat shotgun with tacos on his lap. He even turned off his a/c vents for fear of cooling down the Mexican treat. "Hey! Protect the tacos! Geeze!" he shouts. Mission accomplished, they're downstairs with TV and tacos. They have no more need of me. I am useless to this equations. "Well, you did drive," offers Hannah on her way downstairs. Notes from the weekend: Ali spent Wednesday night thru Saturday with her cousins in "the country" as she calls it. "Hey, you know that place where the cousins live. Hymera? It's in a drought," she informed me. "Really?" I said. "Yeah. And that's bad because that's where most of my food comes from!" she said. "Oh really?" I inquired, thinking of my Kroger and Zeng Garden bill. "Well. Except for Oreos. You can't grow those," she said. She also told her cousins how lucky they are that there are three of them. Numbers are important when it comes to chore distribution, apparently. Seems she's getting ripped off having to do it all herself here at home... I think I'm going to co-opt the Ogdens.