Friday, August 28, 2009

The Bride Still Needs her Mommy

I hate how addicted and tied I am to technology. I feel like my cell phone has been an extension of my body for the last 16 years. Yes . . . I had an original brick phone. I had to carry a huge purse just to accommodate its size. I’m sure I’ll end up with some sort of brain cancer that is linked to the radio waves from holding a phone so close to my ear for decades. I sleep with it. It is more intimate with me than any man . . . meaning I let it spend the night.

I hate my new phone. First it didn’t let me transfer any of my contacts from my last phone. No SIM card. Verizon couldn’t get their thingamagig to work. Unless I wanted to manually enter everything I was out of luck. I’m too lazy for that! I just turn on the old phone and use it as a rolodex. Second, the battery SUCKS!!! One little warning and five minutes later the phone is dead. No warning. No time to find your car charger. What kind of stupid phone doesn’t allow for a time crunch? What if I left my phone and wall charger at home? Am I supposed to suffer without being accessible? What if someone needs me?

Well, it happened. Tonight on my way to dinner the single beep warning with the low battery warning flashed. My car charger was in my carry on from the weekend. My wall charger, it’s in bed of course, because that is where my phone lives and revitalizes at night. It’s just a quick business dinner. What can happen in a couple of hours? Well, my sister is pregnant and due at any minute, but my fam knows I’m with Kel, they will call her phone if there is an emergency.

Dinner and wine with a creepy sales rep. I am doing a favor for Kel. She knew him twenty-five years ago. He found her on Facebook. What was I to do but agree to meet him? Plus he flew into town for the meeting.

The 911 please call me text was left unanswered.

I didn’t know I had five missed calls.

Ky was smart enough to call Kel on her cell. She knew we were together. How was she to know Kel was sitting on her phone? Cell phone etiquette, she had it set to vibrate. For most this wouldn’t be a problem. For most, sitting on a vibrating phone would be a pleasurable thing. Problem is, my best friend Kel has no feeling below her breasts! The wheelchair might have felt the multiple shakes for help, but not us.

It wasn’t until I got home and plugged in my phone that I heard the calls for help.

“Mom, please call me.”

“911, answer please!”

“I’m in the ER”

Panic hit. Who is in the ER? Is my sis having Little L? Has The GOB passed out? Is Stretch getting yet another set of stitches? What is going on?

I called and got a quiet yet sad little voice. Kyky said she gashed her leg open but they were getting ready to stitch her up.

My baby’s first stitches. Twenty years and I have never taken her to the ER. My phone was dead! I am the worst mom ever.

“Don’t come, Stretch is with me. I’m OK.”

F*u!@ THAT I’m on my way!!!!

I’m not sure who was happier to see me. The fiancĂ©’ who was tired and not sure what the hell he was supposed to be doing. Or my baby who was sheltering her face from the sewing of her flesh from behind her token hoodie. Either way, they both needed me and it felt morbidly wrong. I didn’t care that they needed the $100 co-pay, the insurance papers filled out or the hands held. I was there and they needed me.

We all survived the stitches. Stretch escaped in the parking lot. I got to drive her home. Stop to get her dinner. Bring her drugs, elevate her leg and assure her that it didn’t look that bad. I reminded her that she thought Tea length dresses were dorky and that they were the only ones that would show the scar. I was needed.

She finished her burger and I reassured her that Maderma would erase the night, and then she asked me to wash the blood off her foot. I ran to the bathroom to ready a warm cloth. As she sat on the dining room chair eating curly fries, I washed the blood from her leg and in between her toes. I asked, “Do you feel like Jesus?” She gave me a look like WTF are you talking about? I was thinking about my little niece getting her feet washed by her Catholic School teacher on Ash Wednesday. Suddenly I remembered the lesson and laughed. Oh yeah, Jesus washed the feet. That means I’m Jesus!

We both went to bed happy, sore and sad that technology failed us, but happy that the night ended together. OMG, I am the Mother of the Bride, and she still needs me!

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

"Your Mama Don't Dance and Your Daddy Don't Rock n' Roll"

It was all I could do tonight to drag myself out of the house to the Def Leppard concert. A month ago I was excited to relive my life in the eighties. I wanted to poof my hair into rats and dawn tight levis and a torn t-shirt but tonight all I wanted to do was curl up in bed. I have been suffering from a horrible cold and I had really been looking forward to a night of a codeine enduced coma.

It is an outdoor concert. No lawn chairs allowed though so I can't crash in my super deluxe $100 beach chair that I bought for the last concert. Blankets are ok . . . does that mean I can bring a pillow? I can totally survive Cheap Tricks if I have a pillow and an extra blanket.

Wake up! How old am I!? I can do this. Buck up. I'm the cool mom. The young mom that all Ky's friends wish was their mom. I can't let them down and be the party pooper. Put on your tightest jeans and I have a zebra print T - close enough to the 80's. Take some drugs and plan to buy a lot of beers and I can make it through this. I'm just really thankful that we didn't have to get here hours in advance to get good seats. The older you get, the less you care about being front and center.

Driving into the parking lot I am feeling a little odd. I'm dressed way too conservative for this crowd. The people that are my age have obviously saved their clothes from high school and attempted to pour themselves in to old mini skirts and the hand torn concert t's. You know the ones where you made precision cuts to form an intricut design down the sides or the center of your back. One woman was wearing a zebra print unitard, complete with her g's underneath showing proud. Not a good look!

Then there was the new generation of fans pulling up on their Harley's, all tattooed and wearing bandanas. The girls were in skin tight jeans with spike heels. Totally appropriate to be tromping through the grass of the outdoor venue.

I found the wristband line so I can get beer. I will survive, they even have microbrews so I can be a beer snob!

Whew - the crowd sat through Cheap Tricks. That gave me time for the cold meds to settle in and the sniffles to stop. You can't be cool blowing your nose while giving the rock on hand gesture.

Poison is up. Mama can't and has never been able to dance so things are ok. Pretty sure Daddy never rock n' rolled either. Can't be sure what he is doing now but I will find out at a later date. CC DeVille is rockin' and I think I'm enjoying it. Their bass player is sick so Bon Jovi's is filling. Gotta love Bon Jovi. And bless the guy for learning the songs twenty minutes before show time. I'm feeling like I owe them some standing time. I'm not swaying anymore, only mildly swinging to the rythym. No head banding yet.

Bless the long intermissions. My friend has to potty a lot and I thank my bladder control as I curl up on the blanket in between acts.

Finally, 3 hours later and Def Leppard is finally on stage. Cold medicine is in full strength and I am actually enjoying myself. I'm not feeling bad that I couldn't bring a pillow. Not that they weren't allowed because some loser girl behind me has one. But if I had brought one I too would be a loser girl! I'm acutally bouncing, drinking my beer(s) and having a good time. Do I feel like I did in the 80's when I loved this music? NO! In the 80's mama would have been in the mosh pit coming home with broken toes and ripped pants. Tonight I'm just hoping to beat the traffic rush out of here!

Love my hair bands! Not saying that Poison or Def Leppard have to be on the dance play list at the reception. Bon Jovi is a must though!

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Future Mother-In-Law from HELL

I did something every parent has wanted to do but knew they shouldn’t . . . I told my daughter’s boyfriend exactly what I thought of him. Yes, mama had been to the bar and it was not a good thing. I crossed the line that parents are supposed to respect. I didn't stay on my side of the line drawn in the imaginarey sand and I would never be able to erase the footprints I left that night. Actually I had spent the evening with my girlfriends drinking wine, quilting and bitching about life in general. We got on the subject of Stretch, AKA, the daughter’s boyfriend. Truly I like the guy but every mom can find those things that just are not good enough for her little one to be stuck with. My list is petty and really quite shallow when I think back on it.

Well, with the bitch session fresh on my mildly inebriated brain I headed home to find a small gathering of Kyky’s friends in my living room. They were having their own little party and invited me to join. I am the cool mom after all. Well, I opened myself a bottle of wine because I have outgrown the shots of tequila and cheap beer that they were partaking of. Classless, I drank it straight from the bottle. Bad idea! First of all, that little time that it takes for one to refill their wine glass also gives you the time to rethink if you really need one more drink. Drinking straight from the bottle gives you no time to consider the amount you are letting in. Plus how tacky! Shame on me!

Music was going, kids were laughing and reminiscing, it was a great time. But where was Stretch? Oh, he was the long blob lying on the floor sleeping. Was it really that hard for him to try to mingle and carry on a drunken conversation with Kyky’s friends? Like a drunken conversation is all that deep and hard to participate in? No, he was tired and decided to crawl up and take a nap, leaving Kyky to entertain their guests alone.

This really irritated me! Kyky does tons of stuff with his friends and I know that she would never take a nap during a party. I have taught her to be better than that. Well, my brilliant solution to this was to draw smiley faces on his knees with self tanning cream. For days he would have to look at those smiling knees and think that he was the sleeping ass that got drawn on at the party. Not the drunken kid that gets Sharpied, but the loser who doesn’t like to socialize and gets taken on by the drunken mother of his girlfriend. Sure am glad I’m too mature for tequila and cheap beer.

All the laughing finally got Stretch to open his eyes. He grumbled a bit then smiled and agreed that he should join in the fun. Soon I found myself having a nice little chat with the guy.

Out of wine, I poured a velvety smooth shot of Bourbon for Stretch and myself. After all his is a whisky boy and I thought I would introduce him to a bit of Kentucky culture. I love a nightcap of good Bourbon, however, not after a night of wine. Bourbon is something that should be sipped and enjoyed, not shot and guzzled.

Suddenly I lost all control of my vocal functions! Things started blurting out of my mouth before my brain could tell me STOP!!!! I switched from thanking him for battling my bamboo to attacking his every move. Everything bad that I had ever thought about Stretch started to string together into this horrible lecture of how he wasn’t good enough for my little girl. I told him he chews his fingernails, wears hats to dinner, never says thank you, and is holding her back! It never ended. I went so far as to say I wished she was sleeping with her best friend Eric. And the worst thing was Eric was standing right there! It was Eric that finally got me under control, but the damage had been done. Stretch’s eyes were watery. I had hurt him and I couldn’t take it back. What had I done?

How embarrassing for poor Kyky. Here I am telling the love of her life that he isn’t good enough for her. Not nicely, but in a drunken state of chaos. I’m sure the harsh words were slurred and made little sense, but that didn’t hide the viciousness.

Forced to the basement, I went to bed. In the middle of the night I awoke to the horror of what I had done. I couldn’t take it back. How could I fix it? I couldn’t. All I could do was send a text apologizing and how pathetic and cowardly was that? I called my best friend to tell her what I had done and all she could say was oh no, you didn’t!

Somehow, Stretch courageously attended Mother’s Day Brunch that Sunday. I don’t know how he could look at me and I barely made eye contact. Knowing I wouldn’t have the balls to say everything I needed to I wrote him a note.

I don’t even know how to begin to apologize for my horrible behavior the other night. You truly did not deserve one bit of that. I know there is no reason on earth why I should have had you be the recipient of my built up anger for a lot of things. I feel so bad for what I did to you and Ky and I’m not sure how I’m going to ever begin to set things straight.
I really do love you. You are a great guy and do so much for me and my family and would do anything for Ky. We would be lost without you. I don’t have any real issues with you and Ky and I fully expect that you will be a part of our lives for the long haul and I’m happy with that.
Of course there will always be little things that bug me but that’s what mothers do. It’s in our nature to be over protective but not beastly!
There is no way I would choose Eric over you and I can’t believe I said that. You are a much better person.
I don’t blame you for anything Ky is doing in her life other than I wish you would go do more together. You make her a better person in a lot of ways.
Ky loves you and I know you love her. That is all that I want for both of you.
Please let me try to redeem myself. I owe a lot of apologies but none more than to you and Ky.

He, being the bigger person confronted me. We made up, but didn’t hug.

Two nights later Stretch showed up on my doorstep. Ky wasn’t home so I was a bit baffled. I invited him in for a beer, NO BOURBON! Not quite knowing what to do, I turned on American Idol. How weird of me! He sat and we watched for about an hour. Finally, a timid voice said, “I’m not quite sure how to say this . . . “

I stopped him! Saying, “ please let’s just forget the other night ever happened. I’m so embarrassed and I just want us to move on and be friends.”

His reply . . . “it’s not about that, I want to marry your daughter.”

My heart sank. The other night when I was belittling him and saying he wasn’t good enough, he already had the beautiful one carat diamond at home locked in his safe.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Can a MOB be a MILF?

I've always loved the idea of being a MILF. I want to be Stickler's mom. So does that mean I need to get a reception center with a pool table? My daughter didn't go to band camp, but I definitely had trampoline camp happening outside my bedroom window. Being only 19 years older than Kyky's friends it has been kind of easy. The idea of doing it with a Cougar is trendy and I'm an easy target. Actually, I'm not a Cougar yet, I consider myself a little Bobcat because my elbows haven't started to dimple and I'm not 40. The fact that I sell sex toys males me a little more intriguing.

I don't have a date, so is it inappropriate to start choosing the line based on age and sexuality, or sexual preference? I'm not allowed to play with Kyky's friends because the hottest one hit on me once... or twice.

I have this not-so-understated apron that I wear with some special black and white stilettos that I sometimes think might be a fun MILF outfit. Kyky would die to know that the apron we made at "quilt night" might be one of my fancy "outfits" for a date with her schoolmates. I'd let him wear his Letterman's jacket. Is this wrong? Oh, I so lied right there, but that's what fantasies are all about, right?

Don't deny it. . . all of you have thought of those inappropriate thoughts of your child's cute high school buddies. Of course I'm talking about once they hit the golden, legal age of 18. I live in Utah so I just have to wait til they are 16. However, I like a boy who can buy me booze, so I prefer to wait til they are 21, because we all know, Mama needs a bar!

I was at my girlfriend's son's wedding... she's the MOG (Mama of of the Groom) recently, and her son's friend, Little Danny asked her where she was going after the wedding. She politely replied, "There's a shuttle." That's why why we need on-site rooms.

One vote for Snowbird! Because my reply would have been, here's my room key.

Does that make me an easy Cougar? Or just a Bobcat on a moratorium waiting to be sprung from the vault?



Sunday, August 16, 2009

From Receiving Blankets to Reception Centers

It was just over 20 years ago that I was a scared 18 year old trying to decide my future. What I thought was luck had finally ran out. The 4th pregnancy test came back positive. I was over four months along with only days to decide what to do.

After a lot of tears, writing and rewriting pros and cons lists until they tipped the scale to the side where I wanted them, fights with boyfriend, parents and friends, I started buying blankets. And binkys. And cute little clothes in unisex colors.

The luck I thought I was having in getting negative test results was luck indeed. Though at the time, the thought of being a single teenage mom scared the shit out of me, it is the best thing that ever happened. I know, how cliche', but unless you have lived through it, you can't mock me. Sure things were tough. I had to live with my mom in order to support my daughter the way I wanted. I preferred trips to Disneyland over my own mortgage. And I drove a beater car for years so that I could afford Challenger School and Nordstrom red cowboy boots for my two year old. My priorities were right for us.

So where has this lead me to 20 years later . . . to planning the biggest day in her life. Again, I am scared to death. My baby is growing up. She is planning her future and it doesn't include living with me. Is this selfish? Have I had enough time with her? She doesn't know how to cook! She should wait just for cooking lessons. Can he live on buttered noodles, cereal and tacos? Should I talk them out of it? Tell them they are too young? They need stable jobs and college degrees before signing a marriage certificate!

I remind myself . . . this is my daughter. She is the one who has been the mature one in our relationship. She is the one who knows what she is doing. She has been handling matters herself since she was 3 and someone tried to steal her stick horse during pre-school western days. Horrified, I watched through the one sided mirror as she lifted the boy by his bandana and regained custody of the pinto. I remind myself that she is stronger than I have ever been and that if he tries to steal her dreams she will deal with him in the same manner that she showed that little bully. Maybe not with a bandana, but I'm sure the effect will be the same.

I find myself thinking back to days of easier decisions. In 1989 you didn't know if you should buy pink or blue jammies so things were still generic for the unknown. There was some mystery and surprise left in life. Now I wish for an easy decision! Not so much when it comes to wedding plans. I know find my days filled with thoughts of reception centers. It is the first major decision to be made. Well after choosing the groom. She wants a mountain setting because she loves the fall and the colors of autumn. It needs to have indoor and outdoor locations. A beautiful aisle for her to walk down. And let's not forget the liquor license. Yes . . . mama needs a bar!

Wish me luck,