If you don't want to see a 33 year old woman cry on her birthday:

a) Don't give her maternity clothes disguised as a present. C'mon! No one likes maternity clothes and absolutely no one wants to get them as a birthday present. from your mother. who is supposed to know and love you! On top of that I personally, HATE/LOATHE and DESPISE all cropped pants, which is what I was given. Gross.

b) Don't serve her pizza at her own home when she has the opportunity to get out of the house for something that doesn't involve work and hanging out with 150 kids that belong to someone else. Especially when:
i) she doesn't LOVE Pizza Hut pizza (although I'll admit, it was kinda good last night so I might reverse my feelings on Pizza Hut--I <3 their salad bar, that's for sure!)
ii) you're going to leave your 30,000 water glasses unattended which means that I will be cleaning up the water my child has spilled out of your glasses--because when I bend, I can't breathe and I pee myself. Awesome right?

Do I sound like a cry baby? Absolutely. I am a horrible and spoiled person (and I'm totally cool with that). However, in my defense, someone made me that way (my mother, so she shouldn't be surprised when I am upset by ugly clothes that I don't want to wear) AND I'm super hormonal/miserable and really would've enjoyed a dinner away from my goddamn house that was made out of something other than pizza dough.

Anyways, there were two saving graces...my cool bag from John and the fact that I fell asleep at 9:20 so I didn't have to think about anything else that could possibly annoy me or make me cry.

I'm not sure why they even bother giving us a national holiday because without fail John and I will drink away the day--you know, when we're not a)remodeling the house b)taking tests that affect our entire lives and c) whatever else important things we have going on. Oh sure, we'll play drunken wii and I will cry over Kurt Cobain being dead as we sing along to the songs (true story) but ultimately, we will fill our gullets with a bottle of Black Seal (I'm sorry, he made pina coladas, and I like pina coladas...a lot) in less than an hour and I will pass out on the couch while John attempts to service me. I am a classy wife.

Also, have you seen the KIA commercial about Millard Fillmore being an unknown president? Well, my mom has a weird sense of humor and she told John and I over lunch the other day that she was going to write a letter because it wasn't "right" to make fun a president and/or creating a soap on a rope in his image. John laughed later that he would kill to see a "draft of that letter" because I think he really believed that my mom is bat shit crazy (she is not, she's just goofy). So what does every thirty year woman do? She prank calls her mother as the "Millard Filmore Appreciation Society" and attempted to urge her to write letters and call KIA...the whole time I kept losing it and lapsing into fits of laughter...so I gave up the ruse. I was amazed when she said, "Mel? Is that really you? I thought it was some CRAZY person!". Then she asked us if we were high since we were cackling like morons which spurred us to take pictures of John with a pot on his head and send them to her cell phone. This "hilarious" idea also backfired because we had to teach my dear mother how to retrieve both texts (she just found one that John sent her in October inviting her to the movies with us) and pictures. PS. we were sober for all of these antics.

That's what she said yesterday when our shopping spree took a turn for the worst.

My mom and I went on our second (SECOND!) leg of shopping yesterday and that's what she said to me after I reverted to my 16 year old self and started to bitch when she tried to return a pair of shoes and the store clerk took forty five minutes and six registers to do the deed. I uttered the words, "If I knew this was going to happen," eying the clerk with disdain, "I would've stayed home and laid out." As soon as I uttered the words, I wished them back into my head but they had already spewed out of my mouth. My mom's eyes welled with tears and she said quietly, "When I'm done with this, you can take me home. And . You. Can. Go. Layout." What she really mean was, "when I'm done with this, you can take me home, and then you can go to Hell!"

We left the store and she whispered in a soft hurt voice, "I can't believe I wasted my day off trying to spend time with my daughter. It happens every time I try, you revert into yourself and become this sullen child. I love you, but I maybe we don't have to like each other." And with that, I started to cry right in the mall. "C'mon Mom, I'm sorry! I don't really want to lay out, I want to go to the book store!" (which was the next place on our itinerary).
"No! Just take me home!"

We got in the car, both of our eyes spilling quiet, painful tears that burned both of our faces. I kept pleading with her, "I'm sorry, I was being bitchy! I didn't really mean to aim it at you! Forgive me and let's get back to our day together?!?" But the damage was done. And then she uttered a phrase that had been seven years in the making,
"I know that you wish I had died instead of your dad...". (silence).
"Mom, you know I don't really think that..." (silence)


***minor bickering bounces back and forth that's not worth mentioning because it was petty***

"Stop here, I want to get you and John some vegetables." So I pulled off to the vegetable market and was confused that she even wanted to fill my fridge with veggies when this emotional firefight was going on. But deftly she moved through the small aisles and picked something out, pointed to certain things and even said, "Oh, you love sugar snap peas, let me get some of those for you!" I followed her confused, and watched her as she picked up all my favorite veggies and tossing them in the box. It was strangely comforting. I felt like it was meant to be comforting after all the harsh words...all the true (mostly--minus that one statement) words.

I dropped her off and I tried to focus on reading a book, I couldn't. I just cried, sending John a terse text message stating, "I just got into a bad fight with my mom. It was my fault :(" He called me immediately from work but I couldn't talk, I just cried, whimpered out a few sentences and then when he asked if I was going to be alright I just mumbled a tear filled, "I don't think so" and we ended the conversation because I couldn't talk and he couldn't make it right. I knew that he would hold me later and let me cry into his shoulder.

She called me a little later and we finally talked. For years we've been dancing around the subjects of my father's sudden death, me moving out, her getting a boyfriend, and all the rough spots in between. Both of felt abandoned by the other, loving each other from afar but rarely speaking our true minds when we'd get together. Yesterday brought all of that to a head, and I think I'm grateful for it. I never realized until she said it, "Your dad died and then you left me." (I lived with her for almost three years and then bought a house when I was 25 or 26) And then I was alone." I hadn't pictured her alone. I thought I had moved out because she was ready for me to do so. It appears that she wasn't...and it wouldn't have hurt me to stay with her a little longer. There was no pressing reason for me to move out, other than I felt inept with the fact that I was still living with my mother and all my friends were out building their lives. I wasn't really ready to move out either...events that followed my leaving her, proved that. It was almost as if I was begging to be taken back in. But I would've refused to go, and it appeared that she had moved on...by dating.
And we continued talking and making plans about starting over and dealing with my issue of keeping her at an arm's length--her death would kill me as much or more than my father's and about rebuilding our family. We focused less on shopping sprees and talked more about her and her boyfriend (whom I also kept at way more than an arm's length) coming over to dinner to share in my newfound culinary talents and simply making a present rather than living in what used to be and then getting angry that neither of us fit our past expectations.

We made up for the present and now I think we are going to start healing our past.

Tell me, do you know any other 30 year old woman who's going "Back to School" shopping (what? I'm going back to school...I'll just be working there) with her mother??

Be jealous.

Blame this post on watching One True Thing, the book slayed me and watching the movie (which isn't all that great) killed me a little bit more.

My mother has always played second fiddle to my father. She's my biological blood and yet she willingly took the back seat to my non-biological dad. Why? The only answer I can come up with tonight is the fact that she is an unfailingly good mother. I look at her (now, introspectively of course, but in reality, I've never really looked at her aside from physically...it's terrible), and I realize how truly blessed I am to have had the life that I've had--and it's all because of her.

She became pregnant at 18. She was unmarried and had been having a romance with an older man, I think it was all very exciting coming from the abandoned strip mine town that she did. She was (is) very intelligent and I was definitely going to "interfere" with her plans, her dreams...college. Because my family based our entire relationship on truth, when I was old enough she told me all about the feelings, the overwhelmingness of it all. She even told me that she went to an abortion clinic, that she sat in the waiting room, touching my non-existant self and when they called her name she stood up and walked out.

I don't see this as noble, I see this as an impulsive decision. I'm not against abortion (I know this will anger many people, but I could never decide for others. I don't believe that I would ever have one, but to choose for everyone?? That's not my job) I understand that I wouldn't be here had she not stood up and left...and believe me, I'm glad that she did. She made that choice at 18 as many women do, but when she did that, she became a mom. A real mom.

My mom almost never had a babysitter for me (two times that I can remember in my entire childhood). I blew out the candles on her 21st birthday, I have the picture to prove it. When I went to bed, her friends and my dad and her celebrated with bottles of champagne quietly after I was asleep. Date nights? I went on every single date my parents ever had. Was this healthy? Probably not, but it worked for all of us. I can't even imagine. My mom had no identity other than Mom and she never complained, although she probably should have.

Now my mom is 48 and my father (non biological), the true love of her life is dead and she started over. I'm proud of her. She met a man, has been with him for about three years and has built a life without myself and my dad. At first, I was jealous and vindictive child (at the age of 26). It's only now that I realize that this is the first time that she has a chance to live the life that she's dreamed (let me quote Thoreau if I may). This is the only time in her life that there has never been external expectations upon her...can you even imagine?? And she never complained, not once. Of course, there are people who would say that she couldn't complain because she made the decisions that she made, but this is reality, people complain daily. She never once did.

My mother is going to college at the age of 50, that's her goal and I'm proud of her. Because of my dad's tour in Vietnam we all received (basically) a free college education. As of today, I was the only one (out of the three of us) who took advantage of this. In fact, on graduation day my dad said to me, "It was almost worth losing a hand and a leg for this." I cried. I want to cry for my mom when she throws her cap. I hope that she does. She's deferred all her dreams and now, it seems, she is trying to live the life she was meant to live.

My mom is the greatest woman alive. When she's nice, she smells of Christmas cookies, eggnog and all things good and mommy-like. When she's mad at me, she breathes fire and sighs a lot. When we get a-chatting, it takes us forever to get off the phone...keep in mind we live five minutes away from one another and we talk on the phone every day. Today's phone call came in at 49 minutes and 48 seconds and it would've gone on forever but I told her that I needed to go because the house was on fire. She didn't believe me, but she did let me off of the phone.

Mom: So, did you two enjoy your first Christmas together?

Me: Absolutely! It was the best Christmas eva! John rocks (etc...insert all my schmoopy comments here,[can't give Johnny too big of a head, ya know?]).

Mom: (giggles) Really? Lots of Christmas sex? (seems like a random thing to ask, but then again my mom and I discussed my first sexual encounter with John with lots of vim and vigor so it seems normal to me)

Me: Um, no...not much more than usual [note to reader(s): let me not imply that we don't have enough sex, we do--hell, we broke two chandeliers last month from when we were swinging on them! Um, just not when I've hit the sauce and I'm found snoring on the floor...or at least not that I'm aware of]...we had a lot of running around to do, people were always here, I was always drunk and passed out...you know. I'm sure John wanted lots of Christmas sex but he forgot to put the mistletoe on his belt as he was instructed and so I always missed the target area when he put my drunk ass to bed on a nightly basis.

Mom: Oh... (silence)

Me: (*begin internal monologue*oh shit, she's going to be mad because I spent my Christmas drunk...but I did paint a little!! And I wrapped presents...shoot, I should've just said, "Yes") What?

Mom: (sounding like the cat who ate the canary) I just thought maybe I'd get a start on my new holiday wish list.

Me: Huh? the holidays are basically over and you HATE the holidays...retail, Mom, remember?? (sigh) What do you want for next year? (thinking I was going to have to find some elusive 1st edition of Don Quixote and would have to sell my body to afford it and convince John to let me sell my body for said book)

Mom: babies...I want lots of babies!

Me: (knowing full well what she meant) Well...you and your bf could...

Mom: No, absolutely not. I am done birthing babies, I'm now grandmother material...call me Grammy from now on!

Me: Uh, no...I think I'll stick with mom. Yeah, mom seems to work best for me.

Mom: (seeming not to hear me, or choosing perhaps she says in a fervor) C'mon! take one for the team! Hasn't John's mom been asking for grandbabies yet?

Me: No...she's not crazy apparently. We've been married for FIVE MONTHS, MOM!

Mom: Yeah, I know...I've been holding this inside for sooo long!

Me: Great willpower Mom, I'm going to go drink a glass of whiskey and go back to bed, ok? (not true but I felt like irritating her)

Mom: Don't you dare!! You stay out of that bed until your husband comes home!!

Me: I'm going...

Mom: I'll pay for it, if it's lack of money or something I'll pay for the baby!

Me: Mom, you're clearly insane...are you suggesting a strange "baby for cash" ring?

Mom: Don't be ridiculous. Fine, I'll try reverse psychology..."I don't want any babies out of you any time soon."

Me: First of all, gross...you just said, "Babies out of you" that's just icky. Secondly, I don't think you're supposed to tell me that you're going to use reverse psychology on me.

Mom: Oh grow up!

Me: I think the house is on fire, I gotta go!

Mom: Seriously, I take it back...you can't have babies yet.

Me: Love you too Ma, bye!!!

*Click*

My mom's biological clock is ticking like a mofo, ha ha. I'm glad John and I have discussed this and decided to wait and enjoy all our time alone...I have a feeling that not only would a baby add more company but so would my mom! I'm sure she would "steal" her and rename her constantly.

John and I exchanged all of Christmas presents over the past two days. In fact, not six minutes after I wrapped the presents I handed them to John and urged him to open them with gleefully clapped hands and an impish grin.

And he gave me all of mine.

And I made out like a (geek) bandit. I got ALL the books that I asked for Christmas from Santa. I got three awesome CDs, a gorgeous sepia photograph and...
my
favorite
gift
EVA!!!
Seasons one and two of VERONICA MARS!!!! How excited am I? As excited as anyone could ever possibly be. John could attempt to hand me $3,000,000 and I would brush him aside and scold him for standing in front of my home girl Kristen Bell.

My mom yelled at us over dinner last night (with a smile) for opening our gifts early and she and I took a little trip out so that John has more gifts to open on Christmas...shh...don't tell...she bought him lotsa stuff (I think she's gunning for Mother in law of the year or something!?!).

And now for something awesome?? I received something like eight books and I have ten days off from work, it's a blissful, blissful life I lead!