Friday, April 1, 2011

Fifteen

Guess who's 15 today???

And sure, we're doing the whole present/cake/party thing for Ziggy but sadly I knew I had a motherly responsibility to explain the sheer unluckiness of this particular birthday.

"So it's the big day, huh?"

"Mmmmhm."

"Fifteen."

"Yeah."

"Almost sixteen."

"
Cool."

"Too bad it's such an unlucky number."

"Not funny."

"Who's trying to be funny? Ides of March, right? That was on the fifteenth. Really bad day for Caesar."

"That was March. My birthday's in April."

"But still. Fifteen. Dude was killed. Had to be the worst day of his life."

"Whatever. Still not funny. Or relevant."

"If you were Jewish it would be different. You'd have a bat mitzvah. That would be fun."


"That's at thirteen mom, not fifteen."

"Exactly! If you were having a bat mitzvah at fifteen that would be very unlucky. Since all your friends would've done it two years earlier. So you'd be, like, the slow kid. Short bus."

"You feeling ok?"

"Though I suppose if we were Hispanic, you'd have a quesadilla. That might have been nice."

"Ugh. It's a quincenera!"

"It is? Well I've never had one but it doesn't sound nearly as tasty as quesadilla."

"Mom, I think we're good here. You can stop talking now."

"Ok well... no, wait. What about Abigail?"

"
Who?"

"Taylor Swift's friend? You know in the song, Fifteen?"

"Where are you going with this?"

"Ziggy please. "Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind." And she was... you guessed it. Fifteen. Sad, really."

"What is wrong with you?"

"I'm just saying. If you can get this one over fairly quick it would be better for us both."

"Oh because I can make 365 days go by in what, like 240?"

"Might be worth looking into, Zig. I mean, what's 15 anyway? Not even it's own number. It takes a 1 and a 5 to make 15. And when you add one and five together you get six. You see what I'm saying?"

"Ummmm... no?"

"Six, Ziggy. You get six. Exactly the age I was when my first pet, a sweet little stripey thing we called Tiger, ripped my pajamas to shreds while I was wearing them. While I was wearing them, Ziggy! Can you imagine how traumatized I was?"

"About as traumatized as I'm going to be after this conversation?"

"I'm just saying. Fifteen, well it's kind of the black eye of birthdays. Something nobody really wants. No one ever says "Black eye? Why yes, that'd be awesome!" You see, it's like the Lindsay Lohan of birthdays, just you know, really messed up. No wait, it's like - "

"Great mom. Good talk."

"Oh, right. Good talk. Yup. And hey - happy birthday Ziggy."


:-)

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

What's Not Awesome

Here are some random thoughts on what's not awesome.


Poop.

I don't care who you are. No one thinks poop is awesome.

People who think they are awesome. And are wrong. A.k.a not awesome.

Disappearing Acts.

It doesn't matter if it's a friend, an employee or a dog, disappearing is just not awesome.

Exes.

The only exception to the above rule. Exes = not awesome. Exes who disappear? Totally awesome.

Loading my razor up with toothpaste. That really could've hurt.

My BFF watching me do the above.

Listing charity work on your resume that you didn't actually do. Not only not awesome but really kind of jerky too. Yeah, talking to you DT.

Stupid girls who don't know how awesome Moose is. Stupid girls. Totally not awesome.

Hitting on a pastor's wife. God's going to show you how awesome that was not, buddy.

Whoever spoke the F-bomb in front of my three year old. I will not awesome up the side of your head when I find out who you are.

Parents who let their kids scream, bang spoons and run around in restaurants.

Boy smell. Moms of teenage boys, I have felt your pain.

Miley Cyrus. Hannah Montana was awesome. Miley Cyrus? Not awesome. Unless she put ona few more clothes, acted less hoochie and maybe threw in a few morals.

Reality Shows. Really? Enough already.

The four thousand eight hundred trillion seventy nine million dollars and sixty two cents it takes to keep a teenage girl happy. For six hours.

The Snooki hair thing on a sixty year old. Or a six year old. Either way. Not awesome.

Granny panties. Unless you're, you know, a granny.

Dogs who barf in the middle of the night. Nasty crap that they had no right eating in the first place. On my freshly cleaned carpets. So. Not. Awesome.


So, what's not awesome in your life?

As a side note, this is dedicated to my good friend Woman in Love, who didn't make this list because she is totally awesome... sorry for the wait. Hugs and kisses!

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

No Ordinary Angel

I reach my hand into the gift bag with a level of excitement not felt since Santa and God answered my Christmas-time prayers with a Cabbage Patch doll.

Long before my fingers touch the sculpted plastic skirt, I just instinctively know it will be a most unnatural shade of yellow. Oh my niece has outdone herself this year.

Yes! This is THE one.

I fondle the eighteen inch molded figurine like an actress does her first Oscar. Running my thumb over her synthetic hair and admiring the carefully applied blue eyeshadow, I am teary eyed with gratitude.

Her arms are locked in what appears to be the "open for hugs" position and my heart skips a beat. This is no ordinary angel. My day-glow doll has a purpose.


My niece shyly produces a roll of toilet paper, carefully lacing it between my angels arms.

"Auntie, now pull the toilet paper. Pull it!" She giggles.

My wildest imagination could not have envisioned a more perfect gift. I lean closer to my husband, who is watching the toilet paper unravel with envy.

"Top this one, pally."

I look up at my niece with sincerity, clinging to my toilet paper wielding angel. "This is the Best. Gift. Ever. I have just the place for it."

"Your niece gave that to you. You wouldn't dare." TK whispers in my ear, envy seeping into every word.

"It's my gift."

"But your niece gave it to you. You shouldn't re-gift it. That's just wrong."

"Look, clearly this is a set up. She gave it to me knowing it's final home would not be with me."

"In that case I don't think it qualifies."

"Qualifies? Oh there are rules now?"

"The whole point of the after Christmas swap is to bring your worst gift. It's not the same if it's a gift given with the intent of re-gifting."

"Bring your worst gift swap. Not bring-your-worst-gift-that-the-giver-thought-was-awesome swap. And hey, it's my party." I nudge him. "What about when we bought the Nascar coffee mugs because all our real gifts rocked that Christmas? Or the year I gave you the leopard print thong and you swapped it?"

"That was different. Besides, I think you actually wanted me to wear the thong."

"Eww."

"Those gifts were different. This is just... well, it's just different. In a bad way. You need to keep that angel. It's only fair."

I stood, careful not to unravel the toilet paper as I lovingly placed my gift on the mantle.

I leaned in close, my cheek brushing the waving cascades of yellow hair as I smiled and whispered to my Christmas Angel.

"Don't you listen to him, angel baby. He's just upset about the leopard thong."

Sunday, December 19, 2010

The Ultimate Gift

I was dreading the call as much as I was anticipating it.

My angel of Christmas, in the voice of my social worker, gave me the only gift I had hoped for this year.

"The judge has terminated parental rights."

She reviewed the finer points of the decision. The parents' right to appeal. The process. The timeline. DCF's involvement. We discussed post-termination, post-adoption.

Both bio parents currently missing. Neither one successfully rehabbed off of the heroin they poisoned my babies' system with during pregnancy. One possibly in jail, the other who knows where this time. The court's leniency in future visitation. The likelihood of the appeal, and the certainty of the outcome.

We talked about the case in a factual, intelligent manner as if we were discussing politics and not the future of the little people who were waiting at home for me.

The two not-quite-toddlers we met for the first time a year ago November. Who have taken over our house with their toys and diapers and crayons.

Who have taken over our lives with their runny noses and nighttime fevers and tantrums in airports.

Who had taken over our hearts with their hugs and kisses, their cuddles and their sleepy-faced smiles first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

We covered every aspect of the thirty page ruling while I drove, barely noticing the highway as it sped past.

"I'll get these pages faxed over shortly and we'll talk again soon in the coming month. I think that's everything, any other questions?"

I thought about all the information I had just heard. The legal aspects, our responsibilities going forward, the adoption that can finally take place this coming spring.

And I asked the only question that really mattered.

"So they're ours now. Forever?"

"They're yours forever. Merry Christmas."