I have a recordable Hallmark card for my mom for Mother’s Day (SURPRISE MOM! You’re getting a recordable card!) and I’ve had it for weeks.
I don’t know what to record.
Chances are she’ll show it to her friends, so I have to make her proud.
At the same time I have to keep her on her toes.
I like to think that part of the reward of having me as a daughter is that you’re never quite sure what you’re going to get.
I also consider it a huge gift to Cody, his life would be so boring without me.
(Side note, the other night at boring law function #3 he could sense my overwhelming distaste for lawyers and how much they like to hang around each other, use big words, congratulate themselves and be all encompassing in their complete and utter boring. I don’t feel so bad about this. Lawyers and other “professionals” even have a term for people like me, “Layperson.” If lawyers are going to come up with a snarky sounding dig to my kind I’m going to roll my eyes when no one is looking at their kind. Cody felt it necessary to scold me before boring law function #4 ate my face and I took to flying around the room with a gavel screaming “Justice is BLIIIIIIND! YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUUUUTH!!!1!!!!1″)
Today while lying around recovering from the toxic chicken fingers from boring law function #3 (apparently one must build up tolerance to law function food, especially when not chasing said food with flammable beverages) I thought that maybe I could tell all my mom the stuff I did that she never knew about but lived through.
Or maybe she did.
Regardless, SORRY MOM!
Now that I’m a mom I’m beginning to realize just how many superhero perks come with the job. Catlike reflexes, eyes in the back of your head, uncanny lie detection ability and well stocked saddlebags (just to name a few.)
I distinctly remember coming home the morning after a night of warm Goldschläger shots, a night that landed me face down in the grass in someones backyard after vomiting on at least seven pairs of shoes (one of them belonging to my boyfriend at the time. Whoops.) I had lied to my mom about the entire night saying I had fallen asleep after a movie and whoops! so sorry! (If you weren’t well aware that my very existence during my teenage years was a little touch and go, YOU ARE NOW.) I stumbled into my room in the morning claiming flu, when in all reality it was the WORST HANGOVER A HUMAN HAD EVER EXPERIENCED.
My mom dragged me out into the living room and asked “Would you like to tell us about your drinking habits?”
Actually no, mom. I would not like to tell you, but given it was really hard to blink I muttered out some story “Goldscccchlagggerrrrr *urp*…warm…soooosick, didn’tnooooo sooORRRYY, neverrrrragain *burp* bad chhhooiiicceess. bednowkthx.”
I may have still been heavily intoxicated but I remember my moms face and subsequent words PERFECTLY. “I was actually referencing the bottle of whiskey I found in your bottom drawer.”
I had just admitted to something she didn’t even know I had done.
Instead she was asking about the giant bottle of whiskey my (previously mentioned puked on) boyfriend had snuck up to my house on a day we had both sluffed school.
There was no way out of this little pickle.
Not only was I grounded until I turn 28 (one more year! yaaayy!) I had to go to work in my hangover laden state.
I worked the pie counter at a local pie shop.
Goldschläger Hangover + Pie = something that makes pouring salt in an open wound look very appealing.
I haaaated her for making me go to work, but now that I’m a mom?
Although it didn’t convince me to stop drinking (yet) it did convince me to a) not drink to the point of blacking out b) find better hiding places and c) not get caught in the first place.
Nominee #1 for Recordable Hallmark Mother’s Day card?
“Hey Mom! Happy Mother’s Day! One day soon I’m going to be the parent of a teenager! HOW’S THAT FOR VINDICATION? I love you!”