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Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Home Sweet Home (for the mentally deranged)

I came. I saw, and I wang chunged like no one's business. Saturday night after the track meet, Lane 1 and I stopped for Chinese food. Holy mother of all that is yummy! Let me back up to the phone call I made to my mom in the parking lot.

"Hey Yoda, I'm over at New Star. Do you want anything?"

"No, Aunt Lo. I'm good. But Grandma is sitting here with a list and has been waiting for your call."

Laughing I said, "Okay, put her on and I'll see you soon."

"Do you have a pen and paper?"

"Hi Mom. Yes I do."

"Oh, hi. Okay, I want beef chop suey, butterflied shrimp, two orders and egg rolls. Yoda likes those too so you better get me two of those too. Oh and egg foo young. Did I say beef fried rice? Because I hate white rice. Soy sauce, don't forget the soy sauce and ask for extra because they never give you enough. That and sweet and sour sauce. Extra, okay Lois?"

"Got it. Hey Mom, how are you going to be able to eat all of this?"

"What? That's nothing..."

She went on to talk to me for 20 minutes about how when Dad was alive they would order that plus, which spun her mind off onto memory lane and then caused her to talk about how much I hated Chinese food when I was little. I finally cut her off saying they would be closing soon, to which she said, "Oh, okay. Hurry, Lo."

Gotta love that crazy broad.

Mom is about as big as a beanpole. I knew there was no way on earth she could eat all of that food. I could have gotten away with not ordering anything for Lane 1 and myself because she did have a ton left over.

We completely engorged ourselves and it was as wonderful as I remember. It's been years since I've had good Chinese food, and I was in wang chung heaven.

There was an athlete appreciation dance at the university at 8 p.m. Lane 1 is not one to miss out on an opportunity to dance, especially with "hot chicks from the other schools" because he is pretty sure he is a stud muffin.

Mom didn't know about the dance and when I told her that we would be back around 11:30, she suggested I wasn't dressed well enough for the dance. People, I will be 34 on June 19th and my mother, that horrible woman, still thinks she can dress me.

I wasn't actually going to the dance. Lane 1 would have been mortified had I suggested such a thing. I was simply hanging out with all of the other parents for two hours of coffee, trivia and cards, which was setup down stairs from the actual dance.

"Lois Lane, you have been in those clothes all day long, in the sun while sitting on the ground. And for the love of God, look at your hair," my mother lectured.

"I washed my face, brushed my teeth and hair, and I put some B.O. control on. I'm good Mom."

"No you aren't. Come with me."

My mother dragged me by my arm into her room. As most of you know, Mom loves to shop. She has a closet full of clothes that still have tags hanging off of them.

After she wrestled me to the ground, making me try on a very ugly shirt, I begged for mercy. "Don't you have just a plain old t-shirt?"

"You don't wear plain old t-shirts for this kind of stuff, Lois. I raised you better than that."

I was in big trouble because for her next trick, she pulled out the blouses. Anyone who knows me well, knows I am not a blouse person. I fought, she fought harder, and put this stupid looking orange and peach striped number on me. Picture if you will, two crazy bitches wrestling and yelling on the floor of her bedroom. One of us in a bra with a shirt wrapped a little too tightly around her neck.

She eventually threw me on her bed, literally forcing my arms through the sleeves as if I were a noncompliant two-year-old. Never underestimate the power of a crazy old broad! Thankfully she agreed that stripes did not look right on me. We eventually made a compromise with a white shirt that wasn't a blouse. By then, my hair was really a mess, which she was quick to make note of.

Then out of nowhere, it dawned on her that I said we would be back at 11:30. "Hey, you're coming back here?"

"Yeah. I thought we should have another sleepover since you seemed to like the last one so much."

"Me? No, it was you who liked it!"

"No way!"

"Well it wasn't me!"

"Then why did you fix the couch for me so nicely? And serve me every single cup of coffee? And smile at me first thing in the morning? You love these drive-by visits. Admit it."

She handed me her house keys and told me to have a good time. She kissed Lane 1 and told him to have fun too.

"You haven't been a great-grandma yet, have you?"

Wide-eyed we both looked at that son of mine, but before we could speak, he laughed and said, "You guys make it so easy."

I guess trickery is genetic too.