Monday, November 14, 2011

Monday, November 14, 2011


Mom and I just got back from a visit to New Jersey.  My baby sister and her husband were guests of honor at a baby shower given by his folks.  *sigh*  The shower mom and I gave her was attended by 15 and we served fun cupcakes.  Her husband’s folks’ shower was attended by 60 and between the appetizer and dinner courses they served Pumpkin Martinis with caramel and graham cracker dipped rims.  My sister has married into a wonderful entertaining family and I love it

I finally got to see how excited my mom is to be a grandma.  She’s waited so long that when we found out about the baby, she’d already figured she was too old to be the grandma she’d envisioned.  The excitement started when she asked me what I was wearing to the shower.  This was, however, one month before we were to leave for the trip.

Now, before I go any further, you need to know that my mom is not old.  She’s mid 70s, wears spiked hair, has jazzy fingernails, accessorizes quite well and never wears an outfit more than once.  My mom does not look her age. So you will then understand my incomprehension when offered a “ride” to our gate, she happily accepted.  Wha?  My mom’s not old.  Oh yeah, bad back.  Long walks, no way.  I tried to be invisible.

At the anal probing station mom milked attention for all it was worth.  She was helped, patted, attended.  She asked if her hearing aids would set off an alarm.  What if her hip was artificial?   Can they really see her naked?  As she stopped all flow, I jumped around her to get our stuff and was yelled at for jumping ahead.  My mom pulled the old lady card. I so tried to be invisible.

Mom and I decided that we hate that airlines now charge for baggage.  As folks squirreled away their carry ons in the over head bins, the line to get to our seats moved slowly.  And we always seemed to be three people behind the one that lost the round of musical chairs and had to stow their bag below.  We are positive “wheels up” times are way off these days.  We don’t like it.  Old or not.

On our return trip, mom had it all figured out.  A cart or wheel chair all the way.  We borrowed tip dollars from my brother-in-law (I wonder why he had so many dollar bills in his wallet – another time) and snagged her first ride on the curb!  She was wheeled to the head of every line.  I apologized for myself the entire way.  Me?  Cutting in line??  We rolled and wheeled swiftly and got the gate in a jiffy.  Mom is beaming with her new discovery.  I still want to be invisible.  My mom is not old.

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