Not at ALL What You Thought

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Merry Mother's Day!

Mine began getting up at 830, still agonizingly sleepy, and determined to get to Mama's church on time. Showered, found my (presently) favorite suit, comfortable hose, my (currently) favorite pumps, and very uncomfortable --ahem-- foundation garaments.

Woke up Goobs. "You gots fifteen minutes."

"What time is it?"

"9:05. Tighten up."

After tightening up, Goobs wanted to know if she and her sister had to dress up. I said I didn't know, but it'd be nice if they looked nice. So, of course, Goobs found her favorite outfit, a flowy, short, navy sleeveless dress with matching diaphonous duster and Juice (after tightening up) wore a very wrinkled, long, pink button-down shirt over a black, long-sleeved thermal and blue jeans that happened to have a matching pink flower applique'd on 'em.

"Iron that," I said.

We got to Mama's church in plenty of time, so, of course, my nepphies found Goobs and Juice and ran off with them somewhere. When I ran into my sister, we wondered for a hot minute where the kids were and then greeted a very strange man with a weird mustache. (After my sister went up into the choir stand, but before service had actually started, the strange man came by again, and I greeted him again. When the speaker for the day directed us to greet a nearby mother, the strange man just happened to come over, so I could greet him one more time.)

The speaker for the day talked about mothers in the bible: Hagar, Jocebed, Lois, each representing wonderful mother attributes. Unlike my pastor, he was very brief. He prayed for the congregation after his message and then offered to pray for individuals, just before he dismissed us.

I should say that Mama had planned to go to one of the several "Texas" steakhouses in Virginia. But, Saturday night, she got a phone call from the husband of my best friend, who (the husband, I mean) invited her, her husband, my sister, my sister's family, my family and me to their home. He was gonna cook. This invitation turned Mama's mind into a maelstrom. Could BFHubby feed all of us? ("He wouldn't've invited us if he couldn't, Mama," said my sister. "But we'll do what you want us to do. It's your day.") Finally, Mama decided to go to one of the (cheaper) "Chinese" restaurants in Virginia. Wok and Roll offered lobster on their buffet for Mother's Day ($10.99).

"It's the one where Old Country Buffet used to be," Mama said. "Let's have dessert at [BF's] house." I text'd BFHubby to let him know.

We met at Wok and Roll. Or, rather, my sister, her family, and my family met there. We scored a big table in the back, and a little one (for our kids) blessed the food we were about to eat, and went to get said food. Mama and Pop Pop showed up fifteen minutes later.

We ate. We talked. We laughed. At one point, First Nepphie told his father he couldn't finish his egg roll, but he needed to try because he'd read a sign on the buffet asking people not to waste food.

"There was a black man on the sign," Nepphie said. For some reason, the adults found this assertion hilarious. We laughed until tears ran down our cheeks.

My sister's husband insisted upon paying for everyone's meal. The rest of us contented ourselves with leaving a fat tip. On the way out of Wok and Roll, I pointed out the "Please eat what you take" signs posted at the buffet. They were illustrated with colorful little "everyman" images one finds in MSWord. Their faces, as far as I could tell, were dark purple.

"I thought [nepphie] meant there was a picture of an actual black person on the sign," said my sister. We never saw any lobster.

We piled into our cars and drove over to BF's house. BF's family was just getting home from church. BF's Hubby was bubbly and friendly, as always, and BF was hungry and cranky, as she has been since December (when she had their third child). They hadn't eaten since breakfast (and it was 3 pm), but BF's Hubby made up an ice cream bar with Gummy Bears, Oreo crumbles, nuts, chocolate syrup, caramel, chocolate chip crumbles, etc. (He'd made the crumbles by hand.) Then he and his wife made chicken Alfredo with linguine and fresh broccoli.

"I love this stuff!" said BF's older son, the one who eats hardly anything.

"Mommy!" Juice cried. "It's 3:18!" She had to be at work by 3:30. She jumped into BF's guest bathroom and changed into her uniform. I rushed her off to the movies. When I got back, BF's Hubby was pulling out the French Vanilla ice cream and bowls, calling everyone over and personally serving each guest.

Mama and Pop Pop showed up about twenty minutes later.

We ate. We talked. We laughed. Mama appropriated BF's newest son and put him to sleep. (He tried to fight it, too much was going on, he didn't want to miss a thing, but how could he resist experienced cooing and jiggling?) Mama made me tell the "Two men and a woman interviewed for the FBI" joke* to BF and her husband, who had never heard it before. They nearly fell out their chairs laughing. We all agreed it was an inappropriate joke to tell on Mother's Day (and yet it was the joke that the speaker for the day told at Mama's church).

In the family room, my nepphies, Goobs and BF's older children had pulled out the Wii. My sister, after much prodding and wheedling, talked Mama and Pop Pop into playing. Pop Pop caved first. He was really good at pitching, Goobs said, often reaching speeds of 95 mph, but wasn't good at bat. Mama, an exceptional bowler in real life, couldn't figure out how to Wii bowl.

I still think Mama's gonna get one of those Wii's.

My sister took her sons home about the time Mama and Pop Pop decided to go home. By that time, though, I was only an hour away from picking Juice up from work, so I told BF that we weren't leaving until then. She was too tired to fight me.

We watched the kids make Wii Miis (one named "Gine"), and then they all decided to watch Hairspray. Halfway through, Goobs and I had to pick up Juice from work. Goobs told Juice everything that had happened at BF's house. We got home and everybody except me jumped into their jammies.

Sometimes, Life IS Good.

Thank you, Jesus, my brother, for friends and family (again).

*Scroll down to about half the page. Or read the other jokes. Some are funny!


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