I invited the girls, Carly, Izzy and Ira to go to Salisbury house for supper. Ira seemed a little too excited about it but, I figured, oh well. We had great fun before we even left. There was much giggling and some screaming and more giggling and texting and loud talking and giggling and burping and farting and I think Izzy even threw up a little. I wasn’t doing any of these things. I was checking out Facebook mostly. I asked each of them what they would order. I heard several different menu items being called out and then Ira asked, with a glint in her eye, if there would be perogies. Ira is a very sweet and seemingly shy girl who in real life (a 13-year-old life that is) is really nuts. According to Carly anyway. She was also born in Russia, near the Ukraine and has lived here with her family for many years. So, she likes perogies. Nothing wrong with that. Apparently she wasn’t invited to a party recently because there was going to be perogies there and they were afraid she would eat all 50. And she has never been to Salisbury House. Ever. Ever ever. I thought, wow, we’re gonna have fun with her. This is also the girl who doesn’t know what a holupchi is. I dunno.
Yeah it was fun when Izzy picked up the mustard bottle and promptly squirted mustard all over the table and herself when we first arrived. It was really fun when the waitress asked if Ira wanted her grilled cheese sandwich on white, brown or rye, and Ira said fried. Yes she did. Fried. The waitress was a little taken aback but then explained to her that the bread will be fried but what kind did she want. Poor Ira was много (that’s Russian – Google Translate, ain’t I clever)embarrassed. Of course the other two girls started a texting marathon with each other and Ira, never to let her forget it. Gotta hand it to her, took it like a pro. She explained it’s probably why her family never took her to restaurants. Okay.
Lots of giggles, no farts very minimal burps and no vomiting that I could see.
Then there was the weird guy at the counter staring at the girls. Until I turned around. He didn’t stare anymore. He probably saw the word “PEDOPHILE” forming in my throat, ready to scream and then jump up and point at him. I didn’t do it. He did look away and stopped staring so I let him off the hook.
Giggle, giggle, burp, slurp and talking really loud.
The waiter-guy came with food. That’s always good. Now this guy has seen Carly grow up since she was 3 and she has always ordered Grilled Cheese and Fries. Yes, with capital letters. So he was mighty surprised to hand that order over to Ira (she didn’t want perogies after all) and to Carly, the breakfast plate. He looked sad at how she has grown up. Me too.
I could not seem to do anything right by Carly. Anything I said was absolutely wrong and I had no backup from her friends. So it seems I have plenty of delusions of the past and present and have yelled at everyone and am so positively embarrassing. I’m surprised I was even allowed to sit with them. I was buying though so I had my place but didn’t seem to know my place if ya know what I mean. I know and I remember how I treated my own wonderful mother at the same age and I remember how quickly I came to appreciate her and that grew every day, even now after she’s gone. I said to Carly last night, “How will you feel when I die?” And she asked me how I felt about my mom after she died. I could only tell her that, when I was a teen, I treated her pretty badly, at least not how she should and deserved to be treated, so for that I have many regrets. I will never have that time back. She cut me a bit more slack after that, until tonight.
I realize that those days are gone, of MOM being in all caps; I used to know everything, teach all the right things, was so cool and shielded her from evil. Now I am
mom; stupid, do everything wrong, embarrassing and neglectful. I am not any of these things. Both The MOM and the mom. Just read over my blog posts from way back. I was good, funny and very capable of many things and made mistakes along the way. Both the child and the parent have to grow up and its good to grow up together.
That’s another blog entry. Hopefully a funny one. This one, not so much. I’m getting better and just need to cut myself some slack too.
Maybe I should have some perogies…