Monday, December 25, 2000:
Feeling:  Abandoned (by Santa Claus among others).
Last DVD bought:  The Cell.  (I found the sick / offensive scenes fascinating / creative.)
Last two search engine queries to my site:  "Bear sex" and "anime doctor sex".
What I got for Christmas:  A wallet, a sweater, a door knocker, and a George Foreman grill.
  In short, a little boy's nightmare.

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M.O.M. -- Master Of Misery

My thirtieth birthday  (last week) wasn’t a big deal.

I was surprised Amy had got me something.  I am quite difficult to buy for, because if I really want something then I’ll buy it for myself.  The only things I buy-on-urge are video games and kung fu DVDs, and I’ve got more than time allows at the moment.

Amy got me a cute little Snoopy airplane filled with candy, and two cherry sodas.  The woman knows what I like.  She said the Snoopy was to remind me of her, because she has a disproportionately sized head like Snoopy.  Sometimes she even pretends that her neck is too weak to support her huge head.  I do my best to hold it up for her.

Her gift came with a note saying "From Your Girlfriend."

On Christmas day, my mom came over again to cook us a turkey dinner.

When my mom perused my latest sketchbook, I asked what she thought.  She’s never been embarrassed by any of my drawings (mostly because of denial), even the one I did in high school with two girls French-kissing each other.  (Reference photo from Penthouse magazine.)

MOM :  "What’s that?

ME :  "Uh … that’s a tongue, mom."

MOM :  "Is that a man? … That doesn’t look like a man."

ME :  "Give me my book back mom!"

Her favorite recent drawings were the hooded Medea from a couple entries ago, and, to my surprise, my scantily-clad femme warrior (which one?).  She liked the little Korean house in the background too.

At one point during dinner, my mom got all Joy Luck Club on us and started crying about her "little babies" (me and my brother) again.

She told Amy about the time I first learned to ride a tricycle and how I had been gone a long time.  Our dad’s relatives told my mom not to worry.  

But of course she did. 

She said she went out walking the neighborhood screaming my name.  It even started to rain, badly, but she kept looking, running down dead-end streets and fields in our still-developing subdivision looking for me.  

Eventually she found me a mile away under someone’s porch sniffling and trying not to get wet.  She said I looked scared but I didn’t start crying until we saw each other.  

My mom kept saying, "What if I’d listened to your dad’s family? What if I never found you?"

Then we wouldn’t have to hear this story every year, I thought to myself.

Then there was the time she left me with my Scottish grandmother and went to Niagara Falls with my dad.  She didn’t want to leave me, but grandma and dad insisted (rightly so) that I would be okay.

She said that when she came back and saw me, I looked famished (not true) and that I started crying again when I saw my mom.  Another mother-child reunion Joy Luck Club moment.

I think these mother "baby saving" stories are the equivalent of a father's "I had to walk in the snow uphill both ways" stories.  

My Scottish grandma was always so nice to my brother and me.  She was really wrinkly and had a huge mole on her nose.  I remember sitting on her lap as she read Mother Goose tales.  (Old witches cooking little kids??  Werewolves dressed as grannies??  Get me off of your lap ... grandma.)  

I vaguely remember when my mom returned that night.  

I was watching Dukes of Hazzard.  I remember missing her familiarity.  But it wasn’t until she barged back in panic-stricken that I realized that I was "almost abandoned."  (Not really, of course.)

I can't remember where my younger brother Mark was back then.

"So do you have any stories with Mark (my brother), like that?" Amy asked.

"No, Mark didn’t cry that much, haha," my mom said.

"Whatever!" I said, and marched off to my computer to play Carmageddon 3.  As I began to run over virtual pedestrians in reckless and unusual ways (for BONUS points), I could hear Amy and my mom still talking.

"Why did you leave Scott there if you didn’t want to?" Amy asked.

"Their dad insisted we take a vacation but I didn’t want to," my mom answered.

"You shouldn’t have listened to anyone but yourself.  The kids come before the rest of the family, even the husband," Amy stated.

I split my virtual death-mobile in half about then.

No man wants to hear his beloved trade in his life so quickly.  Well, at least THIS easily jealous man.

I know that when I actually see my baby(s), that they will be the most important persons in both of our lives, but in my own little boy brain it still feels like I’m being abandoned.  That’s just part of becoming an adult man, I guess.

"No one will ever love you more than your momma," my mom would remind me … especially when I started dating Amy, haha.

But I guess that will be true for me and my own children, as it should be.  Although I would contest that many daddies may love their children as much as mommies too.

And besides, I can take care of myself now, thank you very much.

"I still have to remind him to wear his mittens everyday," Amy went on with my mother.

"5400 points for a Spinning Pedestrian Decapitation Bonus!  Woooohhooo!!"

Fortunately, I’ve still got some time before I *really* have to grow up.

 

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IS  YOU  IS

MOM (on answering machine) :  " ... and don't forget there's an eclipse today ... THEY say you shouldn't look at the sun too long ... and eat your vegetables and ...."

My mom keeps forgetting ... 

 I *am* THEY.

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