Showing posts with label moms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moms. Show all posts

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Chill Out


You gotta chill out, says my Mom. You really are on edge. You're horrible to be around! Yeah, well, maybe it's because you're calling Milan's award-winning daycare "an old dump" and are furtively feeding him gummi bears before breakfast. I mean, I know that's what "normal" grandmas are supposed to do, feeding candy and shit, but we were brought up on sparkling mineral water, butter lettuce and sautéed liver! Come on!

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Spite


Dr. S. is so Indian. He kept referring to my Mom as an old woman. My mom is 60 years old and not at all matronly. He is just as presumptuous as other people, despite being a PhD-holding psychiatrist and meditation expert and whatnot. I thought as you evolve toward higher consciousness, you see things more clearly, i.e. with less Avidya, but we are all and remain all human. He assumes, for instance, that A. is offended in his "manhood" if I don't "allow" him to spite my mom a little. Or rather, I said I know that his real reasons for not wanting M. to sleep in my parents room is not concern over M. but to spite my mom. And Dr. S. said it's ok to allow spite some sometimes. To keep A.'s manhood intact.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Bada-Bing and Belevdere


These days people are drinking drinks I've never heard of and never will. I am so out of touch. Last night I had two delicious Belvedere and Tonics on a "mom's night out," and I kept thinking of JT who said: Why can't we just have a night out? Why does it have to be qualified as a mom's night out? Obviously my thoughts don't run very deep right now. Just involve things like: Can I sneak Cheerios onto the plane? At the same time I've been living vicariously through Pamela de Barres and her I'm With the Band. And at the frequent mentions of Rodney Bingenheimer I got nostalgic for being 16 and on Mykonos and his fat photo albums and photographer Brad Elterman and Rodney calling me his "sweet 60s girl." Such an idiot for not looking them up when I moved to Cally in 1990. Ah, our summer of love. No one to worship at my shrine these days. Or ever again. I think.