nothing says "I love you, mom" like a bottle of patron

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I thought I had a clue about being a mom. I thought that after these 12 or so years of having a child in me or out of me, I had a pretty good sense of who I am as a mother, and that this sense of self would prevail through the trials that I expected.

We don't plan for the unexpected. If we did, we'd call it something else.

I didn't expect that I'd find such joy in acting like, to quote my son: "A dork and three quarters."


I also did not expect that just by being a mom, I qualified for free chair massages and raffle prizes.



Who can know what to expect from this ride?

But just in case you were wondering, I AM the

I'm at a bit of a loss with the writing and the witty reparte and all. I'm in such a weird, foreign place. I don't want to take the time to learn the language of this land, I want my visit to be short and forgetable.

You'll just have to forgive the rambling incoherence of my posts. K? K.

Mother's Day. blah blah blah, you know what I want. What I need.

But what it is is something completely differerent, and somehow we adjust our expectations and it becomes a. very. good. day.

Once again, a good day.

.

The patron helps.