Happy Mother’s Day!

Mother’s Day is coming up and I am lucky enough to have two mothers.

Sherri, who gave birth to me, and Alice, who raised me.

For years while I was growing up, I would think of my birthmom on Mother’s Day and wonder if she was thinking of me as well.

And she was.

There are other important women in my life who I celebrate on Mother’s Day.

My Grandma is 94 years old.

I remember her cooking special meals for me when I visited her in Pennsylvania – pierogis, meatloaf, anise cookies, and piggies (stuffed cabbage).

Her recipes will always be my comfort food.

I also think of my sister, Lisa, on Mother’s Day.

Although she only has fur babies, she is the closest thing my boys have to a second mother and her role in our family is very important.

Also, there’s my Aunt Stacey, my cousin Jennifer, and my niece Bella, who I love and admire greatly. They are real warrior princesses and I’ll love them forever for accepting me into the family when times were rough.

Finally, I think of Barbara, my dear friend.

Her mother has passed away and so my heart goes out to her on Mother’s Day when I know she acutely feels the loss of her mom.

Of course, it’s impossible to think about Mother’s Day without thinking about the two young men who made me a mother in the first place – my sons Duncan and Gavin.

What incredible young men they are growing up to be and I find myself in awe of their spirit and zest for life.

They are, by far, the best things to ever happen to me and I thank the universe on a daily basis for allowing me to be their mother.

So on this Mother’s Day, I’m sending out my love to all the mother’s out there and all their beautiful children.

That includes YOU!

Dysfunction

My boys complain year round about how weird our family is.

  • A blind grandfather who is cranky pretty much 24-7.
  • A grandmother hooked on caregiving and babies.
  • A single mom struggling to figure out life and balance her social life with her family life.

From my sons’ vantage points, we look like cartoon people, with magnified faults and very little to admire.

I try to explain to my boys that EVERY FAMILY is DYSFUNCTIONAL in it’s own way.

They live our family day in and day out so they get to know all our flaws.

Of course their friends’ families seem stable and functional. Those are families they only VISIT from time to time so they never see the weird inner working of those families.

Eventually, as you grow up and out of teenage angst, I think you come to VALUE your weird family members in all their DYSFUCTIONAL glory because you start to see the good qualities they possess as well.

For instance, my dad may be a cranky blind man but he is the most generous man when it comes to his friends and family. He’s always up to buy you dinner or share a glass of wine with you. Nothing makes him happier than hearing his grandson’s’ laughter.

And my mom, though she may have an unusual obsession with taking care of little ones also is the FIRST ONE who will get in line to help you with a GRUELING TASK – like cleaning up after a party or straightening up your house.

And me? We’ll I might do odd things like go to Burning Man and wear costumes, but I will always go the extra mile for my friends and family, when they need a little help.

The trick is, and I think my sons miss this ENTIRELY, that you have to focus on all the positive things about your family when there are negative things you can focus on as well.

No one is perfect.

But if I had to be born and do it all over again, I’d choose the exact same people to go through life with as I had this go round.

Reunited!

When I was 22 years old, I met my birthmother.

I called her on the phone and for the first time she answered.

She had the most beautiful voice I’d ever heard and I knew someone with a voice that kind would NEVER be mean to me.

So I told her who I was and asked if now was a good time to talk.

The rest is history.

In 17 months, I will have known my birthfamily LONGER than I haven’t known them.

I find this a strangely reassuring milestone.

It’s as if I went away for a little while, or took a long vacation, only to return.

I have three families now – mine, my birthmother’s and my birthfather’s.

Try juggling holiday commitments when you’ve got three families.

[ASIDE: If I was married, it would be EVEN HARDER].

Two weeks ago, I made the trek to Santa Rosa to visit my birthfamily and I had a really great time.

My birthmom and I got to hang out and chat before the rest of the family showed up.

I talked to my sister, who was so nice I can’t help but think there’s potential for a real relationship to develop.

We shared a meal before I drove for three grueling hours (it normally only takes two) during a deluge where even my wipers on hyper speed couldn’t keep up with the rain.

And just cuz I love them BUCKETS, I’m posting a pic we took that day. . . in all our clever goofiness.

We’re in DISGUISE!

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When you blog

write2-copyIt’s funny.

At least *I* think it’s funny.

You see, I’m a blogger so everything I experience is an opportunity to write something about it:

  • Kissing ex boyfriends in RVs at SoulFire.
  • Taking a dip in the hot tubs with men of questionable repute.
  • Peeing my pants in a onesie costume because I couldn’t get it off in time.
  • Puking down the side of Krunch’s car post-party.

It’s all fodder for the blog. Even the stuff that makes me look like a nut case.

Sometimes I wonder how my friends and family REALLY feel about this blog.

Oh, of course to my face they like it and encourage me to write.

But really, deep down, how do they feel about being WRITTEN ABOUT and READING THE INTIMATE DETAILS OF MY LIFE.

There’s a saying among us writers:

If a writer falls in love with you, you never die.

write1There’s another saying though and it goes something like this:

Don’t piss off a writer. We’ll DESCRIBE you.

IMG_9378Truthfully, I don’t get mad very often so there’s infrequent roasting of people on my blog.

[Sorry, mom. Don’t read this part.]

The last good roast was The Israeli who liked facials but got it in my eye and all over my hair thereby pissing me off.

I had SPECIFICALLY TOLD HIM NOT TO GET IT IN MY HAIR!

Turns out, there are some sexual activities I don’t like.

And some Israelis.

But ENOUGH about him.

I just want to publically thank all my friends and family who put up with me and this tacky blog – whether I’ve given you a nickname or not.

Every time I write about my friends and family, I do it with love and respect and of course a HUGE dose of courage that they’ll be okay with what I write.

Thanks to them for putting up with me.

It takes a huge amount of humor.

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It’s not a birthday party unless someone brings a bag of dicks. . .

img_0649My Pyrate themed birthday party took place on Saturday.

And let me tell you, I was SHOCKED at how many people showed up.

I expected maybe 6. Ten, if I was lucky.

But in the end a whopping 24 showed up.

We went from one table of 8 to 6 tables filled with people.

And everyone was in pyrate garb!

 

img_0644Marina and Todd img_0643Me and Cynthia

 

It was TRULY EXTRAORDINARY!

I got my dance on at The Spot and Cardiff Lounge, restoring my dance sensibility ever since the Blue Dance Nazi took it from me at Decompression SF (full story is HERE).

I’m not a fabulous dancer, but I enjoy dancing. However, you should’ve seen my birthmom dancing, SHE WAS HAVING A GREAT TIME!

I heard over and over again all night how wonderful my mom is, how incredible my mom is, how funny my mom is.

Everybody LOVED her.

I think it’s safe to say she stole the show.

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Mom and Scott, dancing.

My sister was there, looking beautiful and composed as always, prompting several comments about how we look nothing alike (my sister is half Filipino while I am all cracker).

Barbara was there, in an AMAZING corset, and all night long people mistook her for me. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again – Barbara looks like my little sister.

My brother and sister-in-law showed up to fete me and it was nice to hang out with them for a bit without the littles distracting us.

And Scott, my birthday twin, came all the way from Napa to celebrate “our” birthday. It’s always great to see old friends and I’ve known Scott since I was in preschool.

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Scott and I

So many more friends came and made it festive – Marina and Todd, MP (who gave me an awesome birthday card and present), Cynthia (who dances like a goddess), Kari and Brian (who just got engaged in Italy), Kevin (who let me grab his ass a little), Dante (who let me grab more than just his ass), Steve, Mark and Ariana (who make such a handsome couple), Brad (who had the BEST pirate accessory, a gold earring), Hoot (who was tons of fun to dance with), Bad Boy, Miss S, Kimberly (who gave me a bottle of Zaya rum), and Twisty.

In the end, a good time was had by all, even if we all became a little deaf dancing at the Cardiff Lounge in front of the speakers.

But the best, most funniest moment of the night was when Cynthia gave me a bag of little rubber dicks as a gift.

That’s right.

I got a bag of dicks for my birthday!

img_0640Blowing out the ENORMOUS candle! img_0642Kevin and me
img_0650Me and Dante (Steve and Hoot in the background) Me and Barbara
img_0634Brad and me img_0631Conga line!
img_0627Cynthia, Steve, and Twisty img_0626Brad and my sister Leilani
img_0624Birthday “twins” Scott and Michelle img_0620The newly engaged!

 

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Blessings

bdayEvery year, when my birthday rolls around, my friends and family make it extra special for me.

My oldest son gave me a big hug in the morning and wished me a happy birthday.

My friend Barbara sent me a multicolored bouquet of two dozen roses for my table at home.

My friend Darren took me to lunch in Palo Alto, ordered a pile of small plates for us to enjoy. Then he took me to Watercourse Way for some hot tubbing and relaxing.

Did I mention HE brought me a bouquet of flowers too?

All in all, I had a wonderful day and it was capped off with the Cubs winning the World Series in extra innings.

Woot!

So many people wrote on my Facebook wall, wishing me a very happy birthday.

I got a little choked up seeing all those well wishes on my wall.

Old high school friends like Debbie, Monica, and Jeanne posted to my wall along with new friends like Jayme, Sidney and Kathleen.

It was so lovely.

I just want to gather everyone in a great big hug with my arms around all of you and give you a nice, long squeeze.

I heard from my birthmom (but not my birthfather, which is par for the course). She sent me a lovely message of love and support. I have hopes that someday he will as well.

A BIG shout out goes to my Castro Valley family who showered me with love and affection. I heart them all!

And finally, my love to everyone who ready my blog “One Lucky Baby” and enjoyed it, especially Ava, Her, and amfeelingright – who paused a minute to post a comment on my blog.

I am truly blessed.

What more could a girl ask for?

Awesomeness personified

I’m just going to come out and say it:

My sons aren’t necessarily the most courteous men.

I know.

I raised them.

If they’re not polite and thoughtful, I have no one to blame more than myself (except perhaps their father who has spent our ENTIRE divorce being disrespectful to me).

In any case, they tend toward laziness and boredom.

So imagine my surprise when I cooked a nice dinner for them last night and as he was leaving the table, my oldest son said to me, “Thanks. “

Uh, WHAT?!

He said thank you.

Unsolicited.

I had tears in my eyes.

Oh fuck, maybe I HAVE done something right.

My younger son chimed in, “Yeah, thanks mother.”

[He always calls me mother, I have no idea why.]

dinner1In any case, if you want to know the formula to get your bored, lazy sons to take a moment to appreciate what you do for them, all you have to do is cook:

  • Seared tiger prawns with a beurre blanc sauce (made from scratch)
  • 4 pounds of King Crab legs served with clarified butter
  • Homemade creamy mashed potatoes with veggie gravy for your vegetarian son and beef gravy for your meat eater son
  • A salmon filet grilled with dry garlic and herb spices
  • A caprese salad made with fresh mozzarella cheese and basil
  • A selection of artisanal cheeses (again, for the veg head in the house)
  • And a white chocolate raspberry bundt cake with cream cheese frosting.

I have to admit, I’m SO VERY PROUD OF MYSELF for impressing my sons.

But I’m baffled that it took this long.

Don’t they realize that their mother is AWESOMENESS PERSONIFIED?!

Nothing but an exploding bag of gas to keep me aloft

balloonNow that I’ve officially booked my hot air balloon flight, reality is setting in.

Like HOW THE HELL am I going to get to Santa Rosa at 6 am on July 3rd?

Obviously I don’t want to wake up at 2:30 am, drive 2+ hours in order to take a hot air balloon flight.

So I did the only thing I could think of. . . I booked an AirBnB for the night in the same zip code as the takeoff location.

That’s right.

Not only am I FLYING into the heavens untethered with nothing but an exploding bag of gas to keep me aloft. I am also going to spend the night in a stranger’s house.

I feel slightly comforted by the fact that the owners have a German Shepherd dog.

Anyone with a GSD is good peeps.

Also, they have upwards of 150+ great reviews from guests. So there’s that.

I also arranged to have dinner with my birthmom and her family the night before so BONUS! I get to see everyone and share a meal with them.

I’m totally excited.

I don’t get to see my birthmom enough.

Yes, I’m still nervous.

Yes, I’m still wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.

But listening to my friend Barbara describe how she loved her hot air balloon ride with her ex-boyfriend and how she wanted to take a ride with her mother makes me all the more determined to face my fear, swallow a few Xanax, and get the damn thing over with.

And if I happen to enjoy myself in the process – so much the better.

michelle