Mama is here.

There were so many beautiful moments from this last weekend. So many picture-perfect snapshots into what my life looks like on a daily basis. First there was pissing off the waiter on Vivo's lovely patio by trying to squeeze too many people at one table. "It's just bad for business," he said. And we were all drinking.

I knew that going home after dinner to change into my Regular Baby t-shirt before heading to the kickball game was a good idea. Showing support by sporting team colors is critical in the cut-throat world of kickball. But picking up my megaphone on the way out the door was a great idea. When we walked up to the stands and sat near the only other people on our side I said, "Hi. I'm Sonnet. You're going to hate me."

I scare people at sporting events even without a megaphone so that might hint at the spectacle the kickball fans and players enjoyed. I'm pretty sure one of the opposing team's players and I almost fell in love. I'm positive that I tried to get the ump to fall in love with me. Peter thought I was cute. And he's right. He smiled at me while pretending to ignore my constant "Hey Peter. How ya doin'?"But he was a little scared. So was the woman I'm trying to get to hire me for a big important position. Maybe it was when I touched her boob. I'm not saying that I have the power to rule the world, but our team lost by the smallest margin yet. Thank Mama.

Just to go ahead and prove to the world at large that me with a megaphone makes the world a little brighter, I took it to the Blue Theater where I'm pretty sure I got in a fight with someone for trying to commandeer the megaphone for show tunes. I thought he should just go ahead and fuck off. "You need to learn to respect the Mama," were my exact words.

I ended the night with a parting, "Goodnight Motherfuckers!" and then, "Mama out." When I asked my friend the next day who I should expect to hate me, she said, "You were hilarious. I think people loved you just a little more."

And my baby cousin Calei and her boyfriend were here for the weekend. It was nice to have family here. Especially family with a case of obsessive neatness. Yeah. She cleaned under my bed. Plus, she's got the cutest giggle you ever heard. (Cal - WWGD.)

I've been referring to myself to Mama for a month or so. It's starting to catch on. I'm not blind to the Freudian implications of acting more maternal towards all my friends and family as I continue the vagina-invading death march, "Infertility Drama 2.75". (For those of you keeping track, that is now the official title of the whole thing. Please make a note.) I've been in therapy longer than you. Have too. The Mama bit is just my own brand of cognitive therapy. Mama works for me. I'm currently recruiting members for my posse. Mama takes care of her own.

That leads me to my favorite moment of the weekend. I, sun and margarita-soaked, was sitting next to Alex at dinner with a big group of people and the conversation splintered off. I said something to him in Mama-speak. Mama needs this or Mama knows that. Alex looked at me, his voice barely above a whisper, his tone drier than cottonmouth, and said, "I'm not calling you Mama."

After almost eight years (Eight years in 13 days. Mama is nothing if not precise.) it said so much -- how different we are, what a challenge it can be to make those differences work in the life we make together, how in those moments when the awareness of all those ways we're different meets up with that thing that brought us together (Alex=funny=Sonnet smooch Alex), and we feel the length of each day of those eight years -- it's really, really nice to be his bird.*

* This should not in any way influence someone's decision not to mark the eight year anniversary of the first time he kissed me with a gift.

Comments

[Lulu]

I LOVE Mama!

[jEFF]

he he hehe heeh heh
(Cal - WWgb)

[black b]

is it wrong to have such a covetous attitude towards being on a kickball team?

[sonnet]

No. It's not wrong. It's just sad.

You know, if you were here for a kickball game, they would totally let you play. When I'm there and not really drunk, they even want me to play. And we all know what that would look like. Unless it's touch football and I have Konrad, I'm useless in the sports arena.

[glycerin]

Mama's got the magic of Clorox 2!

-roxanne