Pages

Monday, November 20, 2006

Goodness Gracious

Where have I been?

Well, I know I've used this excuse before, but it's still happening: I've been trying to buy a house for the first time. We had one offer accepted, only to have it fall through due to what I can only describe as seller insanity (more on that later, when I have time for a good three-page post. Heh). Now we're working on another offer.

No one mentioned to me by the way (and I'm glaring at YOU, everyone) that this house-buying thing was a full-time job. My apartment is starting to look decent to me, and that's scary.

I've also been working on a work project that is, of course, currently deciding to take 1/3 again as much time as my client originally projected it would. As all projects invariably do. So I'm not sure why I even feel the need to mention that it's taking more time than I thought it would. But with that on top of our recent adventures in real estate-- forget you people-- I feel like my son is shortly going to forget my name. Aren't I, um, a stay-at-home mom? I thought I was . . .

Anyway, my birthday came over the weekend, and I turned 25 again.

(I have decided, as of this year forth, that I shall turn 25 every year until I am 60. All right with you folks?

What?

You say 26 is not old and I should shut the hell up? You say I'm an addle-pated uppity whippersnapper who is too big for her britches? La la la I can't hear you.)

On my birthday, no presents were lost. We weren't kicked out of any restaurants. And I didn't get food poisoning. So, all in all, I'd have to say, this was a huge improvement over last year!

However, the most momentous event that happened on my birthday was that my mother called me.

My mother called me on my birthday, for the first time in seven years.

The evening before my birthday, being an evil daughter, and a connoisseur of the sarcastic tone, I had formulated a wicked plan to call my mother late in the evening on my birthday. After waiting all day for her not to call me, I would call her myself, and, the moment my mother picked up the receiver, without even giving her the opportunity to say so much as "Hello," I would say,

"Mother, I am calling you to give you the opportunity to wish me a Happy Birthday."

Don't you see? It was perfect. The righteous irony would drip from my voice. The weight of seven years of daughterly disappointment, elegantly compressed into a single sentence, would barrel through the telephone line in a hundredth of a second, and, upon reaching the receiver on the other end, the smooth cover of seemingly polite words would uncoil in an instant to unleash a flattening blast of mother-guilt. Like a molotov cocktail, wrapped in silk.

It would be, in fact, exactly the type of brilliantly executed, impossible-to-dodge guilt-trip my mother herself is famous for.

But then, she called me.

Boy, that really knocked the wind out of the sails of my revenge ship.

In fact, it made me feel kind of guilty for plotting to guilt-bomb her . . .

Ah, touche, Mom. Touche.

8 comments:

Sherri said...

Don't deny your age. You're not old enough to worry about wrinkles. But listen, here's something to look forward to. I love being mid-thirties, way more than I liked mid-twenties.

And good luck on the house search. I bought this house last year, and it's the best feeling. Don't give up!

Sherri said...

Oops, and happy birthday :)

Reba said...

Hey I am 26 and I am not old. MOst of my friends are already in their 30s though so I think that helps to make me feel young.

Happy Belated Birthday!

Andrea said...

26? TWENTY SIX!? Come back when you're on the precipice of 30. Then 40. Then maybe 50, and you can start to have un-birthdays.

Happy Birthday! (I wish I'd have known sooner. I would have made you my dad's world famous cheesecake, and then offered to come over and help you eat it.)

Here's a real estate tidbit: by the time you actually close and gear up to move all your stuff, you'll hate the house you're buying. It will only be after everything is unpacked and properly placed that you'll look around and think, "Maybe this place isn't so bad after all. And hey! The lights stay on when it rains." Fair warning. Moving is hard work. I wish you the best.

Stephanie A. said...

Happy 25th Birthday! I have to say, though, I'm totally rockin' my 30's, so at some point you may want to join me there. That's where I'll stay, though- 32 every year. :)

Isn't that just like a mom to deflate your sails?

Good luck with the move!

the mad momma said...

A belated happy birthday Jaelithe... as for mothers.. i am yet to win a round against mine...

lildb said...

Jae. I'm sorry about that. I mean, about her, and the whole thing.

and I hope you had a really nice birthday.

and "molotov cocktail wrapped in silk" should be engraved in titanium, if that's possible.

Ruth Dynamite said...

Glad you had a good one! (And glad your mom called, too.)