Mother’s Day – But For Real

Last night I went to one helluva raucous party. People got tanked. Glasses were broken. The decibel level rose waaaay higher than anyone would’ve thought. I even scored a phone number (this girl’s still got it).

Funny thing is, it was all chicks. Even crazier – it was all moms and daughters.

Who would’ve thought that 48 hours after Mother’s Day, 7 sets of moms and their girlies would get together for a big group hug of an evening – and have a blast? Not me, that’s for sure.

When I first heard of the plan, I feigned excitement. My mother was delirious- over the moon with excitement, as I’m sure all the moms were. But as one of the daughters, I thought it would be some kind of pseudo-civilized, non-wedding shower sort o’ thang, a real eye-roller. To top it off, I learned that my own mother, the queen of the mom/daughter love affair, the biggest promoter of parent-offspring bonding EVER, the Maharaja of mothers would not be there. She was devastated. I thought for sure we were doomed… for a night of dud-dom.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

The food? Spectacular. The drinks? Fully flowing – as were the convos. People were chatting – and not just to their friends, but their friends’ mothers. And their mother’s friends. We suppposed grown up, sophisticated ladies soon turned into a noisy, rowdy crew. We came, we bonded, we conquered. We ate, we drank and we were all really, really, merry. We even have the photographic evidence to prove it.

I also learned a lot: that Neopolitan cake is not just for Bar Mitzvahs. That butts are the new boobs. That everybody colours their hair. That no one (other than yours truly) watches American Idol. That such a thing as a made-for-ice-cream spoon exists (they’re called ice cream spoons, go figure. That we all lie to our kids – white lies – to protect them. Or keep them from shrieking or doing drugs or whatever undesirable behaviour we wish to curb. That the whole strength from adversity thing isn’t just a pile of shit. It’s true! And mostly I learned that, like it or not, the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree. Whether we like it or not.

Amid the mother/daughter dates, I was the only one flying solo. And each one of the lovely ladies who came to the dinner had some story, some anecdote, something special to say about my mother. And I couldn’t have been prouder. Or missed her more. When I got home, all I wanted to do was call her, to rehash, discuss and laugh. Yup, I was one of those nearby apples. Closer to the tree than I’d ever imagined. But hey – aren’t we all?!