2002 Story Set
| September 24, 2002 Saturday my best-laid plans went awry. I had planned this birthday surprise party for my younger son for months. Literally. A TNT member had volunteered his house. My son is the honoreee for two Leukemia & Lymphoma society Team in Training Teams. My older son was to come get his brother and whisk him out of the way. I would get food and beer. And, of course, the cake. The web Evite was out. The hospital staff knew. The two TNT teams knew. My office even knew. One of the athletes helped me find and hire----a stripper. You do not turn 21 often. So, of course my younger son got sick. Of course he did. And of course, he was in the hospital for his actual birthday. Which we took advantage of by ragging on him as to how a stripper just couldn't be brought in to pediatrics. He'd have to be moved to the adult ward. (where Mommy couldn't stay with him for hours on end - waiting on him hand and foot). Unless, of course, I hired a MALE stripper, in which case the nurses might be able to make arrangements------giggle giggle. My son was at this time on oxygen and struggling to breathe. We did not let up. He had asked for a lap dance......before getting sick. As a joke, I'm sure. There is a limit as to what a mother can do. I kept checking with the doctor - "He will be out by the 21st - right?" Because plans were afoot. I kept checking while they X-rayed, and then CT scanned, and checked for bacteria and for fungus and sared me to death. He coughed and threw fevers and I worried and fussed. Finally, they let him out. Monday. The Monday before the party. I emailed everyone. Party is STILL ON. Now, for his real birthday I had tried to set fire to 3EAST - where he had been moved out of isolation in 2NORTH when he was showing improvement. I brought a cake (he had earlier told the doctor that I would be bringing a cake - that confident). I lit 23 candles - or 24. 10 relights, two numerals, and a singing thing that we couldn't turn off. I lit the candles right under the smoke alarm. And moved fast. The doctor gave him a tee shirt. The nurses gave him a BIG beer stein. They wanted to engrave it - but couldn't get it done in time. I gave him a smile. I had made arrangements with the older son, who had come for food and cake, to visit on Saturday, D-day as it were, and abscond with his brother. I was in count-down. Stripper was deposited. House secured. People RSVP'd. So----- First, my older son fell off the planet. I could not reach him all week long for love nor money. Now, unless he needs something from me, this is not in itself unusual. And on Friday, I was in a meeting until I said I really had to go at 6PM (with the company CTO no less), and ended home too late to book catering with Togo's. I got to Blockbuster while I was out but nothing else was open. Too late for the cake too. Then my younger son tells me that on IRC, his brother said he was sick. I blew a fuse. Now I am panicked. So--- Saturday, I went out madly on Mother-hunt. Post Office, bank for cash (for the stripper) and then off to the film store for cameras. From there I ran for the cake, candles (Albertson's again) and off home while I waited for Togo's to open. I had the cake in my hands (a big 1/2 sheet) and came in - the boy was up - I thought in the family room - so I ran to the bedroom to hide the cake - and there he was, sitting naked on the throne as it were with the bathroom door open. He would do this today! Rats! OK. I tried to recover whle he just grinned. "We have a TNT party today. I am bringing the food." Sure I am. I check my phone. TEN messages from the older child (all of 26) looking for his parental unit. I caught the next one. He is feverish and down for the count. DAMN! DAMN! DAMN! Pardon me while I swear! I put the younger one on the phone in my bedroom to talk to his brother since he had been looking forward to time with his sibling - sitting right next to the cake. OK. THe surprise is sort-of down. And the kid has decided he doesn't feel like going to a TNT party today. Well, kido, you are going! I had to blurt it out. The party is for you! "Well, I saw the cake, Mom!" I fled for Togo's. I ordered platters. I went to COSCO. Soda, beer, etc. I came home. I put the folding two-seater chair in the truck and grabbed the cargo-net. I went to get the kid ready. Pick up for the food was 1:30. Well --- now he did not want a shower. (Nearly fell on Thursday morning - before they gave him blood). He bitched and moaned and I threw him into the SoftTub spa instead. He put his head over the side and I shampooed his hair. With a lot of directions. "Slowly Mom. Low water pressure," (as I rinsed with the cold hose). Hedonist! I got him dressed, the cake in the truck, him in the truck, and off to Togo's and back to Albertson's for ice. And hit the road----- He laughed about knowing about the party all the way down. Chuckle chuckle. "How would you have gotten the food down there?" "You're brother was to take you there!" He he he. And he had to add, "My TNT buddies wouldn't let me down!" So we get there, and set up sort of - because they have a dog that is the worst pest. Into everything. (Got into the cake too, eventually.) And I get a beer. Coor's Light. For a non-drinker (or no consistent drinker), this is a treat. We have people drift in and out, not the 25-30 expected. But then, I always buy things WE eat so leftovers are not wasted. Just a large cake. (Give me a week, I'll eat it too!) I gave my son a pineapple - because he gets a one-week trip to Hawaii when chemo is done. With his Mom of course! I have chocolates shaped like mini booze bottles - about 1/8th shot in each. Cute! From COSCO. By the end of the day --- I have two beers and about 5 mini-shots of booze. (By the next morning, right in the middle of PMS-time, I have a hangover. I was a wreck all day Sunday.) By about 7PM, SHE arrives. I pay her, and tip her well. The rules are --- embarrass the boy! Who had said to me earlier, glibly, "I hope you didn't get me a stripper, my heart isn't up to it. Cough. Cough." Which should be interpreted as: "Gee - I hope I get a stripper." Well, she came out the door. (Pretty young thing) and he says to the woman near him, "Who's that?" "Oh, some one on the team," she says, in on the joke. "Oh no she's not." And he's caught. She was not a true burlesque pro - girls today don't have that slow tease thing going - but she did 15 minutes of dancing all over him while scantily (very) clad while he tried to figure out what he should do, where to put his hands, where to look and had a silly grin on his face. Guys gave him dollar bills to shove in her bra and her thong thing. I grabbed my camera. It was over fast enough, and he was shaking his head the rest of the evening. He claimed that the doctor had blown the whole thing by asking him how the party went. He claimed that he "didn't react to strippers - he's had life drawing class." He claimed that she wasn't a good dancer (same moves over and over) - well, yes. But for a party like this - there was a limit. We wanted "gentle". We got it. I took the boy home about 10PM, and he rested while I unloaded and packed up food and stuff. Then I went to bed with a mini-booze chocolate bottle. I have earned it. Days later, I am still hearing about the stripper. Little comments thrown in. Constantly. Oh yeah. It had no impact. Right. Uh huh! And there's this bridge in Brooklyn----- Film at 11. |
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