In observance of the Thanksgiving holiday, Spliff, her mom and I decided to have some drunken girl time.
One of the reasons that I love Spliff’s mom is because she is just like one of my friends. Granted, she knew me when I was 15 and used to give me that motherly look of disapproval when I would smoke a cigarette in front of her (she still sort of does but eleven years later, there are a lot worse things to be concerned with…and I won’t have to worry about whether or not she will let me come and visit Spliff for the weekend) but, outside of that, I’ve realized that I would probably hang out with her even if she weren’t my best friend’s mom.
My mom is another story entirely. My mom and I have probably “hung out” three times in my entire life. Part of me wishes that she wasn’t so neurotic and insane and that we could be friends. The other part of me just wishes that I lived further away.
So, when Spliff’s parents decided to come and cook Thanksgiving Dinner (very quietly) at our house, I was relieved that I would get to boycott the whole freak show that is my family. Spliff’s parents are people, not machines. And I really like them. They do normal Thanksgiving things and no one forces shots of Moonshine down your throat. Wait…that was Mother’s Day. Either way…you get it.
Last night, since Mother of Spliff came early enough to attend trivia with Jess and The Dentist, we went out, had several drinks and amazed ourselves with our knowledge of 70’s sitcoms and turkey facts. After four or five glasses of red wine, MOS was ready to enjoy the evening. And by “enjoy” I mean…EXPERIENCE…and by “experience” I mean, go to reggae night at the pub where Psycho Rasta works. (He wasn’t there. And I a thinking that maybe he found a new job…fingers are crossed.) So, that’s what we did. Roles reversed and Spliff became the voice of reason, barely heard over MOS repeating, “but I never get to do stuff like this! Come on! I’m on vacation!”
Two beers later, we were on our way out. But only with promises to MOS of “Sex and the City” Season Six. We made it through one episode and another beer and then it was lights out. The funny thing is, sitting there, watching Sex and the City with MOS and Spliff, I felt maybe for the first time, not even envious, but happy for them. Good for them for being so real and fun. Good for them for having a relationship that isn’t just yelling and anger. Good for them.
And I’m pretty damn thankful that I get to be involved, on whatever small scale…Because, shit, I will never have that with my mom.
I am thankful for other things too. Like the fact that I am not homeless. Or hungry. Or lonely. Or lacking love in my life. And that I don’t have to go to my mom’s today. But thankful that I have a mom who, in her own very strange and irritating way, loves me. And two step families that rock. And Ernge. Oh, god, thank you for Ernge.