Stilettos Can Be A Girls Best Friend

It began well, perfect hair, perfect make-up and this super hot dress. We had reservations at Morton's Steakhouse in Portland.

We pulled up to the valet. He seemed like a nice young man and was well mannered and polite. I always go for the valet parking, not just because I spent a heck of a lot of money on my car, but because I love it. It's not going to sit in a lot so some moron can ding the door or so a drunken bum can pee on it.

I should have caught a clue when the valet didn't open my door. Whatever. I was ready to chill with a few Tanqueray 10 and tonics with a twist of lime and some Oysters Rockefeller. It was a night I'd been waiting for all week, no kids, great food and fantastic ambiance.

The evening was going very well until a couple brought a in a baby. Seriously, who in the hell takes a baby to Morton's, a screaming baby at that? Oh well, bring me another Tanq 10 and tonic and the screaming baby would fade into the background and I wouldn't end up telling the mentally challenged parents what idiots they were. Take the screamer to McDonalds for heaven's sake!

After enjoying a 3 hour dinner with T&T in hand, Filet Oskar and Creme Brulee it was time to call it a night. We went to retrieve my car. It was the perfect Portland evening and would have been an incredible walk the city night, that would be if I could walk after all the premium gin. The answer to that would be a big NO.


The valet promptly brought my car and opened my door so my friend could pour me in. Kid was on top of it now. Or at least I thought he was until he SLAMMED the door on my Mercedes! BIG pet peeve of mine thanks to my Dad. We grew up hearing "It's not an American car. You don't have to slam the door."

We also learned that if we slammed the car door, or any door for that matter, it must mean that we needed practice in learning to properly close a door. We would have to correctly close the door 30 times, one screw up and we had to start all over. My brothers are reading this now and nodding their heads in agreement.


My friend must have seen veins popping in my forehead. Just as I was reaching for my right stiletto to beat the valet to death my friend grabbed my twitching arm and demanded something he NEVER demands.

"Take two Xanex and take them now!" He then sped away.


So what you say? Dude only slammed the car door. WRONG! He violated my car! Here it is an hour and a half since we left and I'm contemplating getting in my car and taking my right stiletto back downtown!

Oh, and then get this. I walk in the house still pissed about the valet. My son looks at me and says

"Mom did you wear your hair like that tonight?"

I calmed down a bit feeling all that and said "Yes, why?"

"You look like you have guinea pig hair." Where the hell is my left stiletto?

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Kids, Make Mommy a Drink!

Yeah it's been one of those days, weeks, months, blah, blah, blah....

I've been concerned about one of my sons for awhile now. He shows all of the classic symptoms of bipolar disorder:


restlessness—high energy and activity level

racing thoughts and rapid talking

decreased need for sleep

euphoria

distractibility

grandiosity—inflated self-esteem

pursuit of reckless or pleasurable activities

That's the mania part of this disorder. That's usually him.

I haven't heard from him in a few days and I began to worry. He missed several big family events without so much as a text. I talked to him today and the mom antennae sprang into action. His voice was flat, he's withdrawn from everything, sleeping all of the time, not eating, and feeling hopeless. Classic signs of the depressive side.

We've brought up the subject to him a few times and he gets extremely annoyed with us. The last time he said several things that validated my suspicions. He said he felt invincible, full of energy, restless and he needed to travel. He has a personality to die for and his charisma is his biggest downfall. Classic.

I brought up the possibility of bipolar again.

Cole: "Mother"
Me: "Cole"
Cole: Mother!"
Me: "Cole!"
Cole "MOTHER!"

He only calls me "mother" when he's agitated. Ok, I backed off but at least I said a few things to make him think, I hope.

I'm going to ask him if he'd be willing to be screened, and I'll pay, so that he can tell me "I told you so." I know there's no way he'll be able to tell me that. I know that he's affected much more with bipolar than Karli and I are combined.

That scares me. He's much more at risk than we are for self-harm and suicide. He's 25 now so I have very little influence with him and he's the type of kid that if pushed to do something digs in his heels and will not budge.

Then Karli called the pediatrician about some symptoms that Anna-Grace is showing. They want to see her ASAP. The nurse's words were "those symptoms are not those of a well child." She also said "something as serious as this" cannot be ignored. Ok, fun times.

If those lovely things weren't enough I had to do my own laundry today! Me? Laundry? I mean I'm the one that has to ask my kids how to operate the dishwasher on the rare occaisions that I actually have to turn it on. I'd rather scrub a toilet than do laundry. Oh, wait, I pay someone to do that. Never mind.

Next on the list a friend of mine, Kevin, that shall remain nameless called me old! He asked if I was having a "senior" moment! I admit to blond moments, but "senior" moments? Never!

Now I find out that there's something that I've neglected. I can't believe it. I'm not sure how it happened. I mean my kids were washing their own clothes as soon as they were able to reach the controls. They've washed dishes for years. I've taught them how to cook. I made them all sew aprons, even the boys. I've tried to make sure that they're well rounded, able to handle any situation.

When I realized  my mistake I wasn't sure how to handle it. My head was spinning and I began to feel sick. It seems that not one of them, not a single one, can make me a drink! I mean how freaking hard is it to get a glass, pour the correct amount of Tanqueray into said glass, add tonic and a twist of lime?

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