Charlotte’s Blog

A Mother’s Day

 

Today was Mother’s Day: the American Mother’s Day, as opposed to the British one or the Iranian one.  (I am English by birth, Iranian by heritage, American by choice).  Iranians have a tendency to adopt the holidays of other cultures with surprising ease and unmatched zest, so my Facebook account was zinging with Happy Mother’s Day messages to and from my out-of-town Iranian family and friends.

Back home, my nine-year-old American-born son RJ made me a homemade card, but promptly went to his room for throwing it at me.  He had been watching a cartoon before being rudely interrupted by dad to give mom a card!  Meanwhile, my American husband Ron prepared my favorite breakfast of bacon, a soft-boiled egg with toast fingers, and coffee…lots of coffee.  (RJ joined us by then, set the table, repentant and forgiven.)  I did not even touch the dirty dishes or clean up the kitchen, which after Ron cooking may take the better part of a day. 

Instead, I went for my morning walk, fiddled around on the computer, trying to update my website (my sister in LA, a fashion and tech icon of sorts told me it was too nineties, like me, I suppose).  The morning flew by.  For lunch, we wolfed down Middle Eastern delights at a local Lebanese restaurant. 

Then my real mom’s day started.

RJ’s baseball practice and game ran from 1:00-4:00 at a City of Alexandria field that even the kids were calling “Alcatraz.”  Surrounded by a tall barbed wire fence (if it was not barbed, it should have been), Luckett Field had a single entrance and a sign that read, “Don’t feed the wildlife” or was that “Don’t mess the with jail birds!”  The field definitely did not live up to its name.  Un-Luckett or Lock-It would have been better fits.  Anyway, I sat in the front row in a comfortable seat, shaded by pretty parasols and fanned by palmettos, sipping champagne and nibbling canapés, NOT.

After that I raced home to pick up RJ’s skateboard and helmet, which I always carry in my car but which he had taken out and forgotten to put back in, so that he and his buddy could skateboard at the skating park, while I watched.  Lots of slips and slides later, RJ and I got home in time for dinner.  I threw together leftovers—complaints were silenced because it is Mother’s Day after all.

Tonight, I am contemplating adding the British and American Mother’s Days to the calendar.  You know, buy me some more time.  I am a lifer after all.

 

 

 

Copyright Charlotte Safavi

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 9th, 2009 at 4:20 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.