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My Profile
Fairytales for a Practical Princess - 2008-11-30
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2:40 a.m. - 2003-09-27
My boy is home!!! My boy is home!!!! Okay, it’s only been a month since he left, but I’m new at this. Being the mom of an “adult” child takes some practice. He looks exactly the same. (Why should there be some HUGE difference in the way he looks after a whole 4 weeks away?) But I did notice something. It was last night and we were on the phone confirming his arrival and such and I realized my boy sounds just like me. JUST like me. His voice is deeper of course, but his inflections, the way he tells a story, all of it. It was like talking to myself on the phone last night. It was too funny. Alex looks like me. Always has. Testosterone has changed that a bit, I mean I barely have pubic hair, let alone a beard, but he and I are about as close to clones as parent and child can be. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been stopped at the Shoprite and told, “You MUST be Alex’s mom. My goodness! He looks just like you!” So to find out my boy talks like me too was a hoot. When I pointed it out, he laughed and thanked me. “People think I’m funny, Mom. And GIRLS like talking to me. They say I’m really easy to talk to.” Hey, score one for our side. It’s all well and good that Mike makes Clint Eastwood sound chatty, but if my boy is serious about becoming an entertainer then he needs to be able to schmooze. And it’s because Mike is so closemouthed that I’ve encouraged Alex to be a talker. Since his birth I’ve been aware that not only was I raising a son, I was raising a potential HUSBAND. Oh for sure Alex can be as dimwitted about details and domestic stuff as any guy, but I have raised him with the expectation that he WILL be a full participant in his home life. So I taught him to cook. And clean. And food shop. To do these things not as FAVORS, but because he lives here too. The whole idea of freighting my future daughter-in-law with a hapless boob of a husband, some ESPN worshiping, anniversary forgetting, would starve to death if not fed, domestically challenged GUY was just wrong. So when Alex is hungry he doesn’t just fix himself a sandwich and leave the mess, he asks if anyone else is hungry and prepares a meal. He notices when I’ve had my hair done. He knows dirty clothing doesn’t magically clean and fold itself. And he talks. Better yet, he converses. He and I can talk about anything. He’s interesting, funny, kind, and smart. Thoughtful of both physical comfort and emotional well-being. He can tell a joke, burp a baby, and make a mean Chicken Oregano. He puts the seat down and hangs his coat up. Basically he’s the guy all women hope to settle down with after they get over their bad boy phase. An open statement to the lucky woman who marries my son… You’re welcome. Gonna go check on BOTH my sleeping boys, ~LA
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