So, here it is, the weekend... absolutely stunning outside. For anyone interested, my second toe is now regal purple. I almost thought of uploading a pict of it, but why dwell on it. Steve Martin's "Father of the Bride" is on TV and I was thinking about how much I miss when my son was a baby and I could hold him and kiss him 24 hours a day. A strange thought for a mother who couldn't WAIT for him to spend summers at sleep away camp, type his own high school reports, dependably wake up to an alarm clock or turn 16 so he could get a driver's license and become his own chauffeur. Infant/toddler stages were, for me, synonymous with slave driver/camp counselor. I much preferred the teen years which yes, I know, are usually the years from hell. As it happened though, I loved having a teen that could keep me abreast as to what was in, who was cool or how I could do things in a better way. I particuarly loved laughing with him while listening to Howard Stern, hoping I wasn't screwing up his mind for the rest of his life.On the other hand, his growing up meant I could no longer bathe him in hugs and kisses. Damnit. To this day, spending time with my son is still my alltime favorite thing to do. Too bad he'd probably prefer hanging with a woman his own age. But who can blame him? She's wearing a G-string and I'm pondering Depends.
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