So in a matter of hours I will have Marmie's tiny body wrapped in my big ol arms.... bear hug fashion.
I get so excited driving to the airport.... I run, OJ Simpson style, toward her arrival gate.
N'ver mind that ladies of my advancing age shouldn't (attempt to) run that fast anywhere... (jiggly-midsections and chins, piddles in your porkies, gasping for breath and all that jazz).
I'm just so damned excited to see my mom.
My plan always is to have her all to myself... but you know, Goog is getting married this trip which means we have lots of weddingly festivities and details to attend to.
Adding insult to the injury that is this situation, Susan (my sister, the one who doesn't read this blog) informed me on the phone yesterday that she prepared Marmie a Chicken Parmesan feast (of course this is all in an attempt to swoon (yes, swoon) our mother into thinking that ....
A. She may be a good cook
B. She may be a good planner
C. She could possibly become Marmie's favorite daughter by tending to all her needs
and this week, while Marmie is in town, Susan, that no good sister of mine will surely whip up a homemade banana cream pie, a cherry pie and whatever else Marmie may even think of craving)
So Marmie is going to somehow have to make time for that all that smoozing and butt kissing.
Marmie mentioned that she planned to see her brother (who will be out of town for Goog's wedding) on the day she arrives...
Frankly, I really don't appreciate Marmie getting pulled in lots of different directions.
With all this brother, other daughter(s), weddings and such going on... exactly when! WHEN!!! WHEN!!!??? am I going to get a piece of my mother..?
Last night on the phone Marmie said, ever soooo gently, to me "Are you okay with my plans for tomorrow?"
"Umm, sure mom, why not?" I answered..
"Well Lizzie, you aren't very good at sharing"...
"Mu-ther..., seriously...I've outgrown that..duh"