The Bad Mom

The ocean was calling me back so I went to the East Coast of Italy to a town called Rimini. This is where the Italians vacation. I checked into a hostel not far from the beach. The owner of the hostel, Paulo was a single father to an adorable eight-year-old girl named Mia. She thought I was some kind of celebrity because I told her I was from California. I was pretty taken by her because she reminded me of my niece, who I missed all the time. Mia was determined to teach me Italian. We went for walks. She would point to something and say it in Italian and I would repeat the word and she would laugh at my pronunciation. I challenged her to a game of Ping-Pong and whooped her butt. “Who’s laughing now?” I teased her.

One of the girls at the Chique Terra hostel suggested a trendy hostel in Rome, owned by some fabulous American gay guys called “The Yellow.” I checked in and the front desk guy let me know there would be a pub-crawl that night. I had a big day planned of seeing the Pope at the Vatican the next day so I passed on the pub-crawl and crawled my ass into bed. I had the weirdest dream about the IRS coming to confiscate my brain like aliens. Nobody in my family had been to college, it was a personal goal of mine to break the cycle and finish school. During the big dot com boom in the late 90’s my mom got a job in the Silicon Valley for some start-up company. Her position as “Office Manager” included stock options. Mom didn’t know what stock options meant, her co-workers just said, “Sell.” She sold about a million dollars worth of stock. The money made her feel guilty and uncomfortable, so she gave it all away. She bought one of my sisters a modular home in a trailer park. The other sister got a van and band equipment. Mom asked me what I wanted and I told her about my dream of going to college. She paid my full tuition to Mt. Hood Community College where I received an AS degree in Radio Broadcasting. That’s as far as I got with my schooling before mom got a knock at the door from the IRS. She didn’t know the stock was taxable and by the time they caught up with her, all the money was gone. They repossessed everything but my degree.

My roommates Kat and Lily were married New Years Eve in Vancouver, BC. (Yes son before you were born it was illegal for same sex partners to be married in America.) Isn’t that crazy? It also used to be illegal for black people to drink out of the same drinking fountains as the white people. After a small ceremony we went out to dinner then dancing. Being four months pregnant I wasn’t in the mood to dance, I wasn’t really in the mood to be there but it was New Years and I volunteered to be the designated driver. So I sat back and watched. This drunken chick came up and asked why I wasn’t dancing. I told her I was pregnant; she got on her knees and shouted into my tummy, “You wanna dance baby?” The Canadian girl then gave us a lap dance. “Isn’t that cute, Baby’s first lap dance, I’ll have to note this in the baby book,” the voice in my head says. She sat down next to me and rubbed my belly shouting gibberish into my stomach until she passed out using my stomach as her pillow. Kat walked up and asked who my new friend was; she says her name is Brandy, can we go now? Rule # 1 son: Stay away from drunken chicks named after liquor.

I flew to Louisville for my sister’s backyard wedding in late October. Louisville is beautiful in the fall with tree lined streets blooming in bright hues of orange and red leaves. Quiet neighborhoods with scarecrows and pumpkins placed outside their screened in porches. It was a small wedding because most of our family lives in California, but I couldn’t miss this for anything. When I think back to my own wedding ten years ago and the trouble my sister went through to attend, I had to be there.

My sister Scarlett is beautiful, smart and hilarious. She was always the center of attention, entertaining everyone with her imitations and jokes. In her freshman year of high school, she dropped out, ran away and became a heroin junkie. One day we were watching TV and saw a commercial for a drug rehab. The commercial featured my sister sitting on a street corner begging for money. They aired this commercial on a regular basis for years. We got a call on New Years Eve. Scarlett had overdosed, she was in the hospital where they were able to shoot her up with adrenaline and bring her back to life. As soon as she was breathing, she was arrested. My family went to visit her in Juvenile Hall. She was upset. Her cellmate and fellow junkie from the neighborhood had died. She overdosed in juvy after her father smuggled in some heroin, another fine example of parenting.

Scarlett was taken from my parent’s custody and became a ward to the state. She was shipped off to drug rehab where she was doing really well. The rules were that you couldn’t leave the center until you graduated. We were able to make a deal so that Scarlett could be in my wedding; the catch was she had to be handcuffed to an escort because of her history of running away. I won’t be able to top the handcuffs but I will be announcing my French Bastard.

Food is very important to a pregnant women, I mean peoples lives are at stake if food is not available. (Did somebody say steak?) You loose control of your actions then gain it back in your ass. Scarlett’s wedding reception included a buffet but it wasn’t quite ready. I waited patiently for about three seconds then grabbed my plate and attacked. A group of guest sitting at a near-by table noticed my rude behavior. One of them yelled, “It’s not ready!” while another one went to go find my sister to tell on me. A man came up and scolded me, “you have to wait for the bride and groom!” I shoved some crab cakes into my mouth ignoring their existence whatsoever. Then the tattletale dragged my sister over and says, “Look at her, she’s eating before its ready!”
Scarlett explains, “That’s just my pregnant sister, I would stay out of her way before somebody gets hurt.”

Molly, when did you have your first drink? My niece asked after getting busted for drinking and fighting.

On my twenty-first birthday which was also my wedding day…and I was a virgin.

You Lie!

I was in the eighth grade and mom had just had a Bunco party where her friends left behind a bunch of vodka. The next day, before school, my two friends Sam and Maddy came to my house.

Look what I got, I said revealing the bottle from behind my back.

Let’s get wasted. I said taking the first swig and passing it to Sam who swigged and passed to Maddy who swigged and around we went until the bottle was empty. I filled the bottle up with water and placed it back on the kitchen counter. We stumbled through the back alley smoking a cigarette.

Maddy began laughing hysterically for no reason, “careful, you might pee your pants again.” Sam said referring to the major incident that happened one week prior to the: get wasted before school day.

Sam flicked a calligraphy pen filled with ink at my face. Maddy busted into laughter at the sight of me with black splatter thrown across my face. Maddy stopped laughing and ran out of the classroom.

Hey look, Maddy peed her pants, Sam yelled, pointing to the puddle left on Maddy” chair.

I started turning my locker when I heard, Maddy yell, “I hate you bitch!” while jumping Sam. A crowd gathered and cheered on their favored chick. A teacher broke up the fight. I don’t know why but my instinct told me to jump on the teacher who then grabbed me and drug us all to the principal’s office. We were suspended for three days.

At least it wasn’t downloaded on the internet, my niece says. Yes there are some perks to being an old fart from the stone ages of a