Mom and Scott, Sittin' in a Tree

So things are great with me and Scott, but beginning to feel a little lopsided.

I’ve spent some time at Scott’s house and with his daughters and pets- but he’s only been to my house when my children are incarcerated with Lars, so he’s not met them.

Time to change that.

So the next weekend I have the kids, we planned to make an introduction. And a lasagna.

What they know so far is limited. They’ve seen a picture. They know we went to high school together. I start to fill the kids in on some details.

Scott’s children – their names, ages and interests.
The situation between Scott and his children’s mother – so they can get a sense of how their lives compare with theirs.
The pets – Not only Charlie, Snoopy and Buddy (who I still call Ernie, and so does everyone else now) but also Snickers the Cat and Thumper the Bunny. Scott sends texts from his phone with pictures.
What Scott’s house is like – where it is and what I know about the town and what there is for them to do there.
What Scott does for a living, what he likes to do for fun, what do we talk about, how much do I like him, does he have any cool video games or systems?

My son is more interested in what Scott can offer him than Scott in general. Hadn’t cared much for J. and doesn’t have a lot of faith that I have picked a winner this time. Thank you for the confidence. I am ready for him to suggest a vetting committee.

My daughter is intrigued.

It is the Friday night before the Saturday that Scott and his youngest daughter are supposed to come. My daughter and I are enjoying a typical mother-daughter ritual. We are playing spa.

She has collected all my discarded makeup and some of her own, a dozen lotions and potions and polishes and hair notions and is giving me the works. Nails, up-do and makeup for a Big Event.

“So Mom…what kind of makeup do you want?” Long pause. “Wedding???????”

“Very funny,” I say. “Cut it out or no tip!”

She giggles, and then while I am a captive audience with my feet in a tub of perfumed water and a mud mask on my face and my hands being lotioned, she says, “ So, tell me, Mom. Did you and Scott have your first kiss yet?”

I smile - or try to with the paralyzing mud mask piled on an inch thick - and tell her, “Yes, sweetie, we have the first kiss out of the way.”

“Soooooooooo….who kissed who??????” she asks very brightly. So cute.

“Oh I am not really sure I remember, sweetie.” Which of course loosley translated means “Mommy had had a little chardonnay, sweetheart, and is still a little hazy about what exactly was happening when one of us planted one on the other. And please stop asking questions like this.”

“MOM!!!!!” she yells, pulling the eye thingies off of my eyes so I have to look at her while she scolds me. “How can you forget that? It’s a very important detail! How do you know who likes who more???!!!”

She is totally disappointed in my girly finesse. I am a cow in a china shop. How could I have botched this? She wants all the gossip and I have forgotten the details!

“Well, Lady Jane, if you must know, it doesn’t matter nearly as much to me as knowing that I like him enough to kiss him in the first place, which is a great place to start. Only kiss people you really like. Otherwise it's yucky."

“And sooooo..... do you think he likes you back?”

“Yes, sweetie, I am pretty sure he does.” I know this because he pushed his meatball across the plate to me with his nose the last time we were out to dinner.

"Well then we need to find some makeup for you for tomorrow! It's a very important day!" And she sets about very earnestly selecting all my beautifying treatments. As far as she's concerned, I'm going to need to be fabulous to get that second kiss.