The Posers...

So... we do restaurant reviews.

Or rather I should say we (my awesome husband and I) go out to eat at an assigned restaurant then I come home and write the review. My husband always says he has the easy job. What he doesn't take credit for is that he makes sure I don't forget my camera, notebook, pen or head, which normally is attached, but you never know.

For our assignment tonight we left the North Valley for the East Valley arts district. There are lots of fun things to do, places to go and restaurants to enjoy in this little corner of the valley. What they don't have, however, is the publication I write for. Nonetheless, over the phone, I convinced the owner of this very fine restaurant that I and the publication I represent exist and are legit. We set a time for my husband and I to come dine. To seal the deal I emailed the owner a link to the publication.

Now, to understand the rest of this story I have to tell you that one of our favorite authors is Chuck Paliniuk who writes amazing novels with some pretty outrageous characters. In fact, one of Chuck's trademarks is characters who pretend to be something they are not.

Fast forward to the restaurant... where the wine was flowing and we were being fawned over by every employee of the place. The owner showed and he could not have been more gracious. He introduced his wife and spent a great deal of time telling us how he created the fabulous recipes himself.

At the end, he told me he tried to find my publication online and wasn't able to. (This is due to the fact that I gave him the wrong name -- Husband kept track of that, too.) The owner had not rec'd my email, but still they were feeding us like we were royalty!

When he left the table, my husband leaned over and whispered, "sometimes I worry that I'm a character in a Chuck Palinuk novel!"

Poor guy... his life was pretty normal before he met me! :)

So I was having lunch today with a Writer/Director friend of mine who was regaling me with her latest tales of being treated badly by younger members of her crews. Some pretty horrifying ageism is alive and well in reality TV, if you ask me.

It's no secret. You can be a lot of things and still be employable in TV... as long as you are not OLD.

Our conversation moved on to family and then the pictures came out of the wallets. I handed over my picture with #1 son, favorite daughter-in-law, peanut, amazing husband and the teenager. She's met them all before and knows #1 son. She remembers teenager from when he was 9! She marveled at my gorgeous family and all their changes... and then a thought hit her.

She blinked at me a couple of times and said... "does this mean you're like a... grandma?" She lowered her voice for the last word, because you never know who's sitting at the next table.

I swallowed hard. I'm not the picture of a grandma... but honestly, who could deny a face like that? Besides, I looked it up and the average age for grandparents today is 47... the new middle age has been reset to 60. I'm somewhere in between. (Note: any family member who post my actual age here, will have their author privileges revoked!)

I had made a vow to myself when I knew Peanut was coming into the world that I didn't want to do that creepy thing of asking to be called some lame-ass nick name like Dodie or Pooky or anything to avoid the G-word. I'm just not going there. I'm Peanut's grandma, plain and simple and I'm going to fly that flag with pride!

So I smiled at her and said, "As a matter of fact I am a grandma... isn't he adorable?" Then I told her about how I took yesterday afternoon off from my heavy writing schedule to go with peanut and DI-L to the little lake to feed the ducks. I may have sacrificed some forward motion on the page count, but it was totally worth it.

Touchdown!

I spent ten months of my life imagining what our son would be like. What his firsts words would be, who he would look like and how he would act. I examined the DNA code and its intricate double helix structure and have to say that this little boy is a surprise in every way. I knew we would have a boy. I imagined he would have dark hair and dark eyes. I figured he would be a little bossy, (like his mommy) and a little funny (like his daddy). I never imagined the little blond-haired blue-eyed sweet, shy and sometimes stubborn child which makes everyday worth waking up for.

I knew being a mommy would change me. I figured I'd get less sleep, that my priorities would change and that I would feel pressure to make sure I wasn't responsible for future therapy sessions. That being said, I didn't expect to gush and glow over someone passing gas. I never thought I'd become a fan of everything "Wiggles." I certainly didn't think that I'd take pride in hearing the word poopy muttered by anyone. Life is funny that way!

Our little peanut (16 months) is in our eyes, absolutely brilliant. I remember thinking for so long growing up how funny it is that as children we have our parents on this pedestal and we think that they know everything and that they are totally perfect. I didn't imagine as a parent I would have that same feeling about my child. I have to say that this must be the perfect age, and if I could freeze time, I'd freeze it right now. I wish every day, every minute, with him would last a lifetime.

Our son, football fan extraordinaire, has completed us in every way. He is not what we were expecting, but certainly beyond our wildest dreams. In his own words, we scored, "Touchdown."