By Mary Anna Violi | @Mary Anna Violi
First, I would like to go on record as stating that I am not bitter. It is important that I share that tidbit of information. As I sit here alone pushing leftover fried rice from dinner last week at my favorite Japanese grille, I am trying to focus on how Tuesday my daughter and I are celebrating two events: Her finishing her first year of law school, and a belated Mother’s Day.
Why, one may ask, am I spending Mother’s Day alone for the first time in 22 years? The answer is two-fold. It begins with some calendar-challenged individual at her law school scheduling the last of the final exams for first-year students the day after Mother’s Day, at 8:00 a.m., no less. Never mind that the second and third year students finished their final exams last week. I guess I had grown accustomed to celebrating the end of her undergraduate school years on Mother’s Day since those final exams occurred earlier in May each year. She wanted to come home for Mother’s Day, if even for only a quick meal together. However, that “quick meal” would likely go on for some hours, resulting in her returning to her law town infinitely later than she originally planned. I urged her to stay put, remain in the final exam study mode, and come home on Tuesday.
Sometimes I loathe being noble for my child, all the while knowing it is the right and decent thing to do.
The second-fold reason I am flying solo this Mother’s Day is because on Thursday I had out patient surgery at my dermatologist’s. No, it was not a chemical peel, a Botox injection, or any of the other beautifying techniques that clever doctor knows how to do. Alas, it was something far more mundane, yet vital to my health and well-being: The removal of pre-cancerous formations on my face. Thank God for my talented hair stylist, for I have been able for sometime to hide these manifestations with my vogue haircut and makeup. However, I began to grow fearful, and I also wanted to pull my hair back from my face in the warmer weather. What I did not count on were the two black eyes and scary-looking dark red and brown-blistered aftermath on my face of the heat and freezer techniques used, although today I must admit that I resemble more of a psychedelic raccoon with purple rings around my eyes, instead of black ones. I fancy The Beatles could have used me on the cover of their Sgt. Pepper’s album. At least the raging swollen redness on my face of Thursday and part of Friday has abated. The pain has subsided too, thanks to Motrin and heaps of ointment I was instructed to apply on the wounds. Had I known I would resemble something from a fright night movie, I would have scheduled the surgery for well-after Mother’s Day.
Frankly, I was not keen on my daughter or any member of my brother’s family seeing me in my present condition [no makeup either until I am completely healed in six more days or so]. Consequently, my incredibly quiet Mother’s Day is somewhat self-induced. I have little cause to complain: My daughter called me, as did my brother and his family, which all buoyed my spirits considerably. Taking care of my health and well being is also something to cheer me up too, though I would prefer to be celebrating this day with my family face to face [no pun intended].
I think I have a bag of P.F. Chang’s frozen Orange Chicken in the freezer for dinner tonight…
Ciao for now.