Mercedes Turns Two

Our little girl was turning two for the first and last time. In all honesty, the party probably meant as much to my wife as it ever could to my daughter. We put together a very decent afternoon on a shoestring budget at the local Lions Club Park. We rented a pavillion and put dollar store streamers all over it. We ordred a cake and got a dozen happy meals from the local McDonalds. Our family doesn't demand that presents be a prerequisite for a birthday celebration. My wife and I feel that attendence and agknowledgement are a more divine form of flattery.

We invited our very small world of the closest relatives we both treasure, and all the kids our bloodlines could muster. My wife, Tina, made inspired choices as to the different games played, that while lacking structure, proved how that means nothing to the brilliant time had by every single kid involved. On a friends suggestion, we acquired a pinata, and stuffed it full of small toys and every penny candy at our disposal. Small bags of 'prizes' were given to each child who "won", "lost", or just played hard. Afterwards, a bunch of good people, that I was priveleged enough to be among, sat around for the greater part of an afternoon talking of life, love, politics, children, and everything else that came up just as a matter of course. My little girl still, five months later, mentions that day and corolates "birthday party" with the utmost joy and giddyness thanks to every other person there but my mother.

Now I must agknowledge the embarrasing and unfortunate happenings that made this party's success an even more immaculate happening. My mother showed up roughly four to five hours early, as was planned, to help in the clockwork patterns of party preperation. She has random issues. Drugs, lying, general chaos following her every step. A few weeks earlier, she received a massive inheretence from the estate of her dead father, which she celebrated. His death alike the financial benifit....the same. Her description of the joy she felt at his demise still stains my heart. Fowl and perstilent. We planned much in advance of that day, things like the pavillion rental, ordering the food, and guest lists. My mom knew the rules....and boy.......let that set the stage.

The rules were: No drugs at my house on my daughter's day. No animals were allowed in the park. Common decency should be entertained at all times.

Simple, right?...no no no.. First she will not leave the house without this gigantic labrador retriever. That's fine, it could stay in the motor home she drove to my house, or at my house while we were all at the park. That was just too much to ask, as that dog's carnal relationship she bestowed, demanded he be treated as an adult man. So she takes the dog to the park and starts to take him on a tour of the grounds.

At this point I make it abundantly clear that, for the ump-tinth time that day, animals are not allowed in this "Childrens Park". There were signs all over. I told her to expect an uninvited conversation with one of the random, older, male, groundskeepers that keep that glorious park running on all cylinders. Inevitably, it took less than ten minutes for it to happen. A man, very, very politely, confronts my mother with the fact that this is an area for small children and, as all these signs testify, is completely off limits to animals. Certainly all the more to a hundred pound dog that could not be demeaned by a leash. I'm not even exaggerating.

Well, as I mentioned earlier, she has drug issues also. The man declares that all she need do is place the dog in the motor home with the promise to leave it inside until she left the park. In her state, that was a personal attack on her beloved. She promptly told him to go f*ck himself and he should take a walk before she got really upset. I am already by the wayside, begging his forgiveness and insisting she just listen to his oh-so-polite and reasonable request. Well, she continues, in front of twenty of our closest family and friends (many under 6 years old), to rip this guy a new asshole with every cuss word at her disposal.

He is forced into a corner and has to protect the other random 50 children at this large park that day. He calls the police. Instant panic. Paranoia and desperation are then directed towards me in a last ditch effort to assign blame to any other person on Earth. She cannot leave her house without a complete cache of illicit substances. Thus the mobile home she required when the entire event took place in less than one afternoon. Who knows what she had on her that day. Then, in a fit she leaves. Her last words to me were. "How could you not tell me that dogs weren't allowed here?".

By this point, it seems redundant to remind, that I spent no less than 60 minutes that day systematically explaining why dogs were not allowed and what would happen if she did in fact bring 'her pet'.

This entire deboucal happened in our first hour at the park. From that point on, it was a sincere and beautiful thing that I hope my daughter can carry within her as one of her first memories. Barring the obvious of course.