Find a Happy Place!

Early this morning, as I was covered with a delightful lather of Italian soap in a steaming hot shower, I reached for my razor and IT WAS NOT THERE!  Where oh where could it be, I pondered.  After spending all of two seconds scrutinizing the shower (check behind the shampoo and then the conditioner) I was struck by an outrageous thought... "No.  Not possible", I said aloud to no-one in particular.  Thinking perhaps the razor was underneath the shampoo, I reinitiated my search with a different flair but to no avail.  Rinsing off what might just have been the best lather to adorn my middle age body in years, I hesitantly stepped out of the shower and braced myself for what was most assuredly going to depress me...

There it was.  My razor. On the side of the bathtub where it so does NOT belong.  Tilting my head to one side, I quickly ran through the only three possible reasons it was there: 1.) Henk had decided to forgo his electric shaving device and purvey my very old, very French razor or 2.) Wuzzy had decided to rid himself of 50 lbs of fur before the hot summer months (I quickly realized this was not possible because he only has claws, not hands). And lastly, the thought which I was attempting to mentally block began bouncing around my head: My 12 year old daughter had decided to start shaving.

OMG!  Trying to find a happy place in my mind, I jumped back into the shower and lathered up again.  Then I just stood there reliving the past few weeks...

The Monday after Easter, my sweet little daughter came home from school with a large stuffed bunny.  As it was kind of hard to hide, I immediately felt inquisitory.  "Was there a contest at school and you won?"  No, Mom.  "Did everyone get a stuffed bunny as an Easter present from the Principal?" Really, Mom?  No.  "Oh.  Where did you get the bunny?"  Emile responded with exactly what I knew she was going to say: My boyfriend gave it to me. 

My smile faded as I realized Emile had not told me she had a boyfriend.  "What boyfriend?"  Mine, she stoically responded.  OK, time for a sit down talk. 

What is your boyfriend's name?  -  Ryan

Oh, that's a nice name.  Reminds me of Lindsey's husband. - Yes, Mom.

Silence.

Well, is he in your grade? - Yes.

That's good, because age differences can be tricky!  (Snort, giggle - Me) - Whatever.

Ok, what kind of guy is Ryan? - Dunno, Mom.

What!?? What does that mean?  You said he was your boyfriend! - Mom, puleez.

Silence.

Is Ryan in Band? - Not sure.

Does he play sports? - Mom!

What does he want to be when he grows up? - (No words, just eye daggers.)

Am I bothering you, Sweetie?  I just want to know a little about your boyfriend. - Freak.

Wow.  Well, does he... - Mom? Can you just go away, I need to text Ryan.

Oh, OK.   -

Silence. Leave the room.

So that was fun.

The following week I received a text from Ryan: Hello Mrs. Tilleman, this is Ryan, Emile's boyfriend.  I was wondering if I could take Emile to the movies this weekend. Thank U.  Ryan

End of text.  I waited what I thought was a good amount of time (25 minutes) before texting him back.

Hello Ryan. This is Emile's Mom. What movie? What time? Where?  We will need a note from your doctor, psychiatrist, dentist and 5 references (double spaced, typed) plus a blood and urine sample for disease and drug testing. And most importantly Emile's father and I must meet you and your parents before you take Emile anywhere.  Capiche?

After exchanging a few texts, it was decided that Ryan and his parents would come by to meet us on Thursday after school.  Of all times, I was called out for some STATs that afternoon at a hospital 30 miles away and didn't return until nearly 8:00 pm.  Lucky for me, everyone was still holding court.

I must say that Ryan is a lovely young man:  a good look in his twinkling eye, easy with a laugh and rather forthcoming with hearty handshakes.

Regarding their proposed "date", we parents decided that the "Hunger Games" movie was probably a bit too much for the kids and gave them the choice of a Dr. Seuss movie or nothing.  Hats off to Ryan for not even flinching!

Many handshakes later, the Ryan clan left and I retired to my bedroom to look through Emile's Babybook.

On Saturday, the kids had their "date", complete with tacos at a restaurant after the movie.  Yes, I had planned a nice dinner for when Emile returned but it appears she would prefer other company than boring ol' Mom and Dad.  Although I ate Emile's portion just to stave off my depression, it didn't work. And then I bloated.

I have been told to monitor Emile's Facebook account (Thanks, Cynthia!) to make sure there are no predators mingling in her "Friends".  And so I did.  Just before writing this. Like 5 minutes ago. Guess what?  Emile describes Saturday night as "the best night ever". 

What about all those times when we played Uno?  Weren't those fun nights? 

How about that night in Florence, after we climbed so high above the Arno and ate gelato?  And that dinner in Paris, after the Eiffel Tower? Or Indonesian food at Betty and Cees's?  Remember Pizza and movies with Nana, Grampa, Lindsey, the other Ryan and us? Pajamas and Napoleon Dynamite Night was fun, wasn't it?  Or watching Gladiator with Sagey before we went to Rome? etc...

And then Emile borrowed my razor the next day.

Turning off the water, I realized I am in denial and what a happy place that is!  Glad I found it and I will live the next few months in perfect and oblivious glee.