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Because Its Not Really A ‘Party’ Unless The Paramedics Arrive.

My mother’s 60th birthday party was nothing short of fantastic. (From what little I can remember.) My brother Lee, his wife Maya, and their two adorable children Jackson & Zaibryn showed up first. I was so excited to see them. Since they live over three hours away, I don’t get to visit with them as often as I’d like to. I can’t believe how big Jackson and Zaibryn are getting.

Lee, Maya and I sat down to enjoy a lovely breakfast my father had diligently prepared. In typical moronic fashion, I decided to take a gamble and partake in the in the festivities by eating something new. After all, I had ingested more pills than a ‘drug mule’ can carry, as preventative measures for this sort of occasion. What’s the worst that could happen?

After breakfast Jackson and Zaibryn went down for a nap. I was sitting at the dining room table pleasantly chatting with my family, when I felt the onset of the all too familiar itchy eyelids and lava earlobes set in. With impending doom hanging in the air, I quietly excused myself from the table, went to my bedroom, and took yet another Allergra.

Moments later, I rejoined my family and tried to participate in the conversation. Except that I could not speak. [On any other day, under any other circumstance, I am positive; not being able to talk would be cause for celebration for those around me.] My voice started cracking like a pubescent teenage boy. It was raspy, hoarse and sounded much like I imagine Lindsay Lohan would sound after a rough night. I tried clearing my throat and talking again but, I could barley make out a whisper. And that’s when the hives appeared. Great. I was having a full-blown allergic reaction.

This time, was the first, and only time, my throat ever started to close and my breathing became extremely shallow.

I hauled ass upstairs, swallowed an overdose of Benadryl, and made it into the bathroom before my stomach unwillingly exploded. Since I couldn’t talk, much less yell for help, I had to throw things against the bathroom wall in an attempt to get my son’s attention in the adjacent bedroom.

JCH came into the bathroom with a what-the-fuck-do-you-want-from-me typical teenager expression plastered on his face. After he took one look at me he changed his expression to holy-shit-my-mom-looks-jacked, and quickly ran to get my mother. As soon as my mom saw me, she dialed 911.

The police and paramedics arrived on the scene in no time at all. They immediately started asking questions and dispensing medical equipment. These highly trained professionals looked like they had just graduated from Junior High School. Seriously, my 12 year old son has more facial hair than these threecombined.

Speaking of my son, I must have taught him well, because while I was having a ‘near death experience’, he instinctively went for my camera and started snapping photos. “This is totally blog material.” He said after the Police Officer asked why in the world anyone would be taking pictures at a time like this.

Speaking of the Police Officer he was incredibly good looking. Which was not particularly useful. That only made having my pants pulled down, wrapped around my ankles, with nothing but a wet towel covering my lower body, and an oxygen mask strapped to my face, all the more embarrassing.

Meanwhile, my sister in law Maya had taken notice that ‘Super Hot Police Officer’ was not wearing a wedding ring. And then she busied herself trying to figure out a way to “score” me a date with the guy. Right. Because I was just beaming with “self-confidence” as my mother sang the alphabet to me while I was sitting on the toilet bowl.

Somehow I couldn’t use that moment of my life as an opportunity for a potential date. That’s not exactly what I would consider good timing to implement the usage of pick up line like, “Hey, ‘Super Hot Police Officer’? What’s a girl gotta do to get your phone number?”

In the midst of all that mayhem, my brother Adam, his wife Traci and their son MDW pulled into our complex. Mortified by the presence of a hospital gurney outside of our front door, I can only imagine what these two must have felt and/or thought.

Fortunately, after what seemed like forever times infinity, my breathing returned to normal and the shrill of my voice returned to its usual decibel.

Once all the commotion ceased, the rest of the day went perfectly wonderful. At least I think so? Benadryl normally gives me a nice case of narcolepsy, but, apparently when combined with an excessive amount of coffee and sugar, and xanax; I went into some sort of ‘zenn-adryl’ state of mind – which enabled me to function, but clouded most of my short term memory for the rest of the day.

I know that my father cooked and served: Strawberry Soup, Homemade Cesar Salad, Lemon Chicken, Grilled Corn On The Cob in Mint Lime Butter, Broccoli Rabe, and Steamed Garlic Spinach, with a bottle of 1984 Vintage Library Pinot Noir from Hanzel.

I remember Maya utterly fascinated by the ‘Baby Bible’ my brother Adam and Traci keep for their son. They keep track of everything. It’s kind of like a handwritten mini baby blog. To quote from the bible: “Tonight MDW found his man parts, and then he squeezed it so hard he started to cry.” Which is good to know. You want to keep track of the really important moments like that.

I also remember Maya explaining to me why she wraps Zaibryn (with her bad hair, no teeth, and cankles) so tightly in a blanket to stop her from rolling over, because from where I was sitting it looked to me as if her daughter was held hostage in a Straight Jacket.

After dinner and birthday cake, and after attempting to come up with some new descriptive adjectives for baby poop, we embarked upon our Family Photo Shoot.

My father spared no cost by having this ‘Photo Shoot’ taken in our own back yard, in the rain, by our next-door neighbor, really professional like.


All in all, I am sure this was a very memorable birthday for my mother. She was able to spend time with all of her children and grandchildren, which is exactly what she wanted.

I am just trying to clear my foggy brain which is still coated in ‘zenn-adryl’ resin.

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