The other day was daughter’s 15th birthday.
Can you believe it? I myself cannot.
Suddenly 15 seems so much older than 14.
It is 7pm and we are planning on a dinner at La Villa. Daughter loves LaVilla. Since it is her birthday she gets to choose the restaurant. Son is coming even though he hates La Villa.
Really, as a milk protein allergic person the place is filled with cheesy poison for him. But he is son, so he says nothing and plans to come along.
7:30 rolls around and we are waiting for Philadelphia to arrive. He is late. I start to feel annoyed and think about chewing on resentment but then I let it go.
You know what they say about resentment: It is like taking a poison and expecting someone else to die.
Yeah.
So he gets here. We plop his stuff down and head out around 8:30.
“I bet it is going to be crowded in there.” I say.
La Villa is always crowded on Friday nights. Well, really most every night. It’s just that kind of place.
We walk in and there stands a gaggle of hungry Brooklyn people. I decide to hover around Hostess to make myself known. Sometimes this works.
I flash Hostess my best Brooklyn smile. “How long will it be?” I ask. Then I add, “It is my daughter’s birthday. She is 15.”
Hostess smiles back. “30 minutes.” she says.
GOD! 30 minutes! 30 minutes seems like an eternity. I turn and I add, “Ok. We’ll be over there.” And I point to the front of the restaurant where there is a teeny-tiny little space.
We stand. Then we sit. We look at the menus. Philadelphia says, “Don’t look at the menu. You have to wait until we sit down.”
“Really?” I say.
I did not know this rule. I put down the menu.
After awhile, son says, “I think you should go back over there an exert your influence.”
!!!!!!!!!!!
Mild-mannered son not so mild mannered! “Ok.” I say. And I walk over.
“Just checking…how long now?” I say.
“You are 5th on the list.” she says.
“Oh.” I say. “It would be great if they put bread out.”
Hostess says, “Would you like me to get you some bread?”
“Why yes!” I say. “That would be lovely!”
; )
Hostess brings back the bread.
I the bread over to the son, the daughter and Philadelphia. We eat. Sadly, because of his food allergies son cannot partake.
“Do you want me to get something else for you?”
“No mom.” he says. “It’s ok. I am used to it. This is my life.”
I have a little sad moment about this. But then I let it go. Son is right. And I need to focus on daughter.
I walk back over to Hostess. “Ok.” she says. “They are cleaning the table.”
I trot back over to the group and tell them. “Let’s go!”
We look at the menu. We decide.
Waiter comes over. “We are ready.” I say.
I order for everyone. Ravioli for me. Ravioli for daughter. Pasta Fagioli for Philadelphia. Straight pasta for son.
More bread comes. Daughter is chowing. Daughter loves this bread.
I smile. I am happy she is getting to eat at the restaurant of her choice.
The food comes. Both of the teenagers outpace us and finish in 8 minutes flat. I look at Philly. “They are done.” I say.
“Yep.” he says.
When Waiter comes back I tell him, ‘It’s daughter’s birthday!”
“Oh!” he says.
He knows what I mean.
Heh.
Daughter looks at me and says, “Mom! I can’t believe you did that.”
But she smiles a little.
Because after all it is her birthday.
Daughter and son start doing brother and sister picky-pokey joking. We sit and wait for the embarrassing moment. Soon I see Waiter come out form the kitchen with a delicious slice of mud pie with a candle sticking out of it.
Inside I think: WOO! Singing time!
Waiter puts the cake down in front of daughter and we all sing. I look at her sitting there; blushing, and I think she looks so grown-up.
Everyone says it will go fast. When they are babies and toddlers it seems like it will never end: The nursing, the sleep deprivation, the complete loss of one’s time. Every day seems like a million years.
But then suddenly, it is gone. They are sitting in front of you, blowing out a 15-year-old candle, blushing and laughing and telling grown up jokes with their brother.
We sing.
“Make a wish!’ I say.
Daughter hesitates a minute and blows out the candle.
When I look at her I can see the 20-year-old woman she will become.
I know it is just around the corner.
Summerhead 