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I love this woman.
So we are sitting at Outback Steak House because my Chevy factory worker man's man of a step-father loves the Melbourne 22oz steak there and it is in walking distance. We had to wait an hour because we forgot it was a Friday night and no one made reservations. That's okay, though, because we were able to talk a lot and isn't that really why you go to dinner with people?
As we are waiting for our food and my mom professes to be on the verge of passing out, we do what my family does best and surround actual conversation with what we presume to call witty banter. Jen is explaining how she is getting her PhD.,teaching high school, teaching a college class, and doing a research lab and taking another class on Saturdays.
My mom looks her dead in the eye and says "Stress isn't good for you. I know. You don't want to end up a loon like me". Then she proceeds to cackle in that loving way that only moms, wives, and witches can pull off.
As if that weren't enough...
I say something to Jen, that is both hilarious and getting me in trouble. So I try to hug her and she pulls away, and my mom says we look like Pepé Le Pew and his not-so-lover cat. This only eggs me on to act like a fifth grader and I say something else that makes Jen literally grab a fork and hold it over my manhood until I apologize. Did I say I love her too? If you read this..I really do...now please...put down the fork.
I think its over, and we can enjoy our meal, but then my mom starts speaking like a Lady Lord of England as she eats her steak, which prompts me to hold my pinky finger straight out as a I sip my Diet Coke. Jen and my step-dad, Dennis, look at their plates. After all, he married into this mess. I can only imagine the twinge of regret as waiters and waitresses walk by with the prolonged sideways stare that almost sends a stack of plates flying. I mention to the butler, Mortimer, that "my date doesn't understand us."
My mom says in her haughty Lady voice, proceeded by a scoff, "Well Dear, I knew the moment that you took with a common.."
The look on Jen's face was priceless and, man, I was glad she laughed rather than inched her hand towards the fork.
As dinner wraps up my mom starts singing a song that she and I made up when I was about eight, and the shock of having a schizophrenic mother was still new to me. I was only a little guy back then and though I knew she was sick when my Dad had to come and get me and my brothers, I really didn't understand what was wrong.
But I'll never forget the song she made up because we would sing it in a duet to an old Patty Duke song. It goes something like this, "We're adorable/ We're lovable/ We're two of a kind/ We're/ Schitzoooooprenic/ We're/ Schitzooooophrenic/ We're two of a kind!"
Of course, my mom is the only one who is schizo, but for the purposes of the song I lend a voice to her alter ego...
We then paid the bill, walked home and said our goodbyes. And that ladies and gentlemen, is dining Denmon style.
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