Today is my mother’s birthday. I love her tons but she is one weird person. If you have ever met her you know what I am talking about.
Look how normal she seems in this picture! (Let’s gloss over my pre-teen ugliness.) But she is wearing a wig (she came from the generation that wore wigs as an everyday accessory). That wig is part of a story.
Back when I was in 6th grade I decided to have a slumber party. All my friends came over and we set up our sleeping bags in the living room and proceeded to giggle for about five straight hours. We were just about to play “light as a feather, stiff as a board” when out of nowhere came some very loud music. Very loud Middle Eastern Music.
Oh no. OhNoOhNoOhNo.
She can’t be.
But she was.
Mom was smack dab in the middle of her Belly Dance phase. (Or should I say, Eirol Savid was in the middle of her Belly Dance phase. Eirol Savid–Mom’s real name backwards–was her belly dance name.) And here, right in her very own house, was a captive audience! (The woman loves an audience.) How could she possibly resist?
I don’t know whether my mom started belly dancing for fun or exercise or just because she is drawn to sexy things, but she was full-on absorbed. She had the whole get-up: the bra covered with coins, finger cymbals, scarves, metal chains and baubles hanging all over the place. And the wig. Eirol Savid does not have a frumpy, short mom-perm; that’s Lorie’s hairdo. Eirol has long lustrous curls.
But by the time a woman is forty-ish and has a frightening c-section scar or two, she has no business being seen in a chain-mail bikini. So Eirol decided to wear the entire get-up over a bright, shiny red unitard.
Eirol came whirling out into the middle of the slumber party waving her veils and scarves and chiming away with her little cymbals. She put her whole heart into her impromptu performance for the collection of open-mouthed girls in their Hollie Hobbie pajamas.
At least I think that’s what happened.
I spent the next half hour curled up in the fetal position deep in my sleeping bag wishing my real parents would come and get me.
Never a dull moment with my mother. And whether that’s a good thing or not depends on if you are her child.
But we all love you Mom! Have a great birthday!