Mother’s Day from Hell

Ahhh Mother’s Day…A time to revel in the wondertude that is your mom. A time for moms to open their cards and wonder what happened to the shamrock green pumps I sent my kid the link for last week? So anyway…

My dad used to always take us to the fancy shmancy brunch at the Fort Worth Club when we were kids for Mother’s Day. It was awesome, because after you had consumed the required amounts of actual food, you were released to the dessert table which over flowed with enumerable sugar filled goodies. And, along with Easter, it was one of the few times of the year our sugar intake was not policed. The key, you see, is to grab the main course plate before you start to the dessert table so you can overload it with goodies. Dessert plates are notoriously small.

Well, frankly, we hadn’t been there in years. So this year my Dad says he is taking everyone (a group of 14) to the Fort Worth Club for brunch- his treat! Wow, so wonderful. My mother and sisters in law were so excited. I was too- did I mention the dessert table. Well, let’s just say things did not go as planned.

Friday I get the call from my dermatologist that the mole I had removed was in fact squamos cancer and they are going to have to take a 5mm chunk out of my chest. Not a huge deal, just disappointing since Shawna and I are sun screen NAZIS- we actually carry and reapply and wear hats and everything. The Doctor did say it probably had less to do with all the IM training and more to do with the days I spent with baby oil tanning as a teenager. Um, yep, I did that- pasty white skin and red hair and all. But when you are a teen ager you are immortal, aren’t you? Stupid age.

Needless to say I wasn’t in the greatest of moods as I waited for my two closest doctor friends to call me and tell me that I wasn’t going to have a giant divit in my chest.

Then as we are gettting ready to go to the club, my mother in law calls. My sister in law JoAnn has fallen at church and the other sister in law is taking her to the emergency room with two broken arms (one a compound fracture) and a broken foot. As I type this she is readying for surgery this morning. That JoAnn will do anything to ruin my Mother’s Day. Really, as things turned out, she didn’t have to bother.

Flash forward to the table at the Fancy Fort Worth Club. It’s very nice and swanky. We order Mimosas and Bloody Marys. Well, the waitress pours a tray of Mimosas on Claire and me. I mean my PANTIES were soaked. She is mortified, of course. And says, “I’m not going to charge you for those drinks!” Really? You aren’t going to charge me for the drinks you poured down my back. Thanks.

But I shake that off and head to the buffet. I will say the food has improved substantially. And we all do our best to eat a sufficient amount to make the outrageous prices worth it for Dad. And then this happens…

Our friend Peter, who along with Shawna, has joined us for Mother’s Day, finds a latex glove finger in his ham. No really, the finger from the glove is tucked into his ham. I gagged and told the waitress, who is again mortified and goes to get the assistant manager.

Well, I’ve seen this bit before. My dad is not pleased, as you can well imagine. But he is very nice to her. She then offers to comp one meal. ONE MEAL!!!!!! Poor little thing, she is almost crying. The gutless manager has sent her in to take the heat.

Naturally, Dad asks to speak to the manager. Well, the manager and the assistant manager stand at the doorway and whisper for about twenty minutes-where we can see you. Mind you, he NEVER COMES TO THE TABLE.

Instead, the send the waitress over with the next offer. They will comp two meals and all the drinks. Is this a mediation I was unaware of.

So I look at Dad and say, “You are going to have to play the Mayor/Senator card.” I mean clearly that asshole thinks we have shoved a rubber glove into the ham to try and get a free meal, right?

So we look up the current executive director, who Dad knows- having been a 45 year member- and he decides he will just call the guy the next day.

But before we can leave, the manager approaches Dad on his way to the bathroom, Dad plays the old former mayor/state senator who’s gonna call the damn executive director- card and MIRACULOUSLY- they comp the whole meal-including the drinks on my dress.

What a freaking nightmare!!!!!

Anyway, I ended the night with take out from the Original and the Snapped Marathon on Oxygen channel, so all was not lost. But the Vickie left, so that sucked.

Hope you guys had a better day! I’ll post nasty mole removal pictures soon. WEAR SUNSCREEN my fellow triathletes. 🙂


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