Mama's Day.

by Serge Bielanko


Remember when you were pregnant and throwing up all the time and you threw up that blue Slurpee in the car? I cleaned that up that hot summer afternoon because I love you a lot. And we both didn't want the car to stink. And remember when my Mom was visiting and we were going out to Antelope Island to show her the buffalo and we stopped for Slim Jims at the Seven-Eleven and you threw up in a bag right out front? I loved you so much right then. Morning sick like a mofo and going to see wild buffalo with your mother-in-law in the sweltering sun. What can I say?

Oh and remember that sunny spring morning when Max got attacked by that Pit Bull on the street in Brooklyn and I started stomping its head and punching it in the face to get it off? That was love for you and Max right there, babe. Big Up Protection. Love. And then when we had to bring Max home from the hospital with one of his legs bound to his chest with tons of tape and we wanted to cry so bad. But instead we just ripped off the damn tape and all three of us hung out in the living room and we knew he appreciated what we'd done? What a night, huh? That was some family shit right there, I'll tell you that much.

Then when we were leaving NYC forever and we just stood there on the shiny wood floors of our empty apartment and just felt so blue and weird and then we locked up and climbed in that giant moving truck and just drove away. That was us forming bonds, baby. Making love. Out of nothing at all.

Oh many memories, so many talks, so many plans and bills and Seinfelds and Jager shots and backseat driving. So much dog hair. So many arguments and then so much letting shit go. Oceans of pushing and pulling. Mini lifetimes of just waiting for stuff to happen.

And then? This past winter you give me this little baby...our Violet. You were so sick all those long months when she was cooking in there! But dude, you were Bionic. Just real real strong. You had to be and you were. Then came that foggy morning in January. The best day of our lives,huh? To the first little cries she ever made on Earth, we finally held our baby girl in our shaking arms.

And oh my how we love her. I can't even start.

It all sounds so damn hokey. You hate that kind of stuff. I know all that. But it's all true anyway and you know it and I know it and you know it feels so seriously good when she cracks one of those sensational burps down in your arms. And when we listen to her sucking on her binky, the two of us grinning and silent and staring at the baby monitor. Batshit Crazy People. But pretty happy ones.

Happy Mama's Day, M. You are the wind beneath our wings!

s & v