Friday, May 22, 2009

we'll always have fried rice

Alex is a wonder boy.

I love watching him as he searches the crowd looking for me and Dave then gives a wink and thumbs up when he finally spots us in the sea of faces and cameras. I love watching him sing his heart out trying to keep up his hand motions to match the teacher's.

Except I dread nights like tonight. Preschool end of year program with a pot luck thrown in at the end. It means two hours of uncomfortable silence with the Egg Donor sitting across the table from me. It means I have to try to keep Alex at just the right distance. I can't give him attention or we will end up with a fight over how much time he spends here. I can't keep him at a distance either. I would break his heart and the ED would be angry at the way I treat him.

Really, I can't win.

The whole situation is pretty uncomfortable but Alex handles it like a champ. He doesn't stop calling me Mom and he doesn't treat me any differently. He still wanted me to help him fill up his plate and when he was done he ran around the table, pulled on my arm and wanted to show me the fastest way to the dessert table. Anytime I got up he got up too and wrapped one arm around my leg and walked with me.

I finally felt like I didn't have to make an effort to make any kind of conversation.

I had my own little private joke throughout most of the meal. She did a lot of sampling and took a little of just about everything that was laid out. Most dishes she picked at, took a little bite then shoved it to the other side of her plate.

Mine? She ate everything she took. Chicken fried rice. Its all in the ginger baby.

I didn't get any kind of chef-tastic ego trip off of it. I know I'm pretty good. What I got was to sit there and have a little sing song in my head... "You ate my fooo-oood. If you knew it was mine you wouldn't have touched it."

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