Mothers Day.
A day to celebrate the woman who sang you to sleep when you were a baby, kissed your boo-boos as a toddler, cheered you on from the sidelines as a kid, put up with all your shenanigans and petulant temper tantrums as a teen (maybe that last part was just me), and still treats you like her precious baby as an adult. A day filled with love and enjoyment. Yes, that's how it was this year. Sort of. Welcome to the twisted world of the Bad Lucky universe.
It all started out beautifully; fantastic weather, a nice leisurely breakfast, then heading out for a day on the boat. What could possibly go wrong?
We decided to spend several hours on the water so I packed snacks and drinks, including a pitcher of Pina Coladas. I even remembered paper plates, cups, and utensils. As you can undoubtedly guess, I forgot a few things.
Off we go! Spouse was driving, mom and I were chilling in the back and the dogs, Dobby and Chloe, were wandering from seat to seat looking for a place to park their hairy butts.
Pelicans were cruising mere inches from the water, looking for sea snacks and occasionally flying right past the boat. I poured everyone a Pina Colada and we toasted to a lovely day.
We had been out for about two hours when mom said she thought the water was a little too bumpy for her taste. No problem. We turned around to head back in. I sat down to make a plate for mom with some brie and French bread.
I thought to myself, 'the seat is really warm. Does John have seat warmers on this boat?'
I handed mom her plate and thought to myself again, 'of course he doesn't have seat warmers. This isn't a car. Why does it feel like my jeans are warm and wet?'
I put my hand down to push up from the seat and immediately regretted it. It was covered in slimy, chunky dog vomit. I exclaimed, not to myself, 'mother fucker!'
Now I see that my thoughts to myself and what comes out of my mouth should probably switch up. If only.
What was my next thought? 'This is why my pants are wet. It went through to my ass. I need disinfectant!' I jumped up and tore my pants off. I yelled to spouse for paper towels. No. A towel? No. Napkins? No. Water? Finally a yes. I held my hand over the side and poured water all over it. Soap? No. Of course not. I poured water on my ass, knowing I had no way to dry myself. I bent over to move my clothes and that little vomit demon, Chloe, licked my left butt cheek. Really? I now needed serious decontamination.
I spent the entire ride home bottomless, vagina and ass-crack to the wind. I had to get out of the boat that way as well. Didn't care. Spouse said he had mom so I ran into the house and jumped into the shower. I must have scrubbed my butt 30 separate times with different washcloths before I could relax.
And that is my story of Mothers Day 2021, compliments of sand, sea, and stomach bile.
The moral of this story? Leave your dogs at home, at least the one who barfs. Oh, and be prepared. I guess the Boy Scouts got something right.
,Another story of a mother's little helper, thanks to Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, sung live here by The Go Go's -
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