Adoption

My mother was standing on the front porch awaiting my arrival with the new member of the family.  Her animated gestures were enough to know she had cooked and cleaned for me and prepared for sweet little Trip. 

My drive was long but not too difficult. Trip slept all the way, and I was most grateful for the quietude. I was accustomed to quietude save for my mother when she came to visit. Her visitations always turned into unsolicited advice or laments about my decision to stay single. She wanted grandchildren and time was running out for me. I am now fifty-four, but she still thinks of me as a twenty-year-old college student with this great future of husband and family before me. 

 She refuses to accept that she was a great inspiration in my decision not to marry. By the time I was seventeen years old, my mother had been courted thirty times and married four. None of them were my idea of what a great relationship should be. I grew up watching Father Knows Best and no one my mother chose could fill Jim Anderson’s shoes, not even my biological father.  

At this point in my life, my career had allowed me the opportunity to work from home. I felt it was time to let love and affection enter my life, for I knew I could devote more time to being a doting mom. If there was one thing my mother was right about, it was that I would soon realize solitude, especially in my big house, would grow old. I would soon yearn for companionship or the desire to nurture.  

Fortunately, the adoption was smooth sailing. Trip was only three months old, and he and I made an immediate bond. His beautiful green eyes and pug-nose melted my heart. I could tell he was going to be a killer redhead, though those cute wispy tufts of hair were gold.  

As I was carefully retrieving this sweet boy, my mother came running up behind me. Loud and exuberant, I was afraid she would startle him. I had no sooner got him out of his swaddling safety contraption than my mother grabbed and shook him awake. Holding him up like a rag doll while swaying him to and fro,  his eyes grew big.  

‘Oh Gabby! He’s so adorable! It’s hard to believe he is only three months old. Now you just let me take him and get him settled. You must be starving. I made your favorite tuna casserole.” 

“Tuna, Mom, really?” 

“Gabby, I know tuna is your weakness. I am sure this little tiger will grow up with the same love for fish.” 

“Yes, no doubt in my mind. By the way, thank you. Why don’t you join me?” 

“Oh no, I’ve had my fill. I will just take Trip and introduce him to his things.” 

“Things, Mom? What things does a three-month-old have that you must show him?” 

“Toys! Believe me, you will get a lot done without interruption if he has plenty of toys. Plenty of chewy things for those new teeth.” 

“No, Mom. Bring Trip with you and come sit with me. It's time to visit awhile, for I know you will be leaving soon.” At least that was my hope, and I believed my subliminal suggestion would register with her.  

“Gabby, certainly not!” 

“Certainly not, what?” I loved my mom dearly, but all I wanted to do was cuddle with Trip, chill, and watch a Noir favorite movie of mine like ‘This Gun for Hire’ or “The Third Man’.  

“I will not be a part of teaching Trip bad habits. Before you know it, he will be interrupting your dinners even though you have already fed him. Then before you know it, he will become demanding and try to climb everywhere! When you started walking, you climbed upon my table where I had just put my freshly baked cake for the cake walk. What did you do?! You dug your hands in it and threw it everywhere. I was fit to be tied. Best you start setting perimeters now when he is young.” 

“Okay, mom. I see your point.” 

 I found it was best to not challenge her at this point, for it would just cause her to stay longer.  She loved giving all kinds of advice on every subject under the sun. Her favorite thing was to make advice, which she’d frequently give to me and her friends, relatable to my childhood and her impeccable mothering. 

“Well, I have got Trip settled for the night. He is adorable. Do not expect to get any sleep. From this point forward, your life has changed, and it is no longer about you. Goodness, you are fifty-four years old, and I still do not get any sleep! I’ve got to get back home. I have a date.” 

“Well Mom, thank you for everything and you have fun. I will talk to you tomorrow.” 

“Yes, we will talk tomorrow, and I will tell you all about Mr. Wright. By the way, what are you doing tomorrow besides working and getting used to a new life?” 

“Well, I have been asked to go on an evening boat cruise by the neighbors. I think I will go. It will be great to relax.” 

“Well, I hope you are not thinking of taking Trip with you. “ 

“No, Mom, certainly not!” 

“Well, what are you going to do with him.” 

“Well, I haven’t thought that far. I am sure if he keeps me up all night, he will sleep all day. I will just put him in his playpen. He’s too little to crawl out.” 

“Honey, he’s way too little to be left alone. He’s just a baby. I will come over.” 

“Mom! You are taking this way too far. He will be fine. After all, Trip is just a cat.”