A Mother to Embarrass Me by Carol Lynch Williams

person with a scream.” I started back toward my own room, scooping up my sheet as I went, but Mom called out to me.
    “Laurie, aren't you even a little bit happy for me?”
    I turned to face my mother, whose blond hair was messy from a night's sleep. There were dark circles under her eyes. The phone was still in her hand, the one that usually had her wedding band on the third finger. The ring was gone. Mom was too swollen to wear it.
    My heart went mushy. “I am happy for you,” I said. “Really happy.”
    And I was. But I still had one more thing to add to my list.
    I might not be ready to deliver a baby, but my list-writing skills were as strong as ever.
    things to change about M Y MOTH ER!!!!!!!
28. her screaming like she is in trouble when really she is happy

From her bed Mom directed the planning of the charity football game party. We had only three days to get ready, which, Mom said, was just enough time to do it right.
    She made all the calls, to the caterer, the flower people and a cleaning crew even though the house looked fine. She had Dad and me go to Dillard's and get new bath towels for the guest room near our basement theater. Then she and I wrote out a seventy-five-person guest list, hand addressing each envelope.
    “I want all my friends to be here for my television debut,” Mom said. “After all, it's been fifteen years.” She gave a little laugh, propped up in bed, her hair pulled back into a ponytail.
    My guts were doing a tap dance. Mom had convinced me that the only hand towel in thecommercial was one that had been slung over her shoulder. Still, I worried.
    “I have on a tasteful Rocky Mountain Fitness Center workout suit,” she said when she asked me to deliver my share of the invitations. “I hope all your friends can come. It'll be fun.”
    “You're supposed to be in bed all the time,” I said, picking at the lightweight peach-colored blanket that covered her knees. “That's why it's called bed rest.”
    “I will be. The whole time, right up until the bell rings and the first people start arriving. Then I'll hurry down to my La-Z-Boy recliner and prop my feet up.”
    “Okay,” I said. “ 'Cause you know what the doctor said. And Daddy.”
    Mom smiled at me and reached for my hand. She gave it a little squeeze. “I love you, Laurie,” she said.
    I smiled at her.
    “Now, I'm going to need decorations. Do you think you and Mary could take care of that? You can surprise me.”
    That sounded fun. “Okay,” I said. “Since you promised to stay in bed.”
    I made Dad do a little promising too.
    “No eighties clothes,” I said.
    “Check,” Dad said.
    “No dancing.”
    “Check,” Dad said.
    “No spinning on your head, no patting Mom's belly, no country-and-western singing, no cowboy boots, no mousse in your hair, no computer talk,
nothing
embarrassing.”
    Dad stared at me hard. Then he saluted. “Check,” he said.
    “And no saying ‘check,’ ” I said. “Ever again.”
    Dad tilted his head, opened his mouth then closed it, and after a moment gave a slight nod. “Ten-four, good buddy. I'll see what I can do.”
    I just rolled my eyes.
    Mary and I spent hours running streamers everywhere, placing flowers around the room and putting up old photos of Mom BM (before marriage). We got lots of balloons filled with helium and let them go so the ceiling was covered in plenty of color just in case someone looked up. We filled three coolers with ice and stuck cans of soda in to get cold. The room looked great.
    “I am so excited,” Mary said.
    “Me too,” I said. And I was. Nervous about the commercial, but excited about what would be happening here. About seeing Quinn right here in my very own house.
    Mary clapped her hands. “All the guys are going to be here from your boy-girl party, right?”
    “Right,” I said. “And remember, we don't talk about
the
night. Ever.”
    “Aye, aye, Cap-ee-ton,” Mary said.
    “Sheesh,” I said. “Have you been talking to my