I often generalize my mom’s mom and describe her as a gypsy. Not because she resembles those wild women on the TLC series but because she reads tarot cards, drafts star charts and would always judge the compatibility of my relationships based on the zodiac. Astrologer would probably be a better fit but I once saw her clad in a moon print dress and head scarf as she ventured off to work a booth at a Renaissance Fair or something of that nature so the term gypsy seemed appropriate.
Because of this my family has always loosely applied the laws of the zodiac when attempting to rationalize a person's behavior and more obnoxiously in trying to acquire me an appropriate suitor. I would love to say I approached astrology as comical sorcery but I read my horoscope regularly and usually make it a point to find out a person’s date of birth so that I can judge their character before we even exchange pleasantries.
So when my gynecologist predicted an early February due date for my son I was elated; it was certain he’d be an aquarius even if he opted for an early appearance or decided to show up to the party fashionably late. His lively curiosity, strong imagination and borderline insensitivity would pair perfectly with the voracious appetite for knowledge, quick-wit and emotional detachment I inherited as a Gemini. We would get along smashingly, like two drunk girls in line for the bathroom at a bar.
The spirited imagination often displayed by Aquarians has definitely manifested itself in Rinn and has fueled many of my blog posts regarding motherhood. if it wasn’t for him running around wearing safety goggles and wielding a screwdriver while yelling “I’m Sir Prince Fix-A-Lot” my blog might be a little less laughable.
Recently he was jumping around the living room half-blinded by a mask with a cape waving enthusiastically in his shadow and without even a prompt shouted “I’m a superhero!”
“Very cool Rinn”
“Mom, what kind of superhero would you be?”
Considering he seems to have a better grasp on the varieties of superheroes and their attributes I suggested he decide for me.
“I don’t know, what kind of superhero do you think I should be?”
He must’ve thought that determining my superhero-ness was an assignment of great importance because he paused briefly, I assume to ponder all of the options. Would I be Supermom because I’ve never lost him in a department store and I let him have macaroni and cheese for breakfast? Would I have the power of flight considering his adoration for my aerial performance? Would he do me the honor of electing me leader of all superheroes? The possibilities were endless but my daydream was loudly interrupted when he shouted in my face.
“A Bubble Hero!”
“A Bubble Hero?” I questioned. You can imagine my dismay.
“Well, what’s my superpower?” He had just named me a hero whose qualities were flimsy and weak and had a insanely short lifespan, certainly he would compensate for this oversight and give me one hell of a power. I had never been more wrong.
“A BUBBLE HERO BECAUSE YOU BLOW EVERYONE!” he declared at maximum volume.
Just as a disclaimer I have zero intentions of fulfilling my duties as Bubble Hero and have no qualms about relinquishing this title to someone more suitable so I'm now accepting applications. Loose morals preferred.