Day 133: Have Your Boyfriend Meet Your Momma.

Nothing is more stressful than meeting the parents of your new significant other. I had somewhat passed the first meeting with Sébastien's parents last week but there's always room to change their opinion down the line. Never get too comfy with the family, you'll never be 100% 'in'. So, let's just say I passed part 1. Like everyone else on this green earth, he has heard so much about my mom that he was very much anticipating on meeting her. Unfortunately for Séb, he didn't get the one week heads up that I did before I met his parents and my mom showed up at my door in Paris at 8am while we were less than dressed in bed. For those of you just jumping in, my mother is a flight attendant and gets sent to Paris at the last minute where I am "delighted" with her unexpected presence.
"She's coming now? She's here?" he asked in a panic while putting his thick rimmed glasses her wears before putting his contacts in. "Yes, here! Get up!" I said and smacked his behind for emphasis on the urgency of the situation. I cracked open my door where I could hear my mother breathlessly huffing up the stairs. "Why isn't there an elevata?" she could be heard asking herself. "What's wrong with this place? After a long flight, I have to walk up 6 flights of spiral stairs. Utterly ridiculous." My mom has been to Paris a million times and knows that an elevator in a building is a special feature and most buildings don't guarantee one. "I can hear you, Mom!" I shouted out to the empty hallway. "Good!!" her voice echoed up the stairs.
I greeted her at the door without a stitch of makeup revealing my ghost white skin and my hair half up with frizzy curls framing my face. "You look like Howie Mandell," she said as she pushed her way past me and going straight to the bathroom, "And it smells like sex in here." Mom! "No, it doesn't," I said defensively as I securely closed the bathroom door behind her, "You're a liar." It's true, it really didn't. A bit stuffy? Yes, but it certainly did not smell like fits of passion. Sébastien who understands English perfectly well, looked terrified and rushed over to open the window before making coffee for the three of us.
As refreshed as she could be after working a 7 hour flight, my mom emerged from the bathroom smelling like my Marc Jacobs Biscotti body splash mixed with Lily of the Valley hand cream. She extended her hand out to Séb and introduced herself. "Bonjooooooour! I'm Madame Coquine." she said with her hand extended. Séb who is not naturally accustomed to handshakes and was slightly leaning in for a kiss prompted my mom to accuse him of thinking she didn't wash her hands after her bathroom trip. "What? They're clean!" she snapped at him. "I know, Madame. I'm sorry." he responded nervously and extended his hand to shake it. "Don't apologize, she's being a pain." I assured him as I set the table.
I gestured for us all to sit for breakfast in the west wing of my apartment which is located a scenic 2 inches away from where were standing. We sat cramped at my tiny kitchen table, eating packaged Belle France pain au chocolat and drinking our coffee in bowls. (No, I'm not trying to be all French, my mugs also went missing during the sublet scandal of 2011. I swear, she probably tossed them out because she didn't feel like washing them. Connasse.) Sébastien starting rolling a cigarette and tried to spark up conversation with my mom who interrupted him zeroing her eyes in on his cigarette. "What are you, smokin' a joint ova there?" she asked. "No, Madame," Sebastien said in his extremely thick accent, "It is a cigarette. Would you want to try some?" he offered knowing that my mom smokes (editor's note: and should quit!!). "No, I have my own. Thank you." she said while holding up his little baggie of filters. "So, do we look alike?" she asked Sebastien while pressing her cheek up against mind and staring back at him with wide eyes. "Well I hope I don't look like that, when you make that ugly face!" I pulled back. "Yes, very much. I would say so. Not with the face, like Ella said but when you are normal, yes." Sebastien didn't know what the hell to say. My mom and I are like a tornado and it's hard to keep up. He was smart to stay quiet. 
"Oh!" my mom said abruptly breaking the silence, "I have some things for you." She went to the door to fetch her bag and pulled out 5 jiffy shipping bags clearly from 5 different locations. I had placed a used book order with Amazon and had them shipped to her house in order to avoid paying the international shipping and they had all arrived last week. Like Christmas morning, I ripped them all open in excitement. I love getting book deliveries! It's like when the book club books came in 3rd grade, pure bliss! "Almost French" by Sarah Turnbull, "The Heart of Love" by Dr. John Demartini, "Little Birds" by Anais Nin, An autobiography of Serge Gainsbourg and "Cool Baby Names" by wait, what? Cool Baby Names? I did not order this. Because it was used there was no packing slip and according to the back, I had paid 75 cents (plus 5 dollars for shipping) for it, so disputing it would be useless. Sebastien looked over, read the title and and his eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of his skull. It was awful. "I swear I didn't order this!" I pleaded. With a lit cigarette in her hand, my mom said "Is there something you want to tell us?" No really, I didn't order this! I have no idea what was supposed to be in place of this. I must have clicked around too fast but I certainly didn't order this. Besides, I already have my baby names picked out therefor I don't need a book called Cool Baby Names.