How Do You See Me?

Now that the social event of the year is over, I have time to look back and reflect. Jeff and I sat at a table with my dad and step-mom and my mom and step-dad sat at the next table over. I realized that my dad had never seen me drink anything other than soda or water. He called the next day to make sure I didn’t have a hang-over (I certainly did not, Dad, as I only had three small glasses of champagne). Still, it must have been something strange for him to witness if it prompted a phone call. Later that day, my mom called, asking “how the drunk is.” I wondered, then, if I had ever had a drink around her and it occurred to me that, other than at my own wedding, maybe I hadn’t. She wouldn’t care if I did; I would think she would be immune to that after spending so much time around my brother and his friends. My mom is a social drinker, my step-dad a really social guy when he drinks. My dad drinks never and my step-mom had a bit of alcohol at the wedding, which was weird because she never drinks either. But the subject of the blog is not alcohol or even social drinking. It is perception. I wonder how my parents see me. Do they see a 33-year-old married woman, a mother? Or am I perpetually the shy little girl with glasses who dragged along a book to every family event I ever attended? (I don’t do that anymore, but that is only because Jeff won’t let me. He insists I talk to my family instead. Meanie.) Do they see me as a quiet, independent little toddler who loved her books? A moody teen who liked to read age-inappropriate novels? On my wedding day, did my mom and dad, step-mom and step-dad see a little girl playing dress up or an adult finally feeling self-confident and assured, happy (and, strangely enough, without a book at all that day)?
I wonder how I will see Jude in the future. Will I be able to accept his adulthood or will I always see the toddler I fell in love with? The boy with the beautiful smile who sings and dances, who watches Elmo movies and, at the end, always waves at the tv and says "Bye, Bye Elmo?" Will I be able to look at a more grown up Jude and not see the boy who sits on his daddy's lap at bedtime while I read him a story? Possibly. But I don't want to ever forget this moments. Already I have a hard time remembering him as a baby, a tiny, completely helpless person. Baby moments pass so quickly. But as an infant, a toddler. I think I will always remember that. How could I forget his great independence, his daily accomplishments, the pure joy he shows for life?
On a completely different note, I saw another new movie: Brick. What is wrong with me that I can't find a new movie that I like? I was disappointed because I thought I would like it, was certain actually that I would enjoy it. I was, instead, pretty annoyed by it. My quest for a movie I will like continues. Next up: Babel. Wish me luck. Now, I must go and cover my child's face with kisses while he will still let me.