There is nothing sadder than realizing that you have gone from the woman your son declared, when he was four, the only woman he wanted to marry, to a seat holder for his social life.  I am now like the sad little unknowns that fill the seats at the Oscars while the famous, popular people get a drink or pee.

With that said, imagine my glee last week when Michael came home after the Homecoming fashion show and said “Hey, wanna go out to dinner with me?”.  I was stunned. I thought he would go to out with all his fashion show buddies.

“Sure, I would love to !!” I replied just a little to eagerly I am afraid.

The exciting dinner I had just prepared was a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats topped with cherries. I had recently needed dried cherries for a recipe and had almost needed CPR when I found out they were $8.99 per pound.  Don’t we live in like the cherry capitol of the world? Needless to say I was going to utilize these cherries at every meal until there were gone.  Scooping them out onto a paper towel seems to be my best option.

I started scooping and Michael rolled his eyes.  “Let’s just go. Oh my God I can’t believe you are scooping the fruit off.”

” You can’t believe it because you didn’t shell out $8.99 for them.” I said.

Just as I poured my cereal down the disposal I heard Micheal’s phone go off.  I turned to find him with a sheepish look on his face.  “Hey all the kids from the show are going to Leo’s.  Can you drop me off?” We can go to dinner tomorrow night.”  He said this as he was walking toward to back door.

I had been ditched.  My poor pitiful Honey Bunches of Oats dinner wasn’t even in the sewer system yet and I had all ready been dumped. The seat fillers at least get to get dressed up and go to the Oscars.  I was now just a limo driver getting them there and not even able to go in.

After the drop off I poured another bowl of cereal and settled into my seat.  The backseat that is. As I chewed my expensive cherries rescued from the paper towel I longed for those chubby little arms around my neck and that sweet little voice telling me he was going to marry me one day.

It reminded me of Erma Bombeck’s book If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What Am I Doing in the Pitts?  Except I had the bowl of cherries and it was the pits.