Mother of the Year

Among the things I worry about--and there's a long list, as anyone who knows me will attest--is the fear that I have already or might still somehow damage my only child through bad parenting. This is not based on anything concrete, since at age 24 he is wonderful and I would not change one thing about him. Okay, maybe one thing--but nothing big. Okay, one or two big things--not really, I am just joshing. Okay, I'm not really joshing but anyway, I often wonder if somehow I inadvertently, or even advertently, contributed to whatever phobias or failings he may secretly harbor or may yet develop. After all, it's always the mother's fault, right? (Which is why, when my son was born, I got rid of all my see-through nighties, push-up bras, crotchless panties, sequined body suits and lace teddies. Naturally my husband balked, but I was adamant that our child's welfare came before his sick and twisted needs.)

Apparently not every mother is saddled with these concerns, as this very recent photo of the famous entertainer Cher illustrates. Here she is, posing for the paparazzi at last year's Video Music Awards ceremony, where she presented an award to Lady Gaga, who was dressed all in meat; I guess you've got to try harder when your competition wears strips of bacon and slabs of beef.

Anyway, Cher is exactly my age, which is old enough to get Medicare, which she damn well needs since she undergoes a plastic surgery procedure about once a month. Her daughter, the former Chastity Bono, is now quite publicly a male called Chaz, albeit without the requisite plumbing but with everything else necessary to warrant a female partner on "Dancing With the Stars."

I can't help but wonder, as I have before and no doubt will continue to do in the future, if Cher's questionable mothering practices played a part in her child's decision to change gender.  I'm not so sure I could accept a similar decision from my child, but if he did I'm sure I'd still love him. But I would definitely ditch that outfit and re-think the hair.

Real Life General Hospital

My latest volunteer position at a local hospital has me visiting the sick. Acting as a liaison between the patients and the administration, I go from sickroom to sickroom, sanitizing my hands on the way in and the way out each time, determining if all is going well and if not, why not. It's interesting and depressing at the same time, which might also be a description of life itself on some days.

This morning I met a loquacious woman who absolutely hated the food, especially the hamburger they brought her for dinner last night. "It was terrible," she all but shouted. "How hard is it to make a good hamburger? My father works in a crummy restaurant and he makes much better hamburgers than they have here. And for dinner the day before, the pork loin was wet! I make great pork loin, that is so easy to make, I know that for a fact. You just throw it in the oven. How hard is that?" Leaving her with a promise to talk to the chef, or at the very least the volunteer coordinator, I went into the next room and asked the man in there his opinion of the hospital fare. "I didn't come here for the food," he said, putting his hand over his heart. "It's the ticker that's the problem. But they do make a pretty good burger."

A few doors down I chatted with a very old woman who had a tube up her nose, several more coming out of her arms and a distinct twinkle in her eye. Since we volunteers are not permitted to ask personal questions, I had no idea what ailed her. She offered that things were going great, and that the hamburgers were fine but the vegetables were too mushy. "They cook them too long, that's what it is," she explained. She seemed pleased that the nurses were attentive and her doctor had come to see her every day, but she was quite annoyed that on last night's "Dancing With the Stars," transgendered son-of-Cher Chaz Bono was the last contestant. "I had to watch the whole damn show when all I wanted was to see her, or him, or whatever he is. Here I am sick in the hospital and I need my sleep. They should know that everyone just wanted to see her...or him. He should have been on first. Or her."

I knew this work would be eye-opening.