The only good thing about my mom being pregnant that I could tell so far was that she was nauseous a lot of the time. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want my mom to feel sick or anything. But when a person is nauseous, that person doesn’t like cooking, which, in my mom’s case, is excellent news for me. I do not need one more tofu surprise with egg whites and mashed Brussels sprouts. Oh, and I forgot the mung beans that go on top. Nobody needs those.
So dinner that night was a pizza from Harvey’s. I had eaten a slice the day before with Papa Pete, but as I like to say, you just can’t eat too much pizza. I’m sure you agree.
We gathered around the kitchen table and opened the box from Harvey’s. Oh, no, what had my mom done? Tell me this wasn’t true. That beautiful delicious thin-crust pizza covered with cheese and tomato sauce was covered with…chunks of broccoli and purple-brownish eggplant. The broccoli was buried deep in the cheese, and the eggplant had already slimed and spread all over the pizza so you couldn’t even pull it off. My mom looked so pleased until she shot a glance over to me. She could tell by the way I was staring at this alien pizza that the vegetarian delight wouldn’t have been my first choice.
“Mom, pizza is not something we play around with,” I said. “It’s meant to hold cheese, which is meant to hold pepperoni and sausage and meatballs and mushrooms, and maybe an occasional olive. Not broccoli.”
“Now it’s a balanced meal, honey,” she said. “You’ve got your grains, your proteins, your fats, and now, your fruits and vegetables. The surprise is that under each piece of eggplant I asked them to hide a piece of pineapple.”
No wonder she was nauseous. Now the whole family was going to join her.
We all sat down at the kitchen table wondering who was going to be brave enough to take the first bite. We didn’t have to wonder long. Katherine, who was draped around Emily’s neck like a winter scarf, shot her long grey sticky tongue out to its full length and snatched a chunk of broccoli right off the pizza. It must have been hot, because instead of putting the broccoli in her mouth, she flipped it in the air and started waving her tongue above her head like a lasso. Suddenly, that pizza was looking pretty good to me. In fact, it was becoming my hero. Anything that can send Katherine into a tizzy is okay in my book.
I had brought Rosa to the table in her little plastic tank. My mom objected at first. But I explained to her that Rosa was there to help me practice for the new baby, and we certainly weren’t going to leave the baby in another room when we had dinner. So she agreed to let Rosa stay, as long as she didn’t have to sit next to her.
Anyway, maybe it was the iguana tongue-waving event that caused Rosa to flip out, but all of a sudden, she had crawled out from under her rock, scurried up the side of the tank, and was hanging upside down on the top of the tank’s lid, pulsating like a giant clam.
“Hey, Emily, get your iguana to get her tongue under control,” I said. “She’s getting Rosa all shook up.”
“Oh my goodness, Hank, you promised you’d keep that creepy-crawly creature away from me!” my mom said, bolting across the kitchen and landing in the doorjamb so she could leave at any moment.
“You’ve got to get used to her, Mom. She’s part of the family.”
“It’s just something about spiders that I can’t even think about,” my mom said. “I can’t handle all those legs.”
“Don’t say it so loud, Mom. You’re hurting her feelings.”
“I wish Papa Pete had checked with us before buying you a spider. It’s a big decision to bring a living thing into the family and it should’ve been a group decision.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “That’s exactly how I feel.”
“About what?” my dad asked.
“No one asked me if I wanted a baby brother or sister.”
“Of course you want one, honey,” my mom said. “Think of all the fun you’ll have.”
“Right. Being ignored by you guys because you’re busy changing diapers and teaching it the alphabet.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Hank,” my dad said. “No one’s going to ignore you.”
“Except me,” Emily chimed in. “But then again, I already do.”
“Okay, Dad, so when you’re on your twentieth round of playing peekaboo, where are you going to find the time to watch the Mets game with me?”
“Maybe the baby will be a baseball fan,” my mom said.
“Oh, I hope not,” Emily said. “I’m going to teach the baby all about how sound waves affect the insects that live in Central Park.”
“Great, we’re going to have the first baby in history to run away from home at the age of three and a half months,” I said.
“Hank, you’re going down the wrong path here,” my dad said. “All change is hard, but you’re being overly dramatic. Nothing is going to be taken away from you. You’re going to get everything you got before, and more!”
If what my father was saying was true, then this was the perfect moment to bring up plans for my birthday.
“Okay, then let’s start with my birthday party,” I said. “Last year’s was so much fun, I’d like to do it again. Remember, you took all my friends bowling at McKelty’s Rock ’N’ Bowl, then we had cheeseburgers and hot dogs and played video games. And for my birthday cake, I want that yellow one with chocolate icing from Babka’s Bakery.”
My mom looked at my dad with a worried expression on her face. That face said “things have changed” to me. As a matter of fact, it yelled it.
“About your party, Hank,” my dad said. “We were thinking of something different this year. Fun but quieter.”
“‘Quiet’ and ‘birthday party’ are two words that do not go together in the same sentence, Dad.”
“Hear me out, Hank. Since your birthday is Sunday, and it’s a school night, we were thinking of a nice dinner at home and then maybe a Scrabble challenge.”
“Hello, Dad. It’s Hank Zipzer’s birthday. As in he-can’t-spell-pretty-much-anything-but-his-name.”
“Okay, it doesn’t have to be Scrabble,” my dad said. “We can play charades. That’s always a fun indoor game. Frankie and Ashley will love it. They can come, too, of course.”
“Dad, nothing personal,” I said, “but I think your body has been officially invaded by aliens who are whispering weird thoughts in your ear.”
“I think it sounds like a very stimulating and challenging party,” Emily said.
“Whoops, those are two more words that should never be in the same sentence with birthday party.”
“It’s important to keep an open mind, honey,” my mom said. “About your party and about the new baby.”
“If it’s okay with you guys, I think I’m going to go to my room and try to open my mind there.”
“Would you like to take a slice of pizza with you, dear?” my mom asked.
“No thanks, Mom. I think Rosa is getting dizzy from the eggplant fumes.”
I picked up Rosa’s tank and turned to go. I wanted to be in my room, to think things over. It all seemed different. I mean, it wasn’t like my parents to plan such a lame birthday party. The only thing I could think of was that their thoughts and attention were on someone else. And I think you and I both know who that someone else was. That’s right, the diaper pooper.
As I turned to go, Katherine shot her tongue out in Rosa’s direction. Not being an expert on iguana feelings, I couldn’t tell for sure, but I’m pretty positive it wasn’t a “welcome to the family” gesture. In fact, I think it was more of a “hey, hairy girl, I was here first” kind of tongue flick.
I hate to say it, but I could understand how Katherine felt. I was here first, too. And now my birthday party was getting shoved aside by the new president of the Future Diaper Poopers of America.