"I am forever changed." The Prince.

This post might stir some controversy.  Whatever.

Yesterday, I spoke to my sister-in-law, the newest member of the club.  It was the first conversation after the viewing and funeral.  It was the first "real" conversation of her new life.

And she said this, "I am forever changed."

I cannot even imagine. 

"I cannot process that I am no longer the mother of a son, my son."

Oh, I can understand.

Let me preface with this statement, I ADORE MY DAUGHTER.  LOVE HER!

But, there is something about a mom and her boys.

It is just my brother, aka The Prince and me.  One girl and one boy.  I am the oldest.  The Prince is next in line.

My mom, and she is a great mom, loves her son.  It is pathetic.  Kids used to tease my brother, her because every sentence started with "Well MY MOM...."

When we were older, my brother and I worked together at a country club.  One particular weekend, we had the wedding of the century at the club.

Saturday, we worked 14 hours and the next day 10.  In typical fashion, my girlfriend took me home and Todd drove himself.  We got there first, when in through the basement, undressed, through the uniform in the wash and up the stairs I walked, with Cheryl behind me.  (no, I wasn't naked).

As we walked upstairs and I yelled, "I am home", my mom  responded "take your uniform off".  "Throw it in the washer."

I had already done this.

"I am starving", I said.

"Well, you will have to make yourself something."  (no kidding)

And so my friend Cheryl and I proceeded to make tuna sandwiches.

The Prince arrives.

My mom jumps out of the chair, opens up the door to the basement and asks, "how was work?  Here, let me get your uniform so I can get it in the wash for you."

"Are you hungry?"

"uh, yes, starving", the Prince replied.

"What would you like?"

Get ready for this response and I am being 100% factual.

"Chicken cordon bleu."

Are you kidding me?  I am making tuna and the Prince gets French Chicken?

Blatant favoritism.  Blatant.

My brother would torture me for hours.  I would beg my mom to make him stop.  Her response was, in a calm, genteel voice, "Todd, please do not torture your sister."

That's it.  I would have been clobbered.

One day in church, I taught my brother to go through the hymnal and add "under the covers" to the end of every hymn.

Of course he was bored and did and was sitting there laughing in the pew.  I was steadfast, straight ahead and my mom grabs me with that CLAW grip and gives me a look that would have startled Hitler because he was laughing.  After church, in the church parking lot, she gives my Holy Hell because I made him laugh.  And him, NOTHING.

Not one repercussion.

The morning of his wedding, as he sat in his beanbag eating pop tarts and watching cartoons, she yelled at me because she didn't like the way I made his bed.  Oh my God, I went  off....are you kidding?  If you are old enough to get married, you can turn off Speed Racer and make your bed.

Every Christmas she carts over state borders cookies for the Prince.  I get a duster from a flea market.

Every fellow who gets on television always says, right into the camera, "HI MOM!"

A few weeks ago, my mom came to visit.

I was saying that my brother was a mamma's boy, I married a mamma's boy, and I had two sons that are mamma's boys. 

And, after all those years of hearing how perfect and thoughtful and what a hard worker the Prince is, and how he appreciates everything his mamma does, after having two boys, I understood my mother's blatant affections toward the Prince Todd.

And we laughed.  After all, I was a daddy's girl, my mom was a daddy's girl and I gave birth to a daddy's girl. 

Yesterday, I felt so for my sister-in-law.  And my other sister-in-law.  And any mother who has lost a Prince. 

Because, I am sure, they made them feel like a Queen.