Three Days With My Mom…

This isn’t meant to be mean. It’s a “vent” of sorts. It was a way to get out all the frustrations from spending three full days with her. Our relationship was already (and had always been) strained…at best. It was difficult. This was my release. Maybe you’ll find it funny. Maybe not. It’s not cruel. It’s honest. I took out the cursing…you’re welcome.

These are posts I wrote for my former blog. Each one is taken from something she said, or did…some little part of a conversation she and I had, or something I noticed while I was with her. As she got more and more sick, she would blurt out things that she’d wanted to tell me. As the days/weeks/hours wore on, her filter was less and less obvious/available. It seemed, as the time wore on, that she just didn’t care anymore. It didn’t seem to matter if my feelings were hurt, or if she seemed mean. If she wanted to say it, or thought of it, then she said it.

OK. Here we go…

THINGS I LEARNED FROM MY MOM, DAY ONE:

“Ball-hockey”. Apparently she’s trying to stop yelling “BALLS!” in public. She used to say “horse-puckey” when I was a kid. Maybe this is a mixture of the two. I’m not sure, but it’s annoying and she says it with fervor. Really, she should just say “****”, and get it over with.

I’ve been told that I haven’t looked good in clothes since I was in eighth grade. Back then I wore high bangs, my jeans rolled at the bottom with socks over the top of the roll, and every color of neon or hypercolor shirt available. Remember? The shirts that changed colors with body heat. Yeah! REALLY SEXY in the Arizona desert. Was that really my best year?

High bangs are better than flat hair. Why does a “big girl” like me have short hair? I should have long hair again. If I took more vitamins and drank water rather than Pepsi, my hair would be long again. What? In like, a week? ‘Cause I’d give it up for a week.

I am a smart-ass (always have been) and I need to stop it before she takes further action. I would LOVE to see what that entails. Maybe more nagging…

I don’t know nearly enough about fireflies. I know that they fly and that they light up, and no, its not really fire. What else does a person who doesn’t care about fireflies need to know about them? I guess because I live here, I’m the expert. Although, it’s been pointed out that I’m not much of an expert.

I don’t remember anything from my childhood correctly.

When she gives me my choice of one of two things, I better pick the one she likes less. That way she can have her favorite.

It’s not using the Lord’s name in vain if you’re in pain when you scream out JESUS! BALLS! in the middle of the hospital. I laughed because there was no pause. She just yelled out “Jesus balls!” in public! So random. And, regardless of what she thinks, it was really funny!

I heard “that’s not funny” about seven times. And yes, it was. Every time.

I should stay in my job because I haven’t finished college yet and that’s what I get. A loser’s job. “If you’re going to be a loser who doesn’t finish school, then you deserve that job.” Thanks, Mom.

If I say “****” all the time, no one will ever want me. So I looked her in the eyes and said, “Would it be better if I went around saying ‘Jesus balls’?” My smart-ass comment wasn’t funny either.

I love this precious time I get to spend with her. I’m going to miss it never.

THINGS I LEARNED FROM MY MOM, DAY TWO:

Kyle Chandler is apparently delicious. (I don’t even know who that is) She told everyone in the waiting room how good looking he is, and how he’s made her “list”. Gross.

There is more wrong with this woman than I have ever wanted to know. Medically. Enough that I will need to keep a list for when I go to the doctor.

I think she may be flirting with the nurse. “You have such a nice voice. I went to sleep thinking about it”. Gross.

When the nurse left, she said, “Nice to meet you, beautiful”.

It is inappropriate to drink rum and coke at noon. Even if you’re with your mom and you’re about to drive off a cliff/bridge/into a tree. But…if she could drink alcohol, she would have a margarita. At noon. And then you would have to watch her drink it. But that’s OK for her. Not for you.

In a restaurant: Don’t take the side of the booth facing the door. She doesn’t want someone to sneak up behind her and murder her. I guess it’s fine if they sneak up behind me, but she wants to know they’re coming.

If you say something is hot, use lots of adjectives and describing words. “Hot like flowing lava.” “Permanently blistering.” “Hot” is not good enough, and you will get yelled at for not warning her. Especially after she burns her mouth on something that you tried to warn her about, but because you can’t do it right, and you failed, she’s burned, and you’re to blame.

You need to have mad math skills. You should magically be able to figure the tip on a bill she won’t let you read, and for an amount she won’t give you. Basically, know what’s ordered, and approximately how much it costs, so you can figure the bill in your head. Add two dollars and work from there. “You should be smart enough to figure it without a calculator.” Well, I am, but fifteen percent of an unknown number can be kind-of tricky. I made her pay twenty percent of what I thought it would be. I rounded up. It wasn’t my money.

Pay more attention when you go to the bathroom (for the fifth time I might add) at Applebee’s because you don’t want to walk into the mens room accidentally and then freak some guy out and make him “miss”. (this is just a PSA…nothing to do with my mom. It’s good advice either way.)

Take care of your feet. A little lotion and loofah once in a while. Nice pedicure. Maybe some polish. Then they won’t be nasty. Oh, and if they are nasty…DO NOT PUT THEM UP ON THE DASH, AND MAKE *ME* STARE AT THEM THE WHOLE WAY HOME!!!

…it continues tomorrow…

THINGS I LEARNED FROM MY MOM, DAY THREE:

In a restaurant: The booth facing the door is the best seat in the house, unless there’s a TV. Then she gets the side facing TV. I guess it doesn’t matter if your murdered by a crazy person, as long as you can see the TV.

McDonald’s chicken nuggets are better than chicken strips. Unless you ordered the chicken strips, and she changes her mind. Then she will eat seven of the ten nuggets while complaining and saying they are “no good”. She will then trade you lunches (since she paid, this is apparently legal), and take two of your three strips. So, out of three strips you got one, and then three nuggets that are “awful”. Also, because she paid, she will take all the sauces. You will make a mental note to eat faster.

If there’s a coupon attached to your cup, peel it off right away. You cannot take a sip of the drink until the sticker is off of the outside of the cup. Also: there are bonus points for giving her the coupon, and not keeping it for yourself. Although, you are reminded, she did pay, so the coupon really belongs to her, even though she didn’t get a drink.

Don’t pause to take a breath while you’re talking. Not even for two seconds. Otherwise she will jump in to guess what you were going to say. She’s always wrong. Usually she proves that she only thinks the worst of you.

Being in a bathroom stall is not meant to be a deterrent from holding hands in the bathroom. Nothing is creepier than seeing a hand come from underneath the stall wall and a voice asking, “Will you please hold my hand? I need to feel your love right now.”

Really. Just picture it. Picture it now. Are you picturing it? Ok. Now, when you get done shivering, and possibly puking, go take a shower.

No matter where you park, it’s never close enough. Even when she gets to wait in the air-conditioned waiting room and you have walk a half mile in the apocalyptic heat (this is an excellent phrase to use to describe how hot something is…FYI) to get the car, which feels like it’s been parked in hell, and still isn’t cool when you get all the way to the pick-up/drop-off area to get her. She will complain about that, too. “Why didn’t you cool off the car first?”

Don’t admit to forgetting your drivers license. Ever. She will watch every move you make. Question everything you do. Point out everything you could possibly get a ticket for. Then while you’re boiling mad with a white hot heat like you’ve never felt before, still you will need to keep your cool so you don’t do something stupid and get a ticket. There’s an “I told you so” just waiting for you. It’s always there, and it wants out. Badly.

Don’t wear flip flops that almost match the color of your shirt. She will question why you didn’t get the ones that did match. If you say, “These were the closest they had to this color of shirt. Old Navy doesn’t take requests, nor do they customize colors for you.”, you will be ‘looked’ at. Then she will say, “You should have gotten black. Black goes with everything.” You will then remind her of a time when she HATED that you wore lots of black, claiming it went with everything, and she will wonder why you hold on to EVERY. LITTLE. THING. You will then be driving (with no license) and she will remind you of your first time behind the wheel, driving alone, and how you mowed down the neighbors fence and had to pay for, and help install, a new one over the summer. EIGHTEEN. FREAKING. YEARS. AGO.

You can smile later knowing that you can, in fact, dig holes with a post hole digger, and put up a fence if the need should ever arise. Well done, me. :-)

Also: be glad these daily trips are over for a little while (until late next week) an you can return to your normal-ish, boring life.

Thanks for playing along…

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2 thoughts on “Three Days With My Mom…

  1. having worked with your mom for 5-6 years and only knowing “the public” side of her it is interesting to see the other side…. your mom and mine were alike in some ways.

    evelyn

    • Don’t get me wrong, She loved me the best way she knew how, but it’s extremely hard for someone who grew up constantly being criticized, to not do the same. I’m not making excuses for her, but I am more understanding than this post might lead you to believe. I also got frustrated…often. :)

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