If it wasn’t for my mom, I would be without a sense of humor, a sense of adventure, and the cold, dark sense of reality. So, a month late, here’s a tribute to you, Mom- a few gems you’ve offered over the past few months/years of my existence…
1.
“Popcorn is corn and butter is a dairy
product.” Mom and I sat together for a viewing of What to Expect When You’re Expecting with our extra large refillable
popcorn buttered at every third (didn’t know that was an actual request until my
mom made it) and as I began chastising myself for eating from an actual bucket
of fat, she reassured me that “Popcorn is corn, and butter is a dairy product”-
logical. That last point from my mom was probably the best part of that film
which was unrealistic and did not do the book justice in the slightest. The
solid advice she gave me during my pregnancy could’ve saved the film. Gems
like, “Are you really buying a medium in those shorts? Your ass will never be a
medium again.” Or, “It’s not that we don’t think you’ll be a good parent, we just really, really want you to think this whole
thing through, you can’t return these.” Even better, “I will be humiliated if we go into that room for
your delivery and you swear in front of your nice doctor. And don’t get me started
on your butterfly tattoo that this poor woman will have to see when she pulls
your innocent son out.”
2.
“When will that dildo be out of his position
so you can get some work done?” My mom said this in reference to a
colleague I’ve casually mentioned being an annoyance at times. She mentioned
this over dinner while a couple of elderly folks looked on in dismay. It got me
thinking that 1. My mom just said the word “dildo” casually over tacos and 2. I
need to reevaluate how I’ve been handling my son’s new language acquisition. My
son cannot say “truck”. This isn’t like when my cousin, Cristiana, couldn’t say
the word “truck” without it sounding like an expletive, so, when I was younger,
my siblings and I used to make her say variations of “Truck you” or “Go truck
yourself!” all in good fun. My son’s version of truck comes out as a word that
sounds similar to “clock” minus the “L”. He was outside playing with my husband
today, sadly couldn’t find his truck and began worriedly screaming, “My c---!
My c---! I lost my c---!!!”
3.
“It’s the freakin’ weekend, Bill.” My
parents and I went out to dinner last night and I had left a new CD I’d burned
in their car without thinking. As R. Kelly started singing about the “freakin’
weekend” and putting his “key” into a lovely lady’s “ignition” I began to
shudder and pray my folks were not listening closely. The song went on to
describe what Robert would be doing to these nice girls in his limo and up in
his hotel room. As we pulled into the driveway and I’d decided once and for all
they hadn’t been listening, my mother turns to my father and says, “Bill, get
ready, it’s the freaking weekend”. To which he replied, “Sandy, I don’t know
what the hell you’re even talking about.” What embarrassing music will my son
listen to?
4.
“Things just got passed around in the
circle. I didn’t know what it was.” This is my mother’s only admission
of minimal marijuana usage. A “flower child” of the 60s, apparently, a lot of
shit would get passed around, and my mother, better known as “Cheech,” would
happily oblige. I pray to God my son is not a complete imbecile in this
department. I also hope and pray, that when I give the token line my parents
gave me all through high school, “We want you to be safe. If there is alcohol
involved, we will pick you up immediately, no questions asked, no humiliating
repercussions” he realizes that really means, “If you call me from a party
inebriated, so help me God, I will come down to the party myself, wait until
that kid’s parents get there, and rip the entire family new assholes, and you
will never be allowed outside again.”
5.
And, my personal favorite, “Well, try not to f--- it up.”
I told my mom recently that I was given a promotion of sorts at work. And in
true fashion, she paused what she was doing, looked at me intently, and goes,
“Well… try not to f--- it up, I guess.” Some may find that harsh, but I think
that’s a true sign of a block-walking parent (i.e. one who has been around the
block a few times in this profession) and wants the message out there that you
still need to work hard - promotion or not.
Thanks, Mom.
