Saturday, May 13, 2006

I Love My Mom Very, Very Much.


Now, I want it understood that I absolutely ADORE my mother.  She was everything, and more, that a mother should be, when we were kids growing up.  She never had much as a kid growing up, and I really think she loved our dolls and toys as much if not more than we did.  I can just barely remember Mom getting down on the floor and playing paper dolls with my sister and me.


With the younger two, she wasn't able to be a playful mom.  By then, Dad was getting sick and we didn't know, and she had other things to deal with.  But the oldest two kids, we got the funny playful mommy.  By that time, I was in my early teens, and I couldn't grow up fast enough.


Of course, once I hit those teens and wanted to grow up some more, she put her foot down on a lot of things that everybody else in the known universe got to do but that’s not what this post is about.


(I’ve forgotten all about how she chose and bought my formal for Prom without even consulting me or telling me she was going to do it.  Honest, I never think about that.  And even though it was the most hideous dress this side of a bridesmaid’s dress that you or anyone else could even imagine,  and I cried for days, and ended up apologizing to HER for hurting her feelings, I just never think about it any more.  Haven’t for years.  And that big bow she added herself to ‘fancy it up?’ I’m sure it was a lot prettier than I remember.  It had to be, there was only one way to go.  But I never think of those things now.)


I want it understood that I love my mother.  I sincerely, honestly, love my mother.  I'm proud to be her daughter.


However, unlike anybody else's mother, she is occasionally embarassing when we're out in public.


This post is about taking Mom to the movies, or actually, taking her anywhere in public.  It’s best done with all the daughters together, but sometimes I take her with just the two of us.  You’d think I’d have learned by now but I guess I forget in between times because I keep doing it.  In fact, Mom and I are going to the local Little Theatre next week.  (Scotty's in the play, by the way.)


The thing with Mom is, she’s forgotten how to whisper.  Everyone she sees either looks somehow familiar, or is a total stranger and where in the world did they come from and what do they want?  And do I know them? 


And if I know them and she doesn’t, where did I meet them?  Do I work with them?  Does Mom know any of their family?  Why are they wearing those clothes?  Who cuts their hair?  Why would they go out into public looking like that?


And did you hear the scandal about his/her (pick one) father, mother, sister, brother, Aunt Matilda, son, daughter, etc?   (Oh, they can’t hear me.  They’re busy.)


Me:  Mom, you’re really loud.  Hold it down.


Mom:  Oh, they don’t know me anyway.


Me:  Mom, they know ME.


Mom:  Well, that’s all right, they can’t hear me anyway.  Besides, it’s no secret, everybody knows.


Me:  Mom, WHISPER.


(Movie finally starts.  See if you can guess which movie.)


Mom:  Now, explain to me what they’re doing.


Me:  Mom, they’re transferring a dinosaur from the truck to the compound.


Mom:  Dinosaurs are extinct.  Is this a Disney movie?  Poor Annette, she’s in a wheelchair now, did you know?  Do they sing in this movie?


Me:  It’s based on a science fiction novel, Mom.  They’ve cloned dinosaurs and are stocking a park with them.


Mom:  Is that a ride?  That man is jerking up and down awfully fast, and he doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it.


Me:  No, Mom, the truck slipped and the dinosaur grabbed the man.


Mom:  They shouldn’t show things like that in the theater.  It makes people afraid to ride the rides.


Me:  It’s not a ride.  A dinosaur grabbed him and is going to devour him the minute the camera turns the other way.


Mom:  I won’t believe that till I see the dinosaur.


Me:  Before long you will, Mom.


Mom:  Now, nobody else in the theater knows what’s happening either, do they?




Honestly, I don’t know why we haven’t been thrown out.  It must be because our dialogue (and her monologue) is usually a lot better than the movie dialogue.


I hate sitting by people like us.




This next one really belongs to my sisters, but I’ll tell it anyway.  I'm sorry I missed this one, it must have been one of the greats.


Setting:  local sandwich shop:


Mom:  Our former minister has started a new church.  It’s full of wife-swappers.


Sis:  Mom, hold your voice down, that’s not a very nice thing to say.


Mom:  Well, it’s true.  Maybe people should be warned.


Sis:  Mom, you’re repeating gossip.


Mom:  It’s not gossip when you know it’s true.


Sis:  Well, try to whisper.  The waitress might hear you.


Mom:  She already knows.  That’s his daughter.




Mom:  And that girl behind the cash register?  That’s his daughter, too.




Mom:  Shh, why are you always so loud in public?


We’ve all given up.


Good thing we love her.


Happy Mother's Day, Mom.  You're the greatest and I wouldn't trade you for any TV sitcom mom in any era.  Not even for Morticia.


And I always thought Morticia was awesome.


You don't think MY kids will ever tell people I'm embarassing, do you? 






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