A Couple of Mom Stories For Today...

As happens, I have been thinking about my Mom a lot today and I will share two stories of what she was like …

My Mother did not swear. Ever. My Mother once said the word ‘Crap,’ and followed it quickly with, ‘Pardon my French.’ How she raised a son that swears like Cher, or a longshoreman, is a mystery, and yet I never cursed in front of Mother except one time.

I was living in California, about ninety minutes from my parents and Mom called to see if I would dog sit while she and my Dad took a long weekend away. Of course, I said; happy to di it, I said;  Just get me the dates you need me, I said.

One Friday afternoon, Mom called me to say she and dad were getting ready to go and when was I going to arrive. She had never given me a specific date and we went round and round:

I know I’ll told you the dates.

No, Mom, you didn’t.

I’m pretty sure I did.

Mom, I asked you for the dates and you said you’d get them for me,

And I got them for you.

No, Mom, you didn’t, and I need to change my schedule now, if I can—

Well, I know I told you!

Mom. That is a fucking lie.

:::click:::

I stood in my house and panicked thinking I’d just cursed in front of my Mother—and I was a grown-assed man at the time, but still—and as I freaked out, my phone rang again:

Hello.

You said the f-word to your mother?

And that was the only time I ever cursed in front of her.

 

A sweeter story without swearing … when my Mother called me or I called he, we’d always chat for a good long while, and then she would say:

All right, I need to get off here, Your Dad will be home soon.

And she’d keep taking, until:

All right, sweetie, that’s it for me. I’ll talk to you soon.

And she’d keep talking. And talking. But, when she was actually, truly, finally finished, she’d always say this:

All right, then, Goodbye sweetie, I love you.

And then she was off.

I still miss that send off.

PS That's a picture my Dad took of my Mom when they'd gone down to an inn by the sea for an anniversary weekend.