Yoo hoo, why aren't you home?

‘Knicknack, paddy whack, give a dog a bone...this ole man comes rolling home.’ Dust those knicknacks, give a mom a blog…this ole woman’s jumped in whole hog.

Here I am in the 21st century…with a blog yet! And there’s my mother, still hollering into the phone as if I am on the other tin can tethered to hers by a string. Sheesh. My answering machine beats me to the phone every time (by deliberate design, actually) and there’s good ole Mother yelling into my machine “yoo hoo, anybody home?” Literally. You think I jest? Au contraire, mon ami. She does! Holler into it, I mean. It behooves me to pick it up and end the assault, although my psyche says “no, don’t!”

So then I ask myself “self, do your kids cringe when you dial them up?” I don’t know. Gosh, I hope not. But then, how would I know? I don’t tell my mother… I have tried to tactfully suggest that I can hear her just fine but it doesn’t seem to penetrate. We can all only be thankful that this sweet l’il terror does not have, and in all probability, will never have a cell phone. Woe unto the kiljoy (and us too) who would take it upon his or herself to bless Mother’s life with a cell phone! She doesn’t need it, I tell you… As long as her voice holds out her volume will take care of the rest. Perhaps you too heard her this morning… “hello, hello, is anybody home? Yoo hoo!”

She can carry on like this for quite some time too. Then when she’s sure you’re not in the same state, she starts muttering things. Like “hmmmn, guess they’re not there…where could they be?..why aren’t they answering?” Do you know anybody like that? Hope not. You’d be surprised how much guilt can be conferred with such mutterings. How dare me for not being home? How could I be out having a life somewhere else?! Isn’t it my craven duty to be home sitting beside the phone waiting for her to call? Thank goodness she doesn’t call often. Actually, I think she is in the process of forgetting me. But I should be glad. As long as she has the telephone to mutter into, why does she need me for conversation?

Oh, don’t get me wrong. She’s a sweet ole thing (not!) but she’s got these annoying habits. I especially don’t want to call her when I’m feeling down or slightly dilapidated because for sure she’ll hammer the nails of my downer (coffin) in. But then, when I’m feeling great, I don’t want to call her because I don’t want to spoil a perfectly good mood. You need a strong psyche to talk with this maven…believe me!

For one thing she never feels well. I’ve personally known my mother for 59 years and for 59 years she’s been ailing and doesn’t ‘feel good today.’ “I’m just not feeling good today” has been her lifelong mantra. It has taken me a goodly number of those 59 years to learn to bite my tongue and not offer up “you never feel good, when have you ever felt good?” Nosirree…it may not always be the best life, but it’s the only life I’ve got and I’ve decided to hang on to it. Know what I mean?!

And she’s always tired! No, make that ‘exhausted.’ “I’m exhausted today” she intones. Well of course she is! She operates on 50,000 volts constantly. She makes me exhausted! Believe me, I’ve considered donning body armor before doing conversational battle with her. This is a woman who considers life a challenge. It doesn’t matter what I say or ask, she’ll challenge me. She’s not the decrepit one, for all her 78 years…I am! From dealing with her.

‘Her Sweetness’ sows seeds of hysteria just as a landscaper sows grass seed. She’s coming over for dinner tonight. Maybe I ought to pop a fistful of vitamin pills, just in case… Ordinary life for us is high drama for her. She sees conspiracies and dark plots in everything. I have fond (well, maybe not so fond) memories of her over the years, peeking out the windows and muttering to herself (no, she’s not insane, but she is highly dramatic) about the intentions and machinations of the darn neighbors, the cows grazing contentedly, the world in general. Why be at peace with the rest of the world when it’s so much niftier to assume that no one else has the same moral turpitude she has. Believe me, her turpitude is as ‘moral’ as it gets!

Now don’t you go thinking that I don’t love my mother! I do, but holy cow, she makes that as difficult as she possibly can. I told you she’s a ‘challenger.’ She makes me think of a steropticon. You know, those things you look through with both your eyes and it ends up creating one image… Mother is like that. Everyone else can offer up ideas and views, but it always ends up as one…hers! If your ideas aren’t hers, you’re wrong! In fact, not only are you wrong, there’s something wrong with you… Know what I mean?

Perhaps tomorrow, when your eyes have rested up, I’ll post a tale about getting my first apartment. Mother figures…uh…interestingly (!) in that one. Don’t get me wrong. I do love this contrary l’il bundle of nerves. I mean…she’s my mother! Without her, I’d be nothing. My mission in life is to somehow, someday be worthy of the expenditure of DNA material she alloted me, but not to submit to being a clone (although she’d prefer that). Whether I’ve succeeded or not is the sole verdict conferred upon me by my own kids and my husband. Ask them…