Category Archives: My Mom
It’s often the case that my mom and my daughter FaceTime eachother in the mornings before Alice goes to preschool.
It’s also often the case that my mom is still in bed during their morning conversation.
Sometimes I listen in, but most of the time I’m busy getting the 2-year-old dressed or the 6-year-old on the bus. Or eating breakfast. Or checking in on Facebook. Or just sitting there staring into space…
But I just happened to be part of the conversation one day last week, when I saw the strangest thing happen.
There was my mom, sitting in bed talking on her iPad to us – and in walked my dad – delivering my mom’s morning cup of coffee.
“Mom,” I said. “What exactly just happened there?”
Oh – your dad knows how much I like to have my coffee first thing in the morning, so he delivers it to me in bed.
Apparently this has been going on for the last five years. My mom stays in bed until her coffee is delivered.
And – only after she drinks that first cup – does she get up and start her day.
I pushed her to please share her little secret with me on how I could receive some similar treatment at my house.
And she finally admitted that when she first retired, she wasn’t always the fastest to hop out of bed in the morning. And eventually – after many mornings passing her by – this became their new routine.
My dad gets ready for work, brews a pot of coffee, delivers my mom’s first cup to her in bed and heads off to work. After she’s finished the last drop, she starts her day.
I was shocked.
Me: So let me get this straight. You stopped getting out of bed, and so my dad started bringing you coffee?
My Mom: Yup. Pretty much.
Using my mom’s advice, I decided to give it a try. When Even Steven got up for work and woke up every single person in the house, with his ridiculously loud everything, I told him I would be staying in bed until he delivered my morning coffee.
I woke up 90 minutes later.
I raced downstairs in a panic to find that Even Steven had left for work.
The television was blaring.
Alice and Simon were playing on the iPad.
Big Hairy Dog was drinking out of the toilet.
And Miles had eaten four containers of applesauce and was busy gluing them together to make a rocket ship.
Which I’m pretty sure means that I’m a terrible mom.
And I made a poor choice in husbands.
If only he weren’t so cute…
PS – When I asked my mom to please send me a picture of herself drinking coffee in bed – so that I could include it in my blog post – this is what she sent me.
Bonus points if you can name that movie.
The next time you suggest a camping trip for the entire family – and you pick the place – the answer is no!
Or, Oh that sounds like fun.
Don’t get me wrong, we had a wonderful time in the woods with the kids – once my heart recovered from the hairpin curves and the drop-off cliffs on either side of the truck – for miles and miles!!
And this after getting a text that read “Really cool campground – kind of hilly.”
Hilly? Really??? That’s what you call those drop-offs? I was terrified each time a child went outside that we would lose them over the edge.
The beauty was stunning for sure – and Dad was a miracle worker – backing the trailer in between all those trees on a tiny little path with a death drop… the only thing truly missing was a wind storm to make all my fears come true.
The 4-hour drive that turned into 7 grueling traffic–filled hours, ending in a climb up a mountain side that threatened to give me a nose bleed was topped only by the thrill I felt when we went exploring on Saturday, and you let the children try the trails on their own – in spite of the warning signs…
I really tried not to care or watch as they tripped down and up the paths and explored the caves and the edges… and to your credit – they lived.
And looking at the pictures – we had a wonderful time for sure.
But this time, I have really learned my lesson. No more trusting you.
It reminds me of the time I trusted your pregnant hormonal self when you set me up with your hairdresser for a special cut that you claimed was perfect for me.
I wasn’t allowed to look in the mirror for 3 hours – and when I did my hair was an inch long (or less) all over my head. Even my best friends asked “how could you let her do that to you?” and they were talking about you – not the hairdresser.
“I trusted her,” was my reply – which is what I said to your Dad when we were hours into traffic and he asked if I had any idea where we were going.
“Did you even check this out?” he asked.
My answer? “I trusted her.”
Well, that was your first mistake. He said that silently – but I knew what he was thinking.
So I love you dear daughter, and I love spending time with you and your precious family – but next time, I pick the spot – got it?
Now please excuse me while I check out what my new favorite blogger is up to today.
I’m still recovering from my last week of camping and a stomach bug – not at the same time thankfully. I’m behind on the blog, but I thought this would be a good post to share with you today. I mean – seriously – the woman had Crisco in her camper!
My mom is visiting me this week, which is always fun. We laugh a lot and get a lot of house projects accomplished when she’s in town. And she gets to read me your blog comments out loud rather than call me on the phone every time someone comments.
Especially now that I have kids, I could easily have my mom move in full-time. Anyone that wants to wash my windows, change diapers, do my laundry, clean up the kitchen and play with my kids can stay forever as far as I’m concerned.
But – there are several things about being here that drive HER nuts!
I Don’t Have a Stocked Pantry
If you’ve ever been to my mom’s house, then you know that if the world is coming to an end – you want to be in her house when it does. She could feed 20 people for 20 years if necessary.
If she has any less than 15 cans of Crisco in the basement, she gets a little twitch in her left eye. And – after camping with her last weekend – I can tell you that she even takes Crisco with her while camping!
And so she is constantly surprised by the bareness of my pantry. We go to the grocery store once a week, and we get what we need.
If we happen to run out of something, we just don’t eat that something or bake those cookies until we go to the store again (or we run out and pick some up if we really need to.)
This makes my mom nervous to be here for more than a few days. Because if we run out of brown rice or pasta, the world really could end.
I Don’t Keep a Running Grocery List
Along with the pantry issues, I don’t keep a running grocery list throughout the week. I’ll be the first to admit that this would save me time when I’m making the weekly grocery list – but it just hasn’t consistently happened for me.
My mom spends the majority of her visits making her own grocery list for us.
Mom: You only have 10 rolls of paper towels. Do you have paper towels on your grocery list?
Me: No. I don’t have a grocery list.
Mom: Well – do you know you only have one roll of tin foil? And I only see 20 AA batteries – that could be a problem.
Now I leave a pad of paper and a pen next to her bed so that she can carry it with her during her visits and write down whatever her heart desires.
I Don’t Have Kleenex. Ever.
What can I say? Our noses don’t run very much. And when they do, it’s nothing that a little toilet paper or a shirt sleeve can’t take care of.
My mom, on the other hand, prefers to have tissues tucked into both sleeves, in her pockets, in her bra and in her purse at all times. You never know when you (or someone within a 10-mile radius) is going to need 500 Kleenex.
So you can see why my lack of tissue makes my mom nervous. Within the first few hours of her visit she never fails to ask,
“Where do you keep your Kleenex?”
Me: I don’t have any.
Mom: What? What do you wipe your nose on?
Me: I don’t.
My mom told Alice that they make special tissue just for noses, and Alice didn’t believe her. “Yia Yia is so silly!”
I Don’t Care When My Kids Pooped Last
My mom loves to report poops to me.
“Miles just had a really big one. He had to strain just a little, but I don’t think it was too bad.”
“Alice pooped just before nap. I’d give it about a 4 on the runny scale. And – did you feed her corn today?”
Statements like these usually lead to conversations like this:
Mom: Well, don’t you think you should know?
Mom: What if you need to know? What if they get sick and the doctor asks you when the last time was that they pooped or if it’s been soft or hard?
What can I say? I stopped tracking poops when Miles was an infant. I’m not even sure when the last time was that I pooped. Oh – wait – I remember now. It was the last time I was in public with all three kids…