My mother's capacity for worry - and for love - has no bounds.
She worries that I don't get enough sleep. She worries that she asks too much of me. She worries that someone will kidnap me (HA!). She worries that I give too much of myself away. She worries that my melanoma will return. She worries when I fly. She worries when I drive. She especially worries whenever I drive on windy days.
Seriously, anytime the wind blows over 40 MPH, I can expect a call from my Mom.
MOM: "Is today a traveling day?"
ME: "Yes, Mom."
MOM: "Are you gonna be driving by the wind farm again?"
ME: "Barely, Mom. The turbines will be way off in the distance."
MOM: "Oh, Robin...please wear a helmet! The wind is horrible and you never know when one of those blades might blow off and fly through the air - right towards your car."
ME: (This is where I'm forced to lie) "...uh, sure Mom, I'll wear a helmet. Don't you worry." (Forgive me Baby Jesus.)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Along with being a worrier, my Mama is also a blurter. Totally filterless. Which makes for plenty of embarrassing - albeit hilarious - moments.
Last week we were sitting together in a doctor's waiting room when I happened to notice an elderly couple coming out of the office. (And by elderly, I mean barely moving.) The shuffling little old woman was wearing a pair of denim overalls with - I swear this is the truth - a tube top underneath. I immediately went into full panic mode. Moving quickly, knowing I had only a few seconds to act, I slammed my hand over Mom's already moving mouth. Not in an abusive-call-adult-protective-services kind of way, but in a proactive-need-to-prevent-speech-but-allow-breathing kind of way. Mom started laughing, but I didn't dare remove my hand until the couple was safely out of hearing range. And even then I gave her a warning before I let her speak:
ME: "Now Mom...please be nice. Remember: What Would Jesus do?"
MOM: "Well, you're one to talk. Just how happy do you think Jesus is when He has to listen to your potty mouth?"
ME: "I'm pretty sure Jesus has better things to do than keep a cursing scorecard with my name on it."
MOM: "Well...I know what Jesus wouldn't do. Jesus would never wear a tube top under his overalls. That is just tacky."
And this is why I love my Mom. Not only does she make me laugh harder than anybody can, but really...who else is gonna pray for my protection from flying turbine blades?
She worries that I don't get enough sleep. She worries that she asks too much of me. She worries that someone will kidnap me (HA!). She worries that I give too much of myself away. She worries that my melanoma will return. She worries when I fly. She worries when I drive. She especially worries whenever I drive on windy days.
Seriously, anytime the wind blows over 40 MPH, I can expect a call from my Mom.
MOM: "Is today a traveling day?"
ME: "Yes, Mom."
MOM: "Are you gonna be driving by the wind farm again?"
ME: "Barely, Mom. The turbines will be way off in the distance."
MOM: "Oh, Robin...please wear a helmet! The wind is horrible and you never know when one of those blades might blow off and fly through the air - right towards your car."
ME: (This is where I'm forced to lie) "...uh, sure Mom, I'll wear a helmet. Don't you worry." (Forgive me Baby Jesus.)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Along with being a worrier, my Mama is also a blurter. Totally filterless. Which makes for plenty of embarrassing - albeit hilarious - moments.
Last week we were sitting together in a doctor's waiting room when I happened to notice an elderly couple coming out of the office. (And by elderly, I mean barely moving.) The shuffling little old woman was wearing a pair of denim overalls with - I swear this is the truth - a tube top underneath. I immediately went into full panic mode. Moving quickly, knowing I had only a few seconds to act, I slammed my hand over Mom's already moving mouth. Not in an abusive-call-adult-protective-services kind of way, but in a proactive-need-to-prevent-speech-but-allow-breathing kind of way. Mom started laughing, but I didn't dare remove my hand until the couple was safely out of hearing range. And even then I gave her a warning before I let her speak:
ME: "Now Mom...please be nice. Remember: What Would Jesus do?"
MOM: "Well, you're one to talk. Just how happy do you think Jesus is when He has to listen to your potty mouth?"
ME: "I'm pretty sure Jesus has better things to do than keep a cursing scorecard with my name on it."
MOM: "Well...I know what Jesus wouldn't do. Jesus would never wear a tube top under his overalls. That is just tacky."
And this is why I love my Mom. Not only does she make me laugh harder than anybody can, but really...who else is gonna pray for my protection from flying turbine blades?
No comments:
Post a Comment