Author Topic: A BIG Thank you and A Little humor in Honor of Mom...since we all have one  (Read 2191 times)

vkm91941

  • Guest
I posted this on the ANYTHING GOES board yesterday but I offer it here again as my GREAT BIG THANK YOU to everyone who send that WONDERFUL Mother's Day card.  I love you ALL. :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-* :-*  Bless You..Off to Church now with my boys.  See you all later tonight or tomorrow, heaven knos what THEY have planned it's been lovely so far..started with breakfast in bed.LOL

This little blog brought a smile to my face so in honor of all our Mother's on this day.....Enjoy  :D


Mom Rules!
 
By Mike Durrett


I imagine, by now, most of you regular followers of these features have surmised I am beyond the third grade level. At least physically.

It's true. I could have passed through the third grade many times by this point and, while I would have certainly enjoyed all those extra dodgeball games, mesmerizing flashcards, and lunchroom fish sticks, I am much too old chronologically to return -- although the resulting sure-fire booking on Jerry Springer is enticing (Men Who Eat Paste and the Eight-Year-Old Vixens Who Tattle on Them).

You can look at my picture and ascertain that, while I may be extremely tiny and possessed with troublesome black-and-blue pigmentation, I am operating somewhere well beyond elementary school age. I know you can see I'm a mature hunkosaurus, even though the Vaseline on the camera lens, the wrinkle-softening cheesecloth filter, the complex series of industrial air brushings, and my dimple cleavage augmentation cosmetics certainly did their youthful photographic trickery.

I am grown up. You can see it. I can see it. I sure wish my mother would acknowledge it.

Yesterday, while enjoying a perfectly pleasant Mother's Day restaurant feast, she whipped out a crumpled tissue (with the obligatory lipstick splotch), drenched it with her saliva, and rubbed hard on my cheek. Sure it hurt. This woman used to spar with Sugar Ray Robinson. (Back in '59, she garnered a TKO off heavyweight champ Sonny Liston, who forfeited loudly when he saw the drooly lipstick splotch coming at him.)

"Ow! Mama, that smarts!" I whined. Inflection is everything in public, kids.

"You've got toothpaste on your face," she said.

"No, I don't," I cried. "I brush after meals, not before."

"Well, you would've had toothpaste there and now you won't."

Mom Logic.

This incident got me to thinking about all those rules and warnings my mommy, Mimi, tirelessly admonished me with over the years as she raised -- and continues to raise -- me toward adulthood. It doesn't matter that I'm significantly older now than she was when she was guiding my toddling tot incarnation. If my shirttail is out or I leave something icky on my plate, I'm going to hear from her soundly. But with love!

"Michael," she said over brunch, "you need to wash behind your ears and you smell like a shrimp boat -- but I'd love some broccoli. Pass the hollandaise."

And Mom, if you are reading this, no, I haven't put the garbage out yet. But I will. I'll do it before I go to bed. I promise. Yes, I'll remember to separate the newspapers from the aluminum and the #2 plastics. And I'll be quiet and not wake the neighbors either. Sure, I'll place the can on the curb, not in the street. Okay, I'll check the mailbox, too, and look for the newspaper in the driveway. And if I see Mrs. Johnson, I'll tell her to phone you. And, oh, my, yes, that was a taste treat she casseroled over for your birthday 12 years ago. And, uh huh, I did return her baking dish; I did, yes. Um, Mom, I really need to get back to the feature I'm writing, if you don't mind. Fine. I'll call you later, yes. Hmmm? There are a lot of one-way streets in Charleston, indeed. You know, I haven't been in the Carolinas in years and don't have plans to return. But I will watch for the traffic signs the next time, if ever, we go. Right on red. What? When in southern California, visit Universal City. Will do. Gotcha. No, I haven't put the garbage out yet. But I will. Before bed. Stop reading this, Mom. Thank you. Bye. On the curb.

Sorry.

I reflected on a few of her child-rearing wisdoms as she recycled them again and worked them into our Mother's Day conversation:

"Look both ways before crossing the street."

Excellent advice. I can't begin to count the number of times I might have stepped on a chicken crossing the road.

"Don't bite your nails."

My dear madam, they are little piggies.

"Tie your shoes."

I was wearing loafers; nevertheless, throughout life, I've kept up with my shoestrings because the tripping dangers were obvious. I do suspect Mother taught me some oddball way of tying them, though, because I get strange stares whenever I'm observed lacing my flip-flops.

"Eat your dinner. There are children hungry in Africa."

I heard an entertainer speak on this momism and he said he became fat as a public service to keep those children from starving. I understand his dilemma. I never figured out how a tablespoonful of canned diced beets force-fed to me could -- one way or the other -- alter the nourishment of a continent.

I reasoned for years that canned diced beets must certainly be the most valuable commodity known to man, until I saw a James Bond film where the richest guy in the world was breaking into Fort Knox to steal something called "gold."

"Yeah, sure," I yelled at the movie screen, chuckling at gold's distinct lack of thick, purple juice. "Let's see you break into Del Monte, Tubby Tough Tough!"

Then, from the darkness, pelted Dots and Milk Duds knocked some sense into my head. I began to question the validity of that newfangled gold item. I visited my school and public libraries to read more about it. And it was true. Gold is worth more than canned diced beets. I stand corrected, humiliated. Thanks, Mom.

To make matters worse, I suspect I'll go to my grave without hearing Shirley Bassey sing the greatest James Bond theme of all: "Canneddicedbeetsfinger."

"Eat your vegetables."

Yes, ma'am. I have, too, ever since the day she produced a platter from the oven with a large cow's tongue on it. The sight made an indelible impression. I became a vegetarian. I refuse to eat anything that can talk back to me.

"Always wear clean underwear in case you're in a wreck."

I've been a participant in several accidents over the years and I simply don't think my clean undershorts helped matters much. In fact, the few times I showed them to the patrolmen, I perceived my fines were a bit higher.

"Don't cross your eyes. They'll get stuck."

Okay, perhaps, but why didn't she warn me about dreadlocking my eyelashes? These itty-bitty snarls are way no cool, mon.

"Watch your language, or I'll wash your mouth out with soap."

To me, Lifebuoy is a cheese.

"Don't chew with your mouth open."

She doesn't know what she's missing. It's absolutely, positively one of my most favorite amusing things to do, when I can pull it off with a straight face in a crowded restaurant, eating about eight waffles in five minutes.

Although, I'd never do that around my mother. She'd grab me by the ear lobe, twist and twist, and drag me to the parking lot for a whippin', young man.

But, with love!


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue: This feature originally appeared May 11, 1998. Mom's passed on now, but, rereading this piece, I know in my heart and in my head, she ain't ever going to leave me alone. Her Universal Momisms will always haunt and taunt -- and that's how things should be.

Mom also said, "You'll miss me when I'm gone."

I hate to admit it, but she is right again.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 About Your Guide: Mike Durrett has reviewed and assessed this article and is mighty happy he's wearing clean underwear.

http://humor.about.com/library/weekly/aa051198.htm

Offline twistedude

  • BetterMost Supporter!
  • BetterMost 1000+ Posts Club
  • *****
  • Posts: 1,430
  • "It's nobody's business but ours."
    • "every sort of organized noise"
At the moment, I'm workiong real hard on mom, but not mine...I have to remember that she's not able to see through walls, but is extremely sensitive and understanding. And any time you mention moms, you have to be careful not to get corny. Also gotta remember she's more than 20 years younger than this...

My daughter combined a biethday prersent with a mother's day card, almost 2 weeks ago, and that's all any of them (all 2) wrote...
"We're each of us alone, to be sure. What can you do but hold your hand out in the dark?" --"Nine Lives," by Ursula K. Le Guin, from The Wind's Twelve Quarters

TJ

  • Guest
To rephrase an old adage here: "Any woman can be a mother by giving birth to a child; but, only a real woman can be a Mommy."