Like Mama, Like Kitty

"You are labeled a menace to children this week when you invent a simple rubberband-powered pistol that fires crayons at 10,000 feet per second. "

I thought it appropriate, given the upcoming Hallmark/Floral-Industry holiday, to dedicate this one to My Mama. OK, confession time: That sounds like a delightful sentiment, but it's actually total coincidence. I just happened to have had a bloody hilarious conversation with my mom this morning.

It's no secret I'm a sleep-deprived and short-tempered mess. As such, the moment I answered her daily phone call, I was out the gate on my latest rant about The King and The Good Doctor. I'm amused by the manner with which I talk about my "darlings" to grandma. I'm guessing most kids out there choose to believe their parents would never chip away that marble pedestal they imagine they sit upon in their grandparents' respective eyes.... *maniacal laughter* Ahhh, children can be so naive, no?



As usual, I totally blamed them both for my lack of sleep (as well as my exponential increase in flavoring every sentence with colorful language). We had quite the hearty chuckle as we fed off each other's snarkiness while imagining crating them both and storing them in the crawlspace until more of a level of independence had been exhibited.... Yes, it went into far more detail, but we wouldn't want Social Services to start snooping around, now, would we?

I notified her that my habit of routinely dosing them both was beginning to be in vain as their l'il systems were becoming immune to my trickery. Without missing a beat, she advised I call their pediatrician to procure the sort of sedatives that could knock out a rhino. If he refused, she saw no reason for delaying a prompt trip across the border for some back-alley Valium. In the midst of this otherwise unhealthy line of debate, I couldn't help but beam. I was dreaming up some messed up shit in retaliation for having to be a responsible parent and she was agreeing with me every step of the way. Here and there she would even throw in her own memories of the mean/strange/illegal punishments she dreamt up for my brothers and I when we were too young to fight back. Curiously enough, I had mentally blocked out about 80% of these tales..... No matter, this was a good 'ol fashioned bonding moment for us: Two crazy broads who never should have been allowed to breed!



But you know? For all the things I could rant about - after all, if you leave us in the same room long enough, one of us is bound to come out either sobbingly drunk or the sole survivor - I love that woman more than life itself. To this day, I can close my eyes and imagine holding her hand when I was a pipsqueak - the smell of the elegant perfume she wore. I can remember the fabulously witty tongue-lashings she'd give those nosey assholes at the wineries when they'd question her decision to let me have a taste (or half-glass) of the stuff at the ripe age of 5 or 6. I remember crying on her shoulder when telling her about the (first and certainly not last) bully at school who called me Miss Piggy.... the texture of that royal blue velvety robe she'd wear....how comforting it felt against my tear-stained cheeks. The amazing sparkle in her eyes when she'd listen to ABBA for the millionth time. Her infectious laugh and delicate feminine features I always hoped I'd someday inherit (no such luck to date). I ached so deeply for her when she received the phone call that her father had died. And the sadness in her eyes when she'd stare blankly out the window - knowing her marriage of 25 years was over. More recently, I remember curling up on the couch of her new home - It was one of those winter nights where the humidity of the NW gives you chills down to your bones - We sat in front of her fireplace getting blissfully tanked on the finest wine and talking all through the night like the best of friends.




Loads of ups and downs. We have had our struggles, and sweet merciful jesus we can both be so goddamned stubborn. But I have learned so much from her. Odd that now she thinks to come to me for advice (We can go ahead and blame a bad batch of grapes somewhere along the way for that one!)... She and I are worlds apart in so many ways, but similar in just as many. Of course, I only aspire to be as beautiful, feisty and brilliant as she (after all, she's my very own Betty White!). Tonight, on my way home, I think I shall pick up a bottle of vino in her honor and give her another call to remind her how much I love her. I also think I'll go ahead and postpone the news that her little girl now (for the last 4 or so years) smokes. Wouldn't wanna ruin the moment, right? :)

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Kitty

Friday, May 6, 2011

Like Mama, Like Kitty

"You are labeled a menace to children this week when you invent a simple rubberband-powered pistol that fires crayons at 10,000 feet per second. "

I thought it appropriate, given the upcoming Hallmark/Floral-Industry holiday, to dedicate this one to My Mama. OK, confession time: That sounds like a delightful sentiment, but it's actually total coincidence. I just happened to have had a bloody hilarious conversation with my mom this morning.

It's no secret I'm a sleep-deprived and short-tempered mess. As such, the moment I answered her daily phone call, I was out the gate on my latest rant about The King and The Good Doctor. I'm amused by the manner with which I talk about my "darlings" to grandma. I'm guessing most kids out there choose to believe their parents would never chip away that marble pedestal they imagine they sit upon in their grandparents' respective eyes.... *maniacal laughter* Ahhh, children can be so naive, no?



As usual, I totally blamed them both for my lack of sleep (as well as my exponential increase in flavoring every sentence with colorful language). We had quite the hearty chuckle as we fed off each other's snarkiness while imagining crating them both and storing them in the crawlspace until more of a level of independence had been exhibited.... Yes, it went into far more detail, but we wouldn't want Social Services to start snooping around, now, would we?

I notified her that my habit of routinely dosing them both was beginning to be in vain as their l'il systems were becoming immune to my trickery. Without missing a beat, she advised I call their pediatrician to procure the sort of sedatives that could knock out a rhino. If he refused, she saw no reason for delaying a prompt trip across the border for some back-alley Valium. In the midst of this otherwise unhealthy line of debate, I couldn't help but beam. I was dreaming up some messed up shit in retaliation for having to be a responsible parent and she was agreeing with me every step of the way. Here and there she would even throw in her own memories of the mean/strange/illegal punishments she dreamt up for my brothers and I when we were too young to fight back. Curiously enough, I had mentally blocked out about 80% of these tales..... No matter, this was a good 'ol fashioned bonding moment for us: Two crazy broads who never should have been allowed to breed!



But you know? For all the things I could rant about - after all, if you leave us in the same room long enough, one of us is bound to come out either sobbingly drunk or the sole survivor - I love that woman more than life itself. To this day, I can close my eyes and imagine holding her hand when I was a pipsqueak - the smell of the elegant perfume she wore. I can remember the fabulously witty tongue-lashings she'd give those nosey assholes at the wineries when they'd question her decision to let me have a taste (or half-glass) of the stuff at the ripe age of 5 or 6. I remember crying on her shoulder when telling her about the (first and certainly not last) bully at school who called me Miss Piggy.... the texture of that royal blue velvety robe she'd wear....how comforting it felt against my tear-stained cheeks. The amazing sparkle in her eyes when she'd listen to ABBA for the millionth time. Her infectious laugh and delicate feminine features I always hoped I'd someday inherit (no such luck to date). I ached so deeply for her when she received the phone call that her father had died. And the sadness in her eyes when she'd stare blankly out the window - knowing her marriage of 25 years was over. More recently, I remember curling up on the couch of her new home - It was one of those winter nights where the humidity of the NW gives you chills down to your bones - We sat in front of her fireplace getting blissfully tanked on the finest wine and talking all through the night like the best of friends.




Loads of ups and downs. We have had our struggles, and sweet merciful jesus we can both be so goddamned stubborn. But I have learned so much from her. Odd that now she thinks to come to me for advice (We can go ahead and blame a bad batch of grapes somewhere along the way for that one!)... She and I are worlds apart in so many ways, but similar in just as many. Of course, I only aspire to be as beautiful, feisty and brilliant as she (after all, she's my very own Betty White!). Tonight, on my way home, I think I shall pick up a bottle of vino in her honor and give her another call to remind her how much I love her. I also think I'll go ahead and postpone the news that her little girl now (for the last 4 or so years) smokes. Wouldn't wanna ruin the moment, right? :)

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