I actually enjoy my mom’s running and often repetitive commentary about TV shows — and the fact that they almost never have anything to do with what is actually occurring on the screen makes them even more entertaining.
Mom: “Did you know that Judge Judy has been married three times?”
Me: “Yes, Mom, you told me that.”
Mom: “Hm. Were you surprised?”
Me: “Yeah, sort of.”
Mom: “I don’t know how she found three men to marry her.”
I say nothing, waiting for the inevitable.
Mom: “I mean, look at her.”
Me: “Well she could certainly ditch the lace collar and get a new haircut.”
Mom processes this.
Mom: “I think it’s too late for that.” (Laughs).
Me: “Oh wait, now I have to rewind.”
Me: “I think I may have missed Judge Judy saying “‘kerfuffle,” and every time I watch I have to count how many times she says it.”
Mom sighs and rolls her eyes. As if I’m the low man on the totem pole here.
My 89-year-mother is living proof that some parents never stop holding on to their dreams for their children. Even when the “child” is over 50.
Mom cast a very serious look in my direction during a break from the action in “Wheel of Fortune” the other night. “So,” she said sharply, “You never became a cheerleader, did you?”
I am STILL chuckling.
I have been making some silly and embarrassing mistakes in the rough drafts of some of my press releases recently. I finally realized that they were not so much the result of decreasing brain function on my part as they were of having “Family Feud” blaring in the background every afternoon as I attempt to work.
And so, Mom was treated to an half-hour of silence in the family room today as I put the finishing touches on a rough draft for approval. And even though I explained why, I know that she was a bit disappointed. Fortunately the promise of cookies as a reward for her patience seemed to do the trick.
We should all be this easy to please.
I am having a tough time pulling it all together today — work, mom care, and laundry– due to a raging sinus infection. And about an hour ago, I was feeling that if my mom sighed loudly one more time about my delay in delivering her lunch while she watched Family Feud, blood would spill.
This is most likely what my mother dealt with — often — while caring for my dad after his decline. Although they did their best to hide it from me, I know that they had some really tough days. And I was sometimes surprised and always grateful that Mom did not run out the door, never coming back, when I stopped by for a visit.
But she didn’t. She stayed, and persevered. And therefore so must I.
My mother turned 89 on January 7th and has hardly any wrinkles to show for it. She was blessed with the same flawless skin as her own mother always had.
When the two of us are watching television and a commercial for age-defying treatments — or what my mother’s generation calls “wrinkle creams” — comes on, Mom makes a point of telling me not to bother with them, as they “don’t do anything anyway.”
I have no idea what she means by this, or why she makes a point of directing this information at me. And frankly I am afraid to ask. Some things are better left unsaid.