Recently, several of my readers have asked about my mother. Thank you for caring. Honestly, it is hard to talk about my mother and I find myself avoiding calling her. It seems to reopen my wounded heart each time I speak to her. I am sad that I am so selfish and I want to call her more often and be a better daughter. As I’ve said before, being a grown up is difficult sometimes.
I did call her this morning during my quiet time. As I came to her name on my prayer list, I stopped and picked up the phone and dialed her number. She acts as though she remembers me when I tell her who I am, but other things she says during our conversation makes me think that she is covering the fact that she enjoys talking to me but does not realize that I am her daughter.
I enjoy making her laugh and since it isn’t possible to discuss her activities or family or even what she had for breakfast, I often take the lead in the conversation and try to make her giggle.
This morning I first told her about G and G and how they couldn’t decide if they wanted to be outside or inside. I went into great detail about the expressions of their cute little faces and how I was considering hiring a dog therapist that could possibly help them learn to make up their minds. I giggled when I realized that she thought I was talking about children. She said, “Well kids can be like that.” I quickly told her that they were my puppies and she just died laughing and said, “Well, they can be like that too.”
We then began talking about age. I reminded me that her birthday is coming up in February. She said, “Really.” I said yes, and that she should tell dad that she wanted a birthday present. He was nearby so she turned to him and said, “She said I want a present.”
I said, “Wait, tell him your birthday is coming up and that is why you want a present.”
She relayed my message and he said, “I know it. Maybe I’ll get you a cake.”
I said, “Tell him he can get you a cake, but that you want a present too.” By this time she is laughing so hard she can hardly speak.
She said, “Keep the cake, I want a present!” I nearly died. She was improvising and it was really funny.
I then said that my birthday was after hers and that I was going to be 59 years old!
She replied, “Oh, my, I’m not even that old!”
I quickly responded, “Yes you are, you are my mother! You have to be older.”
She said, “I don’t have any children…never had children.”
In the midst of our laughter and crazy talk my heart twinged with pain. I was right, she enjoyed talking to me, but she didn’t know that I was her daughter.
I quickly corrected her and said, “Yes you did and I have two daughters and they have three children…you have a big family!”
She said, “I do?”
I said, “Yes and they love you very much.” I then told her about my daughters and their children and husbands. She seemed to enjoy hearing about them.
After that, I told her that getting older wasn’t fun. She agreed and then I told her that one of the worst parts is what has happened to my stomach. She laughed and agreed. I said that I look down sometimes and wonder whose belly that is? She laughed even harder. I then told her that when I sit down some of it hangs over my belt. She laughed even more.
She then said, “Mine does too.”
I said, “Well I’ve decided not to look at it or touch it and then I don’t have to admit that it is there.” She laughed and I advised her to do the same. She agreed to follow my lead. Then she said, “I’m laughing so hard my stomach is shaking.”
I said, “Oh, don’t look at it, remember…if you don’t look at it, it really isn’t there.” She laughed even harder.
I then said, “Another thing I hate about getting older is that sometimes when I laugh really hard, I pee my pants.” Well I thought she was going to explode! She laughed so hard she couldn’t talk!
I said, “Don’t you hate it when that happens.”
She replied, “Well I’m glad I’m not as old as you are, I never do that!” So much for her buying that she is my mother…
By then I was exhausted and secretly thinking of taking my show on the road…wondering if all audiences would be as receptive as she was. I told her that I had to go, that I had much more important things to do than talk to her.
She responded, “Humph, I doubt that!”
Now you see where I get my sense of humor.
Living with Grace…and i’m grace