Monday Mimisms ~ I Have Turned Into My Mother
I swore I would NOT turn into my mother.
And what have I done?
Turned into my mother.
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| Daffodils blooming in Bloggingham today |
After I was married and out on my own (barely out of diapers I was) we would visit my parents on the weekends. Back in the day. Talk. Eat. Rock the baby in the living room rocking chair. Drink iced tea. Talk. Rock. Time to go home.
And that's where the trouble began.
My mother would run into the laundry room and grab a big brown paper grocery bag. In those days, nobody used plastic bags and to this day I hate them, but that's another story. Then she would come back into the kitchen and start opening drawers. The snack drawer was first. Out came a couple of packs of saltine crackers from the box and 3 or 4 plastic wrapped oatmeal cookies. In the brown paper sack they'd go. Next, she would attack the fruit bowl, that is, if Daddy didn't get to it first. "Here, Sis...take these apples and a couple of bananas. We won't eat them before they go bad."
In went the fruit before I could say "no-thank-you-we-have-some-at-home-we-can-buy-our-own-fruit-really-we-can" but by that time Mama had opened the hot chocolate box and started throwing in individual packets of hot cocoa, which would soon find themselves mixed up willy-nilly with Lipton tea bags ( yes really!) that she'd divi up between us "just in case you run out of tea."
Before I could say I-never-run-out-of-tea-because-you-give-me-extra-in-little-loose-packs-all-the-time, I would find her curly head turning this way and that looking for other things to throw in the brown paper sack before we ran out the door. Usually by that time, Daddy, the fruit giver, was already back to the Sunday paper in his recliner. It was a smooth, silent, stealth operation between them. I learned to surrender and bought a special airtight container to store her leftover scavage-run gifts to me and put them in my own kitchen cabinet.;
Did I mention the little plastic ziploc bags? And empty plastic chicken salad containers full of leftover dessert from dinner? Yes, that too. Always accompanied by, "Don't forget to put that in the refrigerator when you get home!"
So tonight when my son started to leave after visiting with me for awhile,
I found myself saying, "Do you and the baby need extra canned food this week? I bought some extra macaroni and cheese on sale. And ravioli! Baby Beans loves pasta! Do you like it? (No, Mom) I opened the pantry door and grabbed a pack of moist towelettes. Everybody knows a person with a baby could use extra towelettes. He might run out at a crucial time!!
His head is shaking no-no-no as he takes the wipes with a thank you, throws the water bottles under his arm like a football and makes his hindered escape with a look of resigned surrender on his face.
I know that look.
Do any of you need some extra macaroni and cheese or ravioli this week.....I happen to have....
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Labels
Monday Mimisms,
True Story Files
4 comments:
Mom's never stop being mother hens, I guess. I would give anything to be more like my mother.
LOL I do that too!
Hahahaha that is just too funny ,that won't happen to me no kids except Speedy,xx Rachel
So funny; it's true, we all turn into our mothers. In my case, it means I sit around and read the newspaper all morning with my coffee and don't manage to shower and get out of the house until late afternoon. I used to give my mom a hard time about her habits and now they are mine!
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