My mother.
My mother is one of the most charmingly wonderful yet strangely helpfully annoying people on the planet.
Let me relate to you a conversation that happened this morning:
9:05 am (if you are a grad student you understand that I am NEVER awake this early) [home phone rings 10 times]
[I roll over and pull my pillow over my head in a vain attempt to recapture that delightful dream about beaches, and boats and some kind of entertaining nightlife]
9:06 am [cell phone rings] since it is plugged in near my head there is now no chance whatsoever of remembering what I was dreaming so a hand emerges from the blanket-cocoon and grasps the cell
"Hello?"
"Katie, it's your mother" (tones of urgency in her voice)
"Hi" (muzzy thinking is just registering the idea that mom=parent=someone I should talk to
"You didn't answer your home phone - I let it ring a long time"
"I was asleep"
"Oh no! I'm so sorry (is she really sorry? who can tell?) I just wanted to give you a call and let you know what's going on"
(suddenly wide awake) "what's the matter?"
"it's snowing"
"..."
"Katie? It's snowing"
"yes... and..."
"and its supposed to get worse through the day - I've been watching the TV, and you are supposed to get a lot of snow this afternoon - its a winterweatheradvisorysoyoushouldprobablypacksomeclothesinyourcarjustincaseyougettrappeddown inhydepark"
"uh.."
"so you can stay with a friend because by the time the plows come through your car may be buried in snow and then you won't have anything to get yourself out with"
"I keep a shovel in my trunk?"
"you should call someone just in case and really you should get down there soon because you're in the window of less snow right now and soon it's going to start snowing harder and you'll have a hard time getting down there so you don't want to miss your window."
"window?"
"window when its not snowing - you might want to think about heading out soon - your class is over late, isn't it - it might be too snowy to drive home so you should think about staying at a friend's house"
"ok mom, I'll pack some underwear"
"you might be stuck for a few days" (seriously)
"ok."
"sorry I called you so early"
"ok"
"I love you"
"I love you too, mom"
"you know I just worry about you"
"I know"
etc...
**sigh**
It would be more charming if this didn't happen all the time. She finally stopped calling me about the severe thunderstorm watches and warnings, tornado watches and warnings, heavy fog, and freezing rain... but there's something about snow that lingers. Of course, now she's intensly apologetic when she calls - knowing that it is annoying, but also torn with the idea that if she doesn't warn me then if something happens to me she will be responsible (how this works, I'm not sure). Although I would prefer to have a mother that thought about me enough to make sure I am safe compared to someone who didn't - I've come to treasure these little moments in the morning. They aren't as annoying as they used to be, somehow. I think that this is her version of still tucking me in at night and making sure that there aren't any monsters in my closet or under my bed.
Let me relate to you a conversation that happened this morning:
9:05 am (if you are a grad student you understand that I am NEVER awake this early) [home phone rings 10 times]
[I roll over and pull my pillow over my head in a vain attempt to recapture that delightful dream about beaches, and boats and some kind of entertaining nightlife]
9:06 am [cell phone rings] since it is plugged in near my head there is now no chance whatsoever of remembering what I was dreaming so a hand emerges from the blanket-cocoon and grasps the cell
"Hello?"
"Katie, it's your mother" (tones of urgency in her voice)
"Hi" (muzzy thinking is just registering the idea that mom=parent=someone I should talk to
"You didn't answer your home phone - I let it ring a long time"
"I was asleep"
"Oh no! I'm so sorry (is she really sorry? who can tell?) I just wanted to give you a call and let you know what's going on"
(suddenly wide awake) "what's the matter?"
"it's snowing"
"..."
"Katie? It's snowing"
"yes... and..."
"and its supposed to get worse through the day - I've been watching the TV, and you are supposed to get a lot of snow this afternoon - its a winterweatheradvisorysoyoushouldprobablypacksomeclothesinyourcarjustincaseyougettrappeddown inhydepark"
"uh.."
"so you can stay with a friend because by the time the plows come through your car may be buried in snow and then you won't have anything to get yourself out with"
"I keep a shovel in my trunk?"
"you should call someone just in case and really you should get down there soon because you're in the window of less snow right now and soon it's going to start snowing harder and you'll have a hard time getting down there so you don't want to miss your window."
"window?"
"window when its not snowing - you might want to think about heading out soon - your class is over late, isn't it - it might be too snowy to drive home so you should think about staying at a friend's house"
"ok mom, I'll pack some underwear"
"you might be stuck for a few days" (seriously)
"ok."
"sorry I called you so early"
"ok"
"I love you"
"I love you too, mom"
"you know I just worry about you"
"I know"
etc...
**sigh**
It would be more charming if this didn't happen all the time. She finally stopped calling me about the severe thunderstorm watches and warnings, tornado watches and warnings, heavy fog, and freezing rain... but there's something about snow that lingers. Of course, now she's intensly apologetic when she calls - knowing that it is annoying, but also torn with the idea that if she doesn't warn me then if something happens to me she will be responsible (how this works, I'm not sure). Although I would prefer to have a mother that thought about me enough to make sure I am safe compared to someone who didn't - I've come to treasure these little moments in the morning. They aren't as annoying as they used to be, somehow. I think that this is her version of still tucking me in at night and making sure that there aren't any monsters in my closet or under my bed.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home