Don't Forget to Wipe Your Ass!

So, we all have mothers and we all find them to be annoying at some point. That being said, my mom can often take the cake in the annoyance department. For sure, as time goes on you will hear more things that she has done but the following is an example.

Now, she is not all-annoying-all-the-time. But even when she is doing something nice, she gets weird about it. For example, she is obsessed with little people pajamas. She regularly sends sweet bebe dozens of pjs. Not that it is not kind but, seriously, they are not disposable and we probably don't need 30 sets. But there you have it; we are pj central.

Onto the annoying side of things... From the beginning let me establish that my brother and I both have graduate degrees, own homes and have never had CPS take away our kiddies in the middle of the night. We have also never been on the news stating "it sounded just like a train" and then sobbing about how our trailer got sucked up in a tornado. The "take back man" has never visited us in the middle of the night to "borrow" our car. Overall, he and I are pretty successful, productive members of society.

That being said, my mother has this awful habit of thinking that if she were not there to micromanage our lives and constantly remind us to do things, that we would fall apart. Once when my brother dropped her off at the airport (to visit me, oh joy of joys), she called him five times before he left the airport grounds. Now DFW is a large airport but, seriously, five times with instructions that start off with "don't forget to pick your daughter up from school" to "she needs to be seatbelted in." We like to call the obvious instructions the "and don't forget to wipe your ass" phone calls.

My latest one went something like this (and I swear I am not exaggerating):

Ring, ring.
me: Hello
mom: How is the baby?
me: I'm fine, thanks for asking.
mom: How is the baby?
me: He is good. We are going to the zoo in a few. Can I call you later?
mom: Fine. Bye.

10 seconds later -- she calls back
me: yes?
mom: Don't forget sunscreen.
(NOTE: I have worn sunscreen religiously since about the 7th grade. My ancestors were, quite clearly, inventing the wheel or writing on walls or something else that did not involve the outdoors. Otherwise, they would have died from melanoma LONG before child-bearing age).
me: (patiently) Thanks, Mom.

10 seconds later -- she calls back
Mom: Don't forget a hat.

10 seconds later -- she calls back
Mom: Don't forget his food.

10 seconds later -- she calls back
Mom: Don't forget the stroller.

Believe it or not this goes on FOR 10 PHONE CALLS which I have to answer since she knows that I actually have my phone near me. (Normally, I lose it for days at a time in my car or, once, in the fridge -- hey, I was pregnant, cut me some slack. When it is not lost, it is in the bottom of my purse. Dead. Besides, it is there for my convenience, not everyone else's).

And the phone calls continue to deteriorate in quality. The last one tells me, I KID YOU NOT,

"It's your mother (like I have not heard her voice most days of my life). Don't dangle the baby over the railing like Michael Jackson and don't let him put his hand in the lion's cage like those crazy people did in California."

AND SHE GENUINELY EXPECTS A RESPONSE!

me: "Got it, Mom. Only let the baby play with the lion if Michael Jackson is around." And then I hang up and refuse to answer again.

This is the voice mail I get "Very funny, asshole. Don't kill the baby. I repeat, don't kill the baby at the zoo. Call me when you get home so I can stop worrying."

And people wonder why I waited so long to reproduce.