Down to Earth Dad:
Mama Drama
Mother’s Day is bittersweet for me. I enjoy helping my kids celebrate their mom, because she is a great mom and deserves some recognition. However, it’s a tough day for me because my mom is no longer with us. My mom died about 8 years ago. Have you ever read a book and there was a character so vivid that they jumped out of the pages and grabbed you, poured tequila down your throat, shook your head and blew a whistle in your ear? Well, that was my mom – but only in real life. In remembrance of my mom, here are a few of my favorite mom stories. What I am about to share is 100% true; believe me, I couldn’t make this up if I tried.
The Guatemala Incident - There are not a lot of avocados in Indiana, and as a result, guacamole is strange concept for many Hoosiers. Just the sight of guacamole triggered my mom’s gag-reflex and made her want to instantly vomit. It was like Mexican food kryptonite to her. One time we were in a restaurant and the waiter brought her a plate of food that had an innocent scoop of guacamole on the side. My mom had a breakdown and started shouting, “Get that Guatemala out of here.” This caused a problem since most of the guys working in the kitchen were from Guatemala. My mom became persona non grata at The Little Mexico Restaurant. Bruce Springfield -
Bruce Springsteen and Rick Springfield are two separate people – but not to my mom. In her world there was only Bruce Springfield, a guy from New Jersey who sang Jessie’s Girl. In 1984 I unsuccessfully attempted to teach her the difference between the two. I made flash cards. One card said Bruce, another said Spring, and a third said Steen. I showed her the appropriate card and had her repeat after me. “Bruce,” I said. “Bruce,” she repeated. “Spring,” I said. “Spring,” she repeated. “Steen,” I said. “Steen,” she repeated. “Now, put it all together,” I commanded. “Bruce Springfield,” she shouted with vigor. The more she said Springfield the more determined I was to make her say Springsteen. But after two hours of banging my head on the table I gave up. She won.
A Satanic Christmas -
Santa and Satan are an anagram. I found this out the hard way in 1980 when my mom mislabeled the tags for the Christmas presents. That year all of my gifts were from Satan. Granted, Christmas can be a stressful time, but seriously? This really freaked me out. When you have a grandmother who checks your scalp looking for the Sign of the Beast (she had watched the Omen too many times) and your Six Million Dollar Man board game arrives via Lucifer, you start to think something might be amiss in your family.
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Smashed Groom -
My mom had a curio cabinet in the living room. On one shelf sat the bride and groom that had been on top of my parents’ wedding cake, and it had been there for over 30 years. I came home from college one weekend and saw that it was missing. I asked her where it was, and without missing a beat she said “I got mad at your dad and I smashed it with a hammer.” I knew she was telling the truth because when I was 7 my Luke Skywalker action figure was decapitated with a butter knife, and as a teenager my Larry Bird poster ended up in the fireplace. If you messed with the bull in my house sometimes you got the horns. Sometimes you got the horns and you didn’t even do anything to the bull.
I have no doubt that if my mom was still around this Mother’s Day she would be annoying me with some passive aggressive guilt trip about not living in Indiana, but nevertheless I truly miss her and I wish she was here to celebrate her day.
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- Down to Earth Dad is a lawyer by day & youth soccer coach by night. He lives in Carlsbad with his wife & two kids.
May 2013
sdnor thcountykids.com
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