Phone Calls from Mother: I & II

Make no mistake, I love my mother.  Am lucky to still have a mother.  And she is a wonderful mother.  Her phone calls?  Sometimes I just have to wonder what planet she is calling from.  Most recent cases-in-point:

My sister had an unpleasant but necessary hospital procedure this week.  Upon returning from the hospital, my mom called me to update me on sister’s condition. 

Me:  “Hello?”. 

Mother: “Well, I’ve just gotten home from the hospital. Your sister cannot move an inch for 11 hours.  They are giving her morphine.  She is in terrible pain.  Why don’t you give her a call?” 

Morphine? No Moving? Terrible Pain, three ingredients which scream no talkee. Me: “You know, I think I’ll call tomorrow when she is out of pain and her morphine haze.” 

Mother:  ” No, really, you should give her a call.”

Me:  “She can’t move.  If I call her, she might move and throw a clot.  Plus, she is stoned beyond the pale and would not remember a call from Brad Pitt.  Okay?”

Mother:  “Well!  Whatever!”   Whatever, indeed.

My parents are headed to beautiful place for a reunion with a number of old friends.  Fun, fun, and more fun.  I’d called to wish them a happy trip.

Me:  “Hey there, just called to wish you a good trip; it will be so much fun!”

Mother:  “I really need this trip (she does).  Why do you sound so happy?”

Me:  “What?”

Mother:  “WHY DO YOU SOUND SO HAPPY?”

Because I’m going to call everyone I knew from high school, invite them to your house while you are gone, and we will reenact the party scene from “Sixteen Candles”.  Me:  “Would you prefer me to sound sad?”

Mother:  “No, but you don’t always sound happy?”

Me:  “Who does?”

Sheesh.  While I was growing up – and exasperating her to no end – she would say, “You could make a patron saint cuss.”  Methinks this apple hasn’t fallen far from that tree.

Later.

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