Conversations with my mother: part one
June 24th, 2009
My mother has this tendency to try and talk to me whenever I am walking out the door, blow-drying my hair, on the toilet, asleep in bed or otherwise engaged.
Last Monday night, she waited until I was brushing my teeth before asking me if I had a good physio appointment. I gave a thumbs up.
“And did Elizabeth get my message?”
I shrugged.
“Did you have some dinner?”
I shook my head.
“Are you going to work tomorrow?”
I nodded.
“Well you’re just full of information tonight, aren’t you?”
“Woman,” I spat in the sink, “I am brushing my fucking teeth.”
“Okay, no need to be such a cow. Did you know I gave birth to you without any anesthetic? I pushed out your selfish head without so much as a goddamn epidural. And this is the thanks I get.”
3 Responses to “Conversations with my mother: part one”
And that is exactly the type of snark I plan to aim in my kids’ directions in the next 15 or so years!
@Natalie – just make sure you don’t do it while they’re busy.
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