Sundays with Mama, Vol. III

I was thinking, just yesterday, about how I've had little fodder for "Sundays with Mama." I even started to write a crazy memory from a year or so ago, with intentions of posting it tonight or tomorrow. As luck would have it, new fodder presented itself, on this Sunday.

First of all, I showed up today, as I do every Sunday, at noon, to pick her up for lunch. The screen door was locked so that I couldn't let myself in with my key. After a longer-than-usual wait outside, while I pounded on the door, and her pekinese, Buddy, barked his Little Buddy head off, my mother opened the door, in a daze.

She was still in pajamas with hilarious bedhead, and still in a sleep stupor. In so much of a stupor that she didn't mention that I'd just woken her, she just shuffled off to get dressed. I was actually initially alarmed, but then she explained that she'd been "partying" with my niece and nephew last night (ages 20 and 16)...at the mall, and then renting movies and watching them until ... well, today! Mom had pulled an all nighter!!!

So, while Wild Mom got herself together, I walked Buddy, went over her bills, flipped through the Sunday ads, used the "little girls" room...Hm. Interesting find in there; I came back out and met Mom in the kitchen. "Uh...Mom...what happened to the TP?"


She just stood at the counter, entirely composed...for several...seconds... I waited for an answer, with the maimed roll in my hands. She tried to wait me out, but a smile began to spread across her face. "It got chewed," she finally announced, very matter-of-factly.

"BY THE DOG?" I yelped! She broke into laughter then, saying "well, I didn't want to WASTE it!!!"

I was, by then, laughing also, but still incredulous. "Mother!" I chastised, "there is dog spit on this!! You can NOT touch your vagina with it!!"

"The V-word" is not really one that was ever spoken outloud in my parents' household, and my naughty brashness buckled her over the kitchen sink, laughing until tears rolled down her cheeks.

No exciting conclusion, as there rarely is with Tales of the Mother. I put the TP back long enough for a photo shoot, then slam dunked it into the garbage. We sped off for lunch and errands, still giggling.

It's funny: my mother has a quiet, hilarious way about her. An understated hilarity, that makes you laugh your ass off while you're with her, but after, you can't, for your life, remember what had been so funny that afternoon.

I am extremely happy to be writing this stuff here.