Mom

My mother has a habit of watching everything I do whenever I’m in her presence. When I’m looking around the kitchen she asks if I’m looking for something. I always answer with “nothing,” because it drives her crazy (obviously I’m looking for something!) Then she’ll start listing all the food in the kitchen and the various combinations which they might be most enjoyable.

Every time she says, “Umm” in a specific tone I just know I’m going to have to get up and do something. For example, she’ll say “Umm (a pause while she collects her thoughts)…do you think someone can help me move the entire dining room set all while balancing the cat on my head?” Said looking directly at me.

She is obsessed with getting the cat pee smell out of my bedroom carpet and for that I am thankful.

She refuses to spell my name Debbye. I told her that it’s not something to be stubborn about, because it’s my damn name.

If she had it her way BBC America would be on all the time.

I’ll make dirty jokes just to make her uncomfortable. She’ll look at me over her glasses, smile and say, “I don’t want to hear it.” But I love to make her laugh. My interpretive dance to the X-Files theme song actually made her fall off the couch with tears streaming down her face.

My dad loves to tell the story of how, when they were dating, Devil with the Blue Dress was her song because of a sexy blue dress she would always wear. I would love to get in a time machine and meet her in that dress. I imagine she would disapprove of everything about me, but would secretly want to be my best friend.