Funny Yet Accurate

As Karen and Nai know, because they have met my mother, she is a very interesting woman. Now sometimes when people only know of my mother through my stories (and, I assume, my brother's stories) they have the impression that they wouldn't like my mother. But, my mother is in fact very popular. She raisees millions of dollars by being charming. Unfortunately, her mothering skills are a little, well, un-maternal.

My mother, as I think I have mentioned before, has four great hatreds in her life: (this list is in no particular order)

1. Catholics
2. Vegetarians
3. Musicians
4. Teachers

Raymond is 2-4. When I met Raymond, I was none of the above, but have since become number 2 and now, as of Tuesday, I will be in training to be number 4. I am seriously considering converting just to get a clean sweep. My mother would have a real dilemna on her hands if she had vegetarian Catholic grandchildren. It is really, really tempting. Other than that belief in God thing, I am so there!

My brother, G, is none of those, but his girl friend is number 2, and he likes music, so he is a little bit of number 3.

Unlike normal people, my mother loves the lawyers. Why? Because my father, whom she worships, is one. Does she know what lawyers do? Not really. But, in her mind they generally make a lot of money and they are "smart" (again, my mother doesn't know enough lawyers, clearly) so she is all for them.

Teachers, on the other hand are dumb. Especially elementary school teachers. She is concerned that I will be so much smarter than my collegues that we will not be able to relate. My mother, if it is not clear, thinks in extremes. She knows that teachers are dumb because she was in a sorority with a lot of elementary education teachers. And she thought her "sisters" who were that major were dumb and all they did all day long was make bulletin boards. Which in 1965 may have been true, at least the bulletin board part, but what I like is that my mother is so "smart" that her sample size of 6 rich girls who double majored in MRS is sufficiently large enough, in her opinion, to extrapolate that all elemetary school teachers are dumb. My mother did not major in statistics, although with that logic she could work as a statistician for either major American polical party.

I didn't tell her for over a year that I was planning this career change, because, when your husband is 3 of the 4 things your mother hates most in the world (notice that Nazis, KKK members, or oatmeal-raisin cookies are not on the list) you tread lightly. When I did tell her she acted all shocked like "Little ol' me...would be upset or disappointed that you were going into teaching...why would you ever think that darlin'????" Of course the next day she was trying to talk me out of it, giving me all sorts of career advice. My mother is a career counselor too, it seems. She thinks I am leaving the law because I think that lawyers have to work too many hours. Although I have told her that I am leaving the law because I don't like being a lawyer and becausee I want to be a teacher, she can't seem to understand it. So, in case you didn't know, my mother informs me that there are some lawyers who work part-time. My mother knows twenty of them and she is happy to put me in touch with them.

Because my program starts at the end of June but apartments tend to lease at the beginning of each month, I am up here without Saint Raymond (see below) for a week. Conveniently, Nai lives in the same New England town where I will be in school, so I am staying with him. In exchange, he verbally abuses me. I see it as a pretty good deal on my part. My mother, who does not call much, left a rather cryptic sounding message on Nai's answering machine. Assuming someone had died, I called back My father answered, and assured me that no one was dead, my mother had just called to check-in with me. But, she was eating, and would I call back?

When I did call back, my mother wanted to know how my trip was (fine) and if I had seen our new apartment (only from the outside) and why I hadn't gotten to see the inside (because someone else lives there right now) and why they couldn't arrange for me to have a look-see (because I was going to do that Friday) and why not just today (because the agent probably has acutal work to do and not huge amounts of time to run around showing me apartments at my whim.) Oh. (So, Mom, how's the weather?)

She then asked me about my program, which is sort of our thing -- we talk about the same things over and over and over. It never seems to get old for her. I had told her all about the program before, but, I discovered from this conversation that she didn't quite grasp it. Here's how it went down --

Mom: So, Maaaac (which is the nickname she calls me...the "a" is very, very drawn out. Feel free to draw out all of her "a's", it will be a far more authentic experience that way), where will you teach?

Me: At the lab school.

Mom: So, it's a private preschool at the University?

Me: Mom, do you think I am going to school to become a preschool teacher?

Mom: Well, (hesitating...the witnesses realizes that she might be walking into a trap) yes? Aren't you?

Me: No, Mooooom (in my most exasporated teen voice) El-e-men-ta-ry school. We have talked about this.

Mom: But, I thought....oh Mac. I'm sorry. Don't hold this against me. I didn't know. Elementary school. (In the background you can hear my father saying..."C, I told you...")

Me: El-e-men-ta-ry Mom. Get it?

So the conversation then centered around my mother finding ways to excuse her "memory lapse." Least you think that my mother is going senile, next she inquired about Nai (whom she has met about 4 times), asking:

So, how's Nai's residency program in pediatrics going?

Oh, well. At least she cares about something.