Da Mom Diggity

My mother has a policy of me texting her and my Dad if and when I travel anywhere to let them know of my safe arrival. Totally always trendy in the (immigrant?) parenting world at any age or stage of life. If that means a text when I get to the grocery store that’s located on the far side of town, so be it.

They still expect this small and easy task of me even though I no longer live in their house and, in fact, live 3000 miles across the country. It’s the least I can do. Really. Just let a motha know!

However, it was much to my surprise and delight that I received a text from mommaroo the other day in this exact vein (not paraphrasing, this is the real deal): “Just landed in Chicago.”

Not only did I have no idea my parents were going to Chicago or why, but I had no idea that my mother holds herself to the same high standards that she espouses in me. So I wrote back “It’s about time!” to keep the mood light and the sentiments fresh.

P.S. This is my favorite audience for jokes these days. OBVI I use them for bringer shows too. They’re not huge drinkers, but they are huge winkers.

Mother, May I Phone a Friend?

My mom, this morning: What’s a nice word for hag?

I wasn’t even close to awake yet, but my neurons processed and then clung to that question as if it were a lifeboat sailing toward the new day.

She later clarified she was working on a birthday card for a friend. EVEN BESTER.

Yes Aparna, There Is a Spam-ta Clause

This morning I had to take on a Gen-Y damage control shift because my mother (classy immigrant Baby Boomer that she is) accidentally joined a spammy social networking site via her email account, and it notified her entire contact list that they better be her friend or they would each hurt her feelings real bad 🙁 (the social networking site included the frowny face; it was not my idea). So this message went out to all her esteemed colleagues who, for doctors, have surprisingly creative email addresses, i.e., Dr. Peter Fergenbottom is fergie4eva67wutwut@MDeez.com.

Anyway, despite the crippling restrictions of her Wahoo email account including no more than five emails allowed to be sent per hour (Gmail: SAY WHAT?!), we managed to navigate to social success and liberation for all. Not before she got a couple notifications from so-and-so doctor who accepted her friend request. Pahaahaahahaaaaa!

Now she wants me to help her cancel her account on this social networking site. Oh but why, mater, we were just starting to have a little fun…at least upload a profile pic first before you leave so soon.