Meet my crazy mom

2003-09-22T07:30:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted in a while, so here's a quick one. This just recently happened.

I love coming home from school to hear my mom say things like, "I've got something for you!" or "Guess what I got at the store today?". Mom's always got some ace up her sleeve. More accurately, she's usually got something insane like an accordion up there.

Yes, that's right. My mom thought it would be fun to bring home an accordion. On this particular day, Mom told me what she had purchased and unveiled it for me to see. It's a plastic, purple one with all kinds of buttons and bright yellow bellows. It's just lovely -- especially the harmonious music coming from it. Really, you see, I'm making my "I'm totally OK with it" face.

She then took out the instruction book that came with the thing and tried her luck at playing a few bars from such hits as "Bah, Bah Black Sheep" and "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star."

I simply can't describe to you the horror I experienced. We live in the ghetto and have no neighbors to save face with, but damn, I was terrified that someone other than me would hear this awful noise and put a stop to it (ghetto style, get it?). Our poor pets were also terrified, but for a different reason. Apparently, the accordion's sound is rather high-pitched, meaning that our animals were suffering more than I was.

My brother heard the commotion and came downstairs demanding, "What the hell is that noise?" Mom proudly perked up, stating matter-of-factly, "It's my accordion." It was almost like she wanted to say, "Duh!" after that (think Valley girl). She suggested that perhaps it would be a funny joke for my brother to give it to his boss as a gag gift. My brother thought that it would be a good way to get fired.

I'm not sure if Mom's accordion will stick around or if she's had her fun and is going to return it to the store. If she keeps it, I suppose she could join a polka band. That would give me something else to write about for you. Whichever.

Next up: UAPD meets Mom.

2003-08-11T14:02:00.000-07:00

Trash bag found, Mom says, "So that's where it was!"

As most of you know, my family is moving to a gigantic house in the ghetto. But before we move everything in, we must first fix the place up a bit.

Naturally, we've got lots of garbage to throw away. Mom and I have been living at the new house for a while, doing regular daily household activities, like cooking, that involve throwing away food scraps, wrappers and stuff. At one point, my brother started to move his stuff into the house, using (of all things to choose from) black trash bags for his clothes. This is a recipe for disaster.

On trash night, Mom takes out the garbage, then comes back in the house and asks me, "Have you seen another trash bag around here? I thought I had 3 bags, but I've only taken out 2." I tell her that I have not seen any garbage laying around. She replies, "Well, I could be wrong. You know, (sarcastically) I've never been wrong before."

So, that was it. Mom convinced me enough that she simply miscounted. But there's still a possiblility that a trash bag is MIA.

TWO MONTHS LATER, my brother decides to finally unpack his clothes and put them away. He starts tearing open these plastic bags and dumping them on the floor. Suddenly I hear, "What the hell is this?!" He comes to talk to me about his latest discovery.

"Beth, why the hell is there a bag of trash in my room?! Do you know anything about this?! My God, it smells so awful and it's all over my floor!"

Then, it clicked. Wow, Mom counted those bags correctly. My brother took one of them to his room with his bags. I break the news to my brother. Of course, he's rather upset because 1) there's stinky, two-month-old trash all over his stuff, and 2) Mom didn't bother to look for the missing garbage.

I'm just thinking how hilarious this is. Poor, brother. I think, that sucks, but this is great stuff for the blog.

Later that night I tell Mom that I'm such a talented sleuth that I've found something she's been missing for a long time. Ta-da, Mom, it's your trash! She's overjoyed, saying, "So that's where it was!"

Yes, Mom, that's where the smelly garbage disappeared to. In my brother's room, and not on the curb where it belongs. Or belonged two months ago.

**BONUS POST**

You are just that lucky today to get two stories in one entry.

Mom worked herself crazy last night trying to make everything clean and perfect around the house. By 4 a.m., she still needed to wash a couple of garments for the next day and run the dishwasher. So, because Mom likes to save time and make everything as easy as possible (despite how irrational), she decides that the dishwasher could also wash clothes. I mean, it's all soap and water, right?

Mom did half a load of dishes and half a load of laundry IN THE DISHWASHER.

My mom's nutty.

2003-08-06T14:46:00.000-07:00

There are so many good stories that I’m not sure where to start. Let’s begin with her pet squirrel, shall we?

A while ago, my mom found a baby squirrel abandoned outside somewhere in our neighborhood. Her motherly instincts (and insane behavior) kicked in, and she brought the thing in the house.

Next, she made some calls to learn how to take care of the fur ball. She then purchased a cage, food, a tiny bottle, formula, and God knows what else this critter could possibly need. Lastly, it needed a name, she decided. After much deliberation, she settled on “Goober.” Keep in mind that both of my parents have been feeding peanuts and bird food to our “woodland friends” (as my dad calls them) for quite some time now.

So, Goober regains his strength and eventually outgrows his little cage. Do we send him out into the wild? No way! My mom swears that he’s not yet big enough and would be eaten alive and then what would be the point of all she’s done for this squirrel…. Point is, before I could argue that this is a WILD ANIMAL, she releases the sucker in the house so that Goober can live in our curtains. Do you know how sharp squirrels’ claws are? Not only was all of our furniture tore up within a matter of days, but each one of us who lived in the house were all scratched up. Nice, friendly Goober was actually a vicious little beast.

Finally, it hits my mom like a brick that having a squirrel in the house is a bad idea, so she sets Goober out into the world. I think the two of them formed some kind of special bond because for the next few weeks whenever you opened the front door, there was Goober clinging to the screen door, wanting to come inside and “visit” my mom. It was so pitiful. My mom’s still broken-hearted. Good news, though. YEARS LATER Goober still jumps on the front porch to say hello when my mom sits out there on the bench. It’s really quite unbelievable. Yep, my mom had a pet squirrel.

2003-08-06T14:22:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer

In order to read this blog you must first know this:

My intention in starting this long-awaited blog is to tell everyone about the absolutely hilarious and insane things my mother does. Please understand that I love my mother very much and would never intentionally hurt her feelings.

Thing is, she knows that she does crazy things. And further, she truly understands that she is crazy at times.

My pledge is to update when my mom does things like adopt a pet squirrel, sendl the police after me because I'm an hour late, or insist (even after being shown undeniable evidence against her wild claim) that Lowe’s hardware store is really spelled “Loew’s.”

Some people tell cute-kid stories; I tell crazy-mom stories.

2003-06-05T21:06:00.000-07:00

First post. More later.