Yesterday morning I filled up the gas tank and drove to the other coast, about a two hour drive, to spend the day with my mom. We try to do this every time I have a school break, and it is extra special when my 15-year-old son, who is the light of his Grammy's life by the way, is otherwise engaged so mom and I get all of each other's attention. Such was the case yesterday, as the golden child is away at Boy Scout winter camp this week. Mom basically gives me the choice to do whatever I want, listens to me rant about all the important and unimportant things in my life, and on my brain. She looks into my face with joy and wonder, and love. It is a real shot in the arm. No pretenses, no phoniness, just me and quite possibly the person in the world who is more happy to see me than anyone else I know (Dad, my husband, and my sister might argue- they all come pretty close. But if you are a mom, you know).
As always, we went out for a lovely lunch. She took me downtown to a Vietnamese restaurant where I had a delightfully healthy dish I had never had before. I do not remember what it was called, but it had fresh shredded lettuce, julienned cucumbers and daikon radishes, combined with rice noodles and a sliced up eggroll that was only delicately wrapped, not oily and deep fried tasting. It was served with a very light, slightly sweet and spicy sauce. After lunch, we went down to the chocolatier/bakery and shared the most decadent heart-shaped chocolate truffly cake thingy. We ate it in the car, giggling the whole time about how yummy it was, and stopped at Target for some belated Christmas gifts for my nephews. We walked most of the store, collecting items along the way that mostly never made it to check out, but rather were left behind like breadcrumbs tracing my mom's steps (sorry for outting you mom!). We both picked up some comfy pajamas that were on the 40% off rack, only to find at the register that they were mismarked. Neither one of us wanted to pay the original price, nor were we willing to wait around to insist the manager honor the signs. So we paid for the toys and left.
After considering a movie, but finding nothing with a convenient time, we decided to go back to her place and just hang out until I had to head back home. It was fun. We talked about everything and nothing, and then uneventfully in conversation, I mentioned my blog. I didn't know you have a blog, she said to me. I told her I have two. She seemed delightfully surprised, as did I. It was not something I kept from her intentionally, but as I said we are not Facebook friends and that is how I post. So how could she know I have been writing. The corners of her mouth lifted, giving her the tickled look anyone who knows her would recognize. Then she looked at me and said, I was wondering what was coming next. You have been out of school for a few months, and you are always doing something. I laughed because what might seem like a jab at what my mom calls my nuginess [pronounced noo (as in book)- jee- ness] was really her affectionate way of telling me she knew that finishing my doctorate did not mean I was done.
Limited to my iphone because G-d Bless her, she did not know the password for me to access her wifi on my ipad, I read her a few of my posts. I started with the one about Christmas, showed her the poem I wrote in my post, Early; and then I read her my post, Up In Smoke because one of my friends from my writing group told me it was some of my best writing. That is when she said it. In true every-good-mom-thinks-her-kid-is-brilliant form, you should send these in somewhere. I had to laugh, and then I asked her where. I only wondered where my mom meant for me to send them. She had no idea where she wanted me to send them, but she said it was really good. There was the ego boost. We talked about my writing and she told me my face is really animated and lights up when I talk about writing. Does anyone ever know you better than your mom?
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