A couple of years ago a guy named Justin Halpern got a book published, called Sh*t My Dad Says. It was based on series of real quotes from his father's salty witticisms posted to his Twitter feed. A whole bunch of copies of the book sold and it was even made into a short lived TV show. I know all of this because I looked it up. I'm bitter. Halpern beat me to the punch. I could probably get a book out of sh*t my mother says. But, it's already been done.
My life changed considerably when we moved my mother to Colorado 2 years, 6 months, 13 days, 5 hours, and 17 minutes ago. Not that I'm keeping track. It is just that when I was 24-years old, I moved from nearly one side of the continent to the other in the hopes that might it feel far enough away to keep her from driving me crazy. Finally able to take full breaths of air into my lungs for the first time in my life, I thought I'd never, ever have to deal with her on a day-to-day basis again. I had no idea that somewhere down the road I'd come face-to-face with once again living within five miles of her. Only this time, I'm responsible for a good bit of her care. If I'd had warning, I'm pretty sure it would have been in the form of a creepy, ominous, Dickensian specter.
Anyway, she is here. In living color.
Just prior to Thanksgiving she fell. I received a call about it, but I was assured she was just fine. At the time I thought it was weird that a frail 84-year old could fall and then bounce right back (after having non-emergency lift come to her rescue). But, then this is my mother, so who am I to question something odd. By the next morning, however, it was evident that she wasn't just fine so I loaded her in the car and took her to the emergency room where it was discovered that she had a broken pelvic bone. Since there wasn't anything to be done about her situation, she stayed in the hospital for a couple of days and was then released to go back home where she could utilize her 'electric chair,' a motorized scooter she uses to terrorize those people whom she considers more elderly and feeble than herself. It is like she and Darwin sat down to tea one day and discussed survival of the fittest and she decided to be the last one standing. Or sitting. In the electric chair.
Her lack of mobility presented a problem when it came to Thanksgiving day at my house, however. Too many stairs. She couldn't come and spend the day with us so we opted, instead, to go en masse to visit her for a little while. My mother's conversation can be a bit bizarre and I noticed while visiting her, all three of my children had their phones out. I considered saying something but then I decided not to. A spoon full of sugar and all that.
What I didn't realize was, they were banding together and surreptitiously taking real-time quotes from my mother's soliloquy and posting them to a thread on Facebook for the enjoyment of others.
On her current boyfriend whose ex-girlfriend is jealous: "I don't get jealous, I just get even." - grandma
On my suggestion that due to a lack of men she might turn her affections to the abundance of women: "I haven't found a woman hot enough to convince me to change my mind." - grandma
On never wanting to give up her 'party-girl' status: "Oh Parker, we can get high on that marijuana now! It's legal after all." - grandma
On her former boyfriend, the raging alcoholic: "Oh my neighbor complained about me makin' too much noise in the bedroom." - grandma
If I thought my mother would be uncomfortable about their coping strategy I would discourage my children from making her comments public, but I'm fully confident she would embrace the notoriety.
While visiting my mother might not be considered the worst of situations, it can have its challenging moments. I find myself weirdly proud of my children for turning a rather arduous visit into something funny and sharing it for others to enjoy.
So fine. Halpern did it first and got a book deal. Seeing my children's gleeful comradery, however, makes me feel a little less bitter.
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