Well since a few of my other blog buddies are talking about their moms, I guess I'll do it too, just a few days late. I touched on before how crazy my mom is and I'm afraid this post, too, only reveals the tiniest tip of the crazy iceberg that my mom is, but it's a good place to start.
Things said at the lunch table while sharing KFC original recipe with my family on Mothers Day:
Me: "Mom, can you hem some pants for me? I swear I wore them last year but now they're too long. Maybe I only wore them with heels last year."
Molly: "Yeah, or maybe you're shrinking."
Mom: "Oh no she's not. She's getting taller."
Ah, the age old, "You need to pray and ask God to make you taller" debate. My mom will not drop this. About a year ago she said this to me and I have repeatedly told her that I'm not going to pray for that because a) God has better things to do than to field questions from me about the body HE created, b) if I, in fact, do pray for this, and if, in fact, God does answer that prayer and makes me taller, then my pants, which my mother and just about every other seamstress in this town has hemmed and tailored to fit my stumpy legs, won't fit, and c) my mom is crazy. But I've mentioned that before.
Next came this:
Mom: "I looked and looked in the card section for a card from a mom to her son or daughter but just couldn't find any!" (And no, she's not talking about the ones you give if your daughter has had a child - because me nor my 3 other siblings have had children.)
Me: "Well, I'm not surprised by that at all. Moms don't give their children cards on Mothers Day. Children give their moms cards on Mothers Day."
I'm serious folks, this only touches the tip of the crazy iceberg. I think I'll start carrying around a tape recorder when I'm with her. As crazy as she is, I must say that I try my hardest to look past the crazy and love her inspite of it. It's difficult sometimes, but I do try. And I do love her very much.
I'll leave you with this:
It's Christmas time and we're all digging into our stockings. I had dropped some Dove dark chocolate in everyone's stockings and my mom pulled one out: "Oh, I just love dark chocolate. It's so much better for you than milk chocolate. Peyton (the one who put the dark chocolate in the stocking) if you don't like dark chocolate, you should pray and ask God to make you like it."