The Mommy Person (And Granny Person and Great Aunt Person) is better than you (and me and probably anyone else you know)
My Mommy Person sent me a thank you card. She'd already pre-warned me it was coming in the mail as she is the world's sweetest murderer of all surprises.
Like when she and my father predicted my starter marriage wasn't going to work out. Thanks guys. Thanks bundles.
Anyway, the card was for the birthday present I made for her last month, something that would further allow for people to love to hate her for pretty much the rest of her days. And knowing her, she'll probably live forever so everyone can hate her for that too.
For her birthday I wrote her biography and had it bound to look like those celebrity biographies she likes to buy when they finally make it to Big Lots or the dollar store. Yes. She owns "Monica's Story" and "Theo (That's "Theo Huxtable," folks)" all for the low-low price of a dollar.
The present was a joint project between myself, my two sisters and my Aunt Sheila, who is asking me to email her a copy of the thing to give to my grandmother. I know this is so Granny, can overtly use it to make people jealous of her. Since you don't know about this and I like to drone on endlessly about my life because I'm self-absorbed and you're all feeding my fragile ego, my Granny likes to show off in a big, big way. I keep thinking that if I send her a copy of Mama's Biography she will literally carry it in her purse and throw it at people while shouting, "Look what my what my perfect grandbaby made for my perfect daughter! Did I tell you she was perfect? By the way, I'm 77, I look 67, I'm 5-foot-7 and I look GREAT in heels. Watch me walk in them over your back!"
And after doing her best to make people love to hate her she will defiantly (and very un-PC) announce that ... err ... "Black folks don't want you have anything!" (She actually says that much snappier and cruder, but ... um, email me if you can't figure it out.) This is a woman who wants me to be on "Wheel of Fortune" because A) She thinks I'd "be good at guessing those letters" B) I'm a journalist, "why aren't you on CNN already?" C) I need new stuff to brag about.
I'm not kidding. Every woman in my mother's family (accept my mother and her sister) are like this. My great aunt brags on me. I'm her grand niece, people. She has three sons and several grandchildren to lord of people, but hey, she's greedy. So there she is, right next to my grandmother, her sister, helping her lob that book at people while running her charity group and daycare while keeping an immaculate home and fixing dinner for her husband because, well, she's better than you and she just thought you should know that. (You know? Just in case you couldn't tell from her gorgeous southern home or how her speech is impeccable or how straight and blinding white all her original teeth are.)
My mother likes to show off, but not nearly as obviously. She always comes off as genuine, like she just thought you might like to know that her daughters gave her a frickin' biography as a birthday present and threw her a surprise party, which is like, she can't remember, but probably the third time her kids have thrown either herself or her husband or both of them some kind of ridiculous "Thanks For All The Yelling" shindig. She was just stopping by, you know, in her black outfit that makes her look slim with her giant, perfect white teeth and freckles and she made you German chocolate cake from scratch "just because" and a wreath to hang on your door that coincides with whatever holiday/season/event/motif is going on. And while she's feeding you that cake and being unbelievably nice you find yourself innocently asking how she's doing and you learn that her biggest problems start with "n" and "othing." And she's so darn happy and pleasant and kind and nurturing and she has no wrinkles and drives a Lincoln and it's amazing no one has killed her by now.
She's one amazingly charming woman. It's what allowed her to survive when she was all young and incredibly good looking and it allows her to survive now that she's entered that "cute little old lady" stage. And she'll play "cute little old lady" in a minute if it means she can continue her 27 year streak of never pumping her own gas.
Anyway, because my mother is perfect in a way that should cause people to kill her, but they don't because she's so perfect that you end up really liking her because she really is a nice person, she is the sort of woman who (OF COURSE) sends out "thank you" cards. No one does that anymore, but she does because she really does appreciate you. Really. She's not just saying that. She doesn't even know you and she already loves you, all of you reading the blog right now.
She loves you in that "We Are the World" sort of way. That is unless her weird Spidey sense tells her not to and that thing has NEVER been wrong, thus adding to her magic elfin powers. Did I mention she's only three apples high? Like a Smurf and she wiggles when she hugs you? Like a Smurf?
My mom's a Smurf, ya'll!"
But because I like to tease my loving, patient and ever tolerant of me family, I just felt compelled (ego + "nerd outcast childhood" = feed me) to print what my mother wrote to me in my thank you note because, I mean, really, she's a Smurf. You'll read this and you'll think my childhood consisted of lots of cuddling and hugs (which it did, just with more yelling. You don't get this mouthy without yelling). And for whatever reason, my family is heavy on the "love you" stuff, so, take some Tums or something. It's just something we do in writing and in practice and all the time. It's like it doesn't count if you don't say it three or fifteen times.
Here it is ...
Hello my Number 2 Babe,
You worked so hard. Thanks. I love my book. You are the best. I am so happy that you are my daughter. I love you so much. You will always have my love. You made my birthday wonderful and one I will always remember. You made me feel special. Kiss my cat for me! (Random cat shout-out since I'm not producing grandbabies right now.)
(And here comes my self-esteem booster, "You're not a loser! Really!" shout-out that only moms, grandmothers and bragging great aunts are allowed to do ...)
I know deep down one day that you'll met that special guy in your life because you are a special person.
Love, Mama
And then she TOTALLY stuck a black bridesmaid Barbie sticker on there. No lie, people. She's there, staring at me like, "I totally believe in you! You can get a man! Really! There is a Ken doll out there with all the icky guy parts sanded down, all smooth and paved over waiting for you in a pink convertible and a dream house!
And you know what else was inside the card?
A "Dear Abby" column listing the "warning signs" of recognizing a "woman abuser."
The more you know the more you grow, chickadees!
-------------
Do you have an unnaturally perfect person in your life? A person who is successfully married, well-off and just plain better than you and you can't bring yourself to hate her because she almost died giving birth to you so you just have to suck it up and take it?
Please share ... this is where the healing begins.
Like when she and my father predicted my starter marriage wasn't going to work out. Thanks guys. Thanks bundles.
Anyway, the card was for the birthday present I made for her last month, something that would further allow for people to love to hate her for pretty much the rest of her days. And knowing her, she'll probably live forever so everyone can hate her for that too.
For her birthday I wrote her biography and had it bound to look like those celebrity biographies she likes to buy when they finally make it to Big Lots or the dollar store. Yes. She owns "Monica's Story" and "Theo (That's "Theo Huxtable," folks)" all for the low-low price of a dollar.
The present was a joint project between myself, my two sisters and my Aunt Sheila, who is asking me to email her a copy of the thing to give to my grandmother. I know this is so Granny, can overtly use it to make people jealous of her. Since you don't know about this and I like to drone on endlessly about my life because I'm self-absorbed and you're all feeding my fragile ego, my Granny likes to show off in a big, big way. I keep thinking that if I send her a copy of Mama's Biography she will literally carry it in her purse and throw it at people while shouting, "Look what my what my perfect grandbaby made for my perfect daughter! Did I tell you she was perfect? By the way, I'm 77, I look 67, I'm 5-foot-7 and I look GREAT in heels. Watch me walk in them over your back!"
And after doing her best to make people love to hate her she will defiantly (and very un-PC) announce that ... err ... "Black folks don't want you have anything!" (She actually says that much snappier and cruder, but ... um, email me if you can't figure it out.) This is a woman who wants me to be on "Wheel of Fortune" because A) She thinks I'd "be good at guessing those letters" B) I'm a journalist, "why aren't you on CNN already?" C) I need new stuff to brag about.
I'm not kidding. Every woman in my mother's family (accept my mother and her sister) are like this. My great aunt brags on me. I'm her grand niece, people. She has three sons and several grandchildren to lord of people, but hey, she's greedy. So there she is, right next to my grandmother, her sister, helping her lob that book at people while running her charity group and daycare while keeping an immaculate home and fixing dinner for her husband because, well, she's better than you and she just thought you should know that. (You know? Just in case you couldn't tell from her gorgeous southern home or how her speech is impeccable or how straight and blinding white all her original teeth are.)
My mother likes to show off, but not nearly as obviously. She always comes off as genuine, like she just thought you might like to know that her daughters gave her a frickin' biography as a birthday present and threw her a surprise party, which is like, she can't remember, but probably the third time her kids have thrown either herself or her husband or both of them some kind of ridiculous "Thanks For All The Yelling" shindig. She was just stopping by, you know, in her black outfit that makes her look slim with her giant, perfect white teeth and freckles and she made you German chocolate cake from scratch "just because" and a wreath to hang on your door that coincides with whatever holiday/season/event/motif is going on. And while she's feeding you that cake and being unbelievably nice you find yourself innocently asking how she's doing and you learn that her biggest problems start with "n" and "othing." And she's so darn happy and pleasant and kind and nurturing and she has no wrinkles and drives a Lincoln and it's amazing no one has killed her by now.
She's one amazingly charming woman. It's what allowed her to survive when she was all young and incredibly good looking and it allows her to survive now that she's entered that "cute little old lady" stage. And she'll play "cute little old lady" in a minute if it means she can continue her 27 year streak of never pumping her own gas.
Anyway, because my mother is perfect in a way that should cause people to kill her, but they don't because she's so perfect that you end up really liking her because she really is a nice person, she is the sort of woman who (OF COURSE) sends out "thank you" cards. No one does that anymore, but she does because she really does appreciate you. Really. She's not just saying that. She doesn't even know you and she already loves you, all of you reading the blog right now.
She loves you in that "We Are the World" sort of way. That is unless her weird Spidey sense tells her not to and that thing has NEVER been wrong, thus adding to her magic elfin powers. Did I mention she's only three apples high? Like a Smurf and she wiggles when she hugs you? Like a Smurf?
My mom's a Smurf, ya'll!"
But because I like to tease my loving, patient and ever tolerant of me family, I just felt compelled (ego + "nerd outcast childhood" = feed me) to print what my mother wrote to me in my thank you note because, I mean, really, she's a Smurf. You'll read this and you'll think my childhood consisted of lots of cuddling and hugs (which it did, just with more yelling. You don't get this mouthy without yelling). And for whatever reason, my family is heavy on the "love you" stuff, so, take some Tums or something. It's just something we do in writing and in practice and all the time. It's like it doesn't count if you don't say it three or fifteen times.
Here it is ...
Hello my Number 2 Babe,
You worked so hard. Thanks. I love my book. You are the best. I am so happy that you are my daughter. I love you so much. You will always have my love. You made my birthday wonderful and one I will always remember. You made me feel special. Kiss my cat for me! (Random cat shout-out since I'm not producing grandbabies right now.)
(And here comes my self-esteem booster, "You're not a loser! Really!" shout-out that only moms, grandmothers and bragging great aunts are allowed to do ...)
I know deep down one day that you'll met that special guy in your life because you are a special person.
Love, Mama
And then she TOTALLY stuck a black bridesmaid Barbie sticker on there. No lie, people. She's there, staring at me like, "I totally believe in you! You can get a man! Really! There is a Ken doll out there with all the icky guy parts sanded down, all smooth and paved over waiting for you in a pink convertible and a dream house!
And you know what else was inside the card?
A "Dear Abby" column listing the "warning signs" of recognizing a "woman abuser."
The more you know the more you grow, chickadees!
-------------
Do you have an unnaturally perfect person in your life? A person who is successfully married, well-off and just plain better than you and you can't bring yourself to hate her because she almost died giving birth to you so you just have to suck it up and take it?
Please share ... this is where the healing begins.
posted by Danielle Belton @ 4:10 PM
1 Comments:
At 9:49 AM,
Danielle Belton said…
I read the "Monica's Story" too. I borrowed it once for a plane flight. And thank you for providing proof that our family is crazy with the "I love yous" as you have stuck it in your "blogment."
I LOVE YOU TOO IN A BIG AND POTENTIALLY EMBARASSING WAY!
Post a Comment
<< Home