Weekends with Mom

Make no mistake, I love my mom. Generally, she’s the least mom-like mom in the history of momdom. However, she does have her momlike moments. For instance, Friday morning.
“how old are you? how young am i. . . ” it was my cellphone ringing. I groped, eyes-closed for the phone on my nighttable. “Hello.” I mumbled.
“What are you doing?” Mom asked.
“Sleeping,” I said.
“What?”
“Sleeping.”
“I thought you were going to the State Fair,” she said.
“MOOOMM.” I turned into a 14-year-old instantly. “We don’t have to be to Sister #2’s until 8 a.m.”
“It’s almost 7:30.”
“It takes about 6 minutes to get there.”
“I’ll be over in 15 minutes,” she said.
“Fine.” I hung up.

Of course she also had her moments of anti-momdom this weekend. I’m sick. I knew on Friday I was getting sick, and the cold blossomed yesterday. Today she stopped by to drop off my camera case.
“How are you?” she asked as she sat down.
“I’m sick,” I said, making my voice weak and fluttering my eyes. I needed a little bit of mom sympathy.
“Oh, that’s too bad.” She stood up from the couch and zipped her purse shut. “Well, I’m going to get out of here, I don’t want to catch whatever you got.”
“Gee, thanks.” I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster.
“Hope you feel better,” she said as she shut the door.

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