Mother’s Day

By Saturday, April 26, 2014 0 No tags Permalink 1

On Thursday I was en route home from that lobster salad lunch in Philadelphia and I thought, “Why don’t I call my mom?” I was on the train and it seemed like a good enough idea. She’s a Philadelphian after all – born in Hollywood, but raised on 16th and Locust. Well, not raised exactly, but close enough. My call wasn’t really about hearing what she was up to. I really just wanted her to tell me how great my blog was; you know, that “I still need my Mom’s approval” kind of thing.

Instead she told me a wild and woebegone story about a willful washing machine. Mom doesn’t do new appliances well. Apparently the new washing machine that was acquired maybe two months ago has already broken. Repair man was to have shown that day, but he called in “sick” and now wouldn’t come until next Wednesday. Clothes are piling up. Bottom line: could she come over and use my washing machine sometime over the next few days.

Of course! Perfect! Yes, in fact, I’m away at the seashore all weekend so you can come to my house, use the garage-door keypad and enter anytime you want. Literally – from Friday to Sunday, mi casa es su casa!

That wasn’t going to wash.

She wants me to be there when she’s doing the laundry. She wouldn’t be comfortable with me not being there. Huh? So now watching my mother do her laundry is on my list of To-do’s? This made no sense and (do I need to actually say) the conversation didn’t go particularly well. (She hadn’t really read my blog so I wasn’t getting any honey there.)

And then it hit me. This was a mother/daughter story of the female corporate traveler and the mother who misses her. My mother is always angling for how we can spend time together. She is masterful at this, by the way. In a few weeks she will make gazpacho and suggest I come over for lunch to have some. I cannot resist gazpacho. She’ll throw in some deviled eggs just to seal the deal. She will find a lecture on Russian faberge eggs and suggest I come over to go with her. She’s been trying for years to get me to go to her _______ (fill in the blank: hairdresser, eye doctor, dermatologist, dentist, etc.). And then we could go out for lunch right after!

So, I’m now reserving Monday at 3:00 p.m. for a laundry fest and I guess a little mother/daughter time. I guess it makes sense. I have a daughter who will be turning 21 in a few weeks. I know all her likes and you can be sure – if she’s ever a female corporate traveler, I will be enticing her to visit with shrimp cocktail, tuna sushi, and lox.

Please share if your mother misses you and how she lets you know!

 

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