Please Don't Interrupt Jeopardy

I'm addicted to Jeopardy. I shout out the answers even when I am alone. I get increasingly louder as the show progresses.

Usually, I do not answer the phone while it is on. I enjoy that 30 minutes.

Last night, my mother felt the need to tell me something IMMEDIATELY. Of course, this was right before the Final Jeopardy question.

I found the nerve this morning to ask her to please not do it again.

Weight and Mothers

This is an observation and most definitely NOT a dig at mothers.

During my childhood, several of my friend's mothers struggled with their weight, including my own mother.

There's an old saying, "If you want to know what your wife will look like in 20 years, look at her mother." I wish that were true. I would be beautiful.

But I stood next to two friends last weekend while we celebrated our childhood and it struck me that we were the smallest women in the yard. One has birthed two children, one has birthed three. One of my mother's best jokes is she's still trying to lose her pregnancy weight -- I'm 45.

Sometimes we choose to emulate our mothers. I try. Right after, "What would Jesus do?," I ask myself, "What would my mother tell me to do?" Other times, we go to the opposite extreme. It's a little like saying, "I'm not you and you can't make me."

Good Luck Charms

Some people carry a four-leaf clover or a rabbit's foot. I would tell you I'm not superstitious but if you've read previous posts, you know it's not true. I also carry something with me or have it nearby.

The picture above is my good luck charm. It's my mother on the beach. It's the size of a postage stamp and it's weathered and time worn. Sometimes I pull it out of my pocket or my nightstand and ask, "What should I do?" Sometimes I make faces at it and say, "Ha Ha -- You can't make me!" Sometimes I forget to look at her; I just look at the water and understand why I tie my love of the water with my mother's love.

Sometimes I can crack up noticing that our bodies may have changed but yes, those are our legs in that swimsuit.

I like to think that I invented "Birthday Week." All it means is that you can do or say whatever you want. When I was talking to my mother the other day, she said, "Don't mess with me. It's my birthday week."

Yes, Mom, it is. You may not like the attention but I could line up scores of people who adore you. I could name child after child that you have influenced.

From a simple child who carries this photo as her good luck charm, Happy Birthday week and thank you.

And Yet, She Annoys Me

I try to be a faithful and dutiful daughter. I would gnaw off my arm for any person I love. That includes parents, children and friends.

What is it with mothers and daughters?

How can I spend an entire day anticipating time with my parents and then within 30 seconds, I want to strangle her with my bare hands? (Just maim her.) It takes less than five seconds for her to make a critical comment. In the next second, I begin making faces and rolling my eyes.

We spent the evening together Saturday night. I had the water mister out so the dog would behave. My mother spritzed the dog because she had the nerve to look at her.

My dad plays referee. He says things like, "Well, here we go. Fasten your seat belts, this should be fun."

Thankfully, my pseudo sister was here too. She's a great diversion, a good card player and she makes me laugh.

My mother only birthed one child. She repeatedly called me by my sister's name.