This morning. Ring, Ring…..
Me: Hi Mom, What’s up?
Mom: Oh it is not good, I am having a really bad day. I am so stressed out.
Me: Why? What happened? (taking my anti-anxiety medication and walking over to the refrigerator).
Mom: I cannot get my figurines arranged. Nothing looks cute this year like it did last year.
Me: That is awful (stuffing a stick of butter in my mouth to ease my mounting emotional distress).
Mom: I am serious Erin. I have friends coming into town next weekend and this is my only day to make my house look perfect.
Me: I understand completely, your arthritis must be flaring up big time. (Covering the receiver and eating a bagel).
Mom: It is and to make matters worse I don’t know where on earth to put those creepy looking elves and I cannot find Baby Jesus from your dead Aunt Aileen’s nativity scene! Can you come over and help me?
Me: You want me to come over and help you find Jesus?
Mom: Listen Smartass, I don’t think it is asking too much. I gave birth to you remember.
Me: Yeah, thanks for that. Living has been a riot. So you are preying on my guilt to entice me to help set up figurines?
Mom: Yes and bring the dogs. (Note: Not the kids because they could obviously jeopardize the safety of the figurines).
My Stepfather in the Background: Laurie- Remember when you got in that car accident years ago and broke your sternum driving to the mall to get more figurines. (Me choking on a bagel and leaning over a chair to perform the Heimlich on myself).
Mom: Shut Up Bob. Those pieces were being discontinued the following year and I had to get them. (We are all 3 laughing now).
Me: Okay, say I am your favorite child and I will come out this afternoon.
Mom: You’re my favorite child (preoccupied and cold).
Mom: Oh yeah, one more thing, did I tell you grandma doesn’t have cancer!
Me: That’s great news! What a relief that must be for you.
Mom: I love you, drive safe. Don’t blog about this.
Me: Okay I won’t (chill, she doesn’t know what the internet is).
Have a good day everyone. I really hope I do find Jesus and my mom doesn’t have to spend Christmas in the psych ward. XO