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Posts Tagged ‘Moms’

  1. An Interview With My Mom

    May 8, 2016 by C.

    Hope all the Moms out there have a wonderful day!

    Hope all the Moms out there have a wonderful day!

     

    Wow, long time no blog. I know, I know. But I have been BUSY! I am currently working on a book of my Typewriter Wisdoms and hope to have it released this fall. The Facebook fan page has taken off and takes up an enormous amount of time…but so worth it!

    I usually try to have my Mom write a blog post for Mother’s Day but the peeps from Facebook are so interested in her I thought it would be fun to have them send in some questions for her to answer and they did! Hope you all enjoy!

    1. From Pam Geeting Smith-What did you crave while pregnant with Chanin? How long were you in labor, was it a difficult birth? Was Chanin a difficult child or an angel?

    I craved fresh fruit and fruit juices when I was pregnant with Chanin. I was in labor (1st pain to here she is) for 11 hours. My little 8 lb. 11 oz. bundle of joy came breech (this I will never let her forget).
    She was the very best baby, a really good child growing up. Now her sister was totally the opposite.

    Hahahahahahahaha too bad for the little sister! (Editor’s note).

    2. From Shelley James— What is your proudest moment with Chanin?

    I don’t know that there is only one really proud moment, but her graduation from college would be right up there. Chanin worked full-time in my Dad’s restaurant starting from the age of 12, until we sold it. She was working 60 hours a week through college. Not many people could do that and get their degree, but she did it.

    3. From Maiya the Maniac—When you say your first curse word? When did Chanin?

    I didn’t swear until my 1st year in college. Chanin, on the other hand, was around 2-years-old. That’s all I really want to say about that.

    4. From Patricia Colville—What was the most embarrassing moment your daughter got you into?

    The day before my mother was coming for a visit, Chanin’s dad and I got into a very heated argument during dinner. Things went very fast. I believe I threw the pan of biscuits at him and he grabbed me and was restraining my hands. Unfortunately, Chanin saw this. Things got under control and quieted down. Divorce was not even mentioned during the argument. Her Dad and I both were ashamed of ourselves and we both tried to reassure her that this would never happen again. She seemed fine the next morning and her Dad and I were fine. I drove to Nashville to pick up my Mom around 10 am. Around 1 pm that afternoon, I received a call from the school principal, a personal friend of Charlie and I. He said Chanin had started crying at rest time after lunch telling her teacher that her Mom and Dad had a fight and that her Grandma was coming to take her, her sister and her Mom to Oklahoma because we were getting divorced. The teacher was upset, the principal was upset, Chanin was upset, I was upset and had to tell my Mom the whole thing. I had to go to the principal’s office!!! I was truly embarrassed as I should have been.

    5. From Deborah “The Artist” Lyons—-What is the first thing you would do during the zombie apocalypse?

    *laughs*

    Well, I have never really thought about it much. I guess I would just have to bend over and kiss my ass goodbye.

    Thanks everyone for sending in the questions!

    My Mom is a super awesome lady and has worked her butt off to take care of my sister and I. She spoils the hell out of her grandkids. She has never once asked for anything in return. And for that, I thank her because I am poor.

    Happy Mother’s Day, to the best Mom on the planet! I love you!

     


  2. Don’t Call Me Erma

    February 19, 2014 by C.

    She also wore pearls...I don't wear pearls.

    She also wore pearls…I don’t wear pearls.

     

     

     

    My mom had been bugging me for over a week to come over and watch a show she taped about Erma Bombeck.

    My responses indicated just how excited I was about watching the show.

    “Um, I am really busy tonight.”

    “Boy, I am so tired…I think I need to go to bed.”

    “It’s not even seven o’clock,” she replied.

    “I have so much homework to do tonight.”

    “Chanin, you haven’t been in school since 1995,” she replied.

    I thought she was getting senile and would forget these details.

    Then one night she invited me over for dinner. Here is what you need to know about me…if you feed me, I will love you forever (unless your food is shitty…you will know it is shitty if you try to invite me for dinner after the first time and I turn you down…I don’t turn down good home-cooked meals EVER). She was cooking beans and cornbread…oh hell yea, I am there.

    I walked in her house and she had a TV tray set up in front of the TV. She had me fix my plate and the minute I sat down, she pushed play on the Erma Bombeck special.

    My mom has been after me for quite some time to become more like Erma Bombeck with my writing. I have never read much of anything Erma wrote, but I have heard of her and know that she was considered pretty awesome back in the day (the TV special confirmed this). But Erma and I are so different. She was a married housewife and I am not. She had three kids and I have none (please don’t feel the need to donate one of your children to me…I’m not interested). She wrote in an era when divorce, cursing and women working were looked down upon…big time. The fact that in some of the sentences I speak I leave out the f-word makes me pretty tame in today’s society.

    It seems it breaks my mom’s heart that I curse so much in my writing. My Inappropriate Elf photos bother her because they can sometimes be, well, inappropriate.

    So I want to take a moment and address this…I was not raised this way. I came from two great parents that taught me right from wrong and gave me everything I needed to become the awesome adult I am today. My cursing and inappropriateness has absolutely nothing to do with my upbringing. I feel bad that this disappoints my mom, but I also feel like I need to be me…not Erma.

    When you visit my blog or Facebook fan page and think to yourself, “who raised this lunatic?” It was Charlie and Clarissa. They did everything right…I just somehow got warped along the way.

    The important thing to know is I am really happy with my warps and I hope you can accept me as I am.


  3. Memories of Mema

    May 12, 2013 by C.

    Mema loved reading her newspaper first thing in the morning.

    Mema loved reading her newspaper first thing in the morning.

     

    It is that time again, a blog post from my mom on Mother’s Day. Happy Mother’s Day to all of you mamas out there!

     

    As Chanin’s mother and now her annual guest blogger, I am here to speak of my memories of my children. But I’ve decided to change it up a bit and talk about my mother, Mema.

     

    My mother became Mema to everyone when Chanin was born. I wanted Chanin to call her Nana, but mom was determined her moniker would be Mema. She won.

     

    She and my dad were so excited to become grandparents they could not stop talking about it and preparing for it. We lived in Tennessee and would visit quite often so Mema set up everything in duplicate at her house. Every piece of baby equipment, bedding, cloth diapers, bottles, etc was all lined up and ready for use each time we visited. All I had to do was load the diaper bag and our clothes.

    Mema would pick us up at the airport in Tulsa and drive straight to Papa’s office in Quapaw, OK. She and Papa would be so excited to see Chanin.

    Mema with Chanin and Brennen

    Mema with Chanin and Brennen

     

    Mema also dug out my Singer sewing machine (a graduation gift I left behind, mainly because it was supposed to be a car but that is a story for another day) and started sewing for Chanin when she got a little older. Summer outfits galore and fall/winter long dresses with coordinating pinafores. ***Note from the editor: What the heck is a pinafore and did you say dresses???***

    The kid looked adorable.

    When we would visit in the spring and summer, Mema would load Chanin in her stroller and her cool kiddie sunglasses to take her to watch Papa play in golf tournaments.

     

    Mema was always there for Chanin as well as her five other grandkids who followed. She sat with us when some of the kids were sick and required hospitalization. She attended birthday parties, graduations, weddings and births of great-grandchildren. Though the years and numbers of babies increased and her enthusiastic exuberance waned somewhat, her love for her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren remained strong. She loved and adored us all.

    We love and miss you, Mema.

     


  4. Don’t Mess with Anne Frank

    November 8, 2012 by C.

    Yes, she would.

     

     

     

    Phone rings.

    Me: “Hey, Mom. What’s up?

    Mom: “What in the hell is wrong with you?”

    Me: “High blood pressure, anemia, sleep apnea and anxiety issues over a book I am reading. Have you ever heard of a carnivorous island? Is that even possible? What if our soil becomes carnivorous and all that is left of us is our teeth wrapped up in leaves?”

    Long pause.

    Mom: “I am talking about making fun of Anne Frank. It is completely unacceptable. I am embarrassed that you would do such a thing. She is a martyr! I am guessing you have no idea who she is or what she went through. Unbelievable. What do you have to say for yourself?”

    Me: “I don’t recall making fun of Anne Frank and yes I know who she was and what she went through thank you very much. She invented the Frankfurter and I am really grateful because I love hot dogs.”

    Extremely long pause.

    Mom:  “You cannot be that stupid, can you? You made fun of her on Pinterest.”

    Me: “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

    Mom: “It was a picture of Anne Frank that had “WTF” at the top.”

    The photo in question

    Me: “Did you click on the picture and read the whole thing?”

    Mom: “Oh no, I saw enough.”

    Me: “Well, if you had clicked on it you would have seen the rest of the text that read, “you guys read my diary???” You know like any teenage girl would react when she found out a bunch of people had read her diary?”

    Mom: “It is not funny at all. Leave Anne Frank alone. There is nothing funny about the Holocaust.”

    Click.

    I have to sneak on her computer and un-follow me on Pinterest so she doesn’t see what I pin anymore. Besides, looking at all her photos of Thor is kind of disturbing.

    Why did I think it was a great idea to get her a computer???

     


  5. Foamophobic Tendencies

    June 28, 2012 by C.

     

     

     

     

     

    Last night my Mom called and said she had a surprise for me and I needed to come over and get it. Also, she couldn’t connect to the Internet (she is finally using the laptop we got her for Christmas) and she needed me to fix it.

     

    The minute I walked in she tells me she has been using the Internet to read my blog (Uh-oh) and that I curse entirely too much.

     

    Me: “Seriously? I might have one or two words per post…sometimes none at all. How much is too much to you?”

     

    Mom: “There should not be any cursing in your blog. Have you ever heard of Erma Bombeck? She never cursed at all and she had books, a newspaper column, was on TV and made a pretty good living…very funny lady. You should be more like her.”

     

    Me: “Yes, I have heard of her, but I’ve never read any of her books.”

     

    Mom: “Well, maybe it is damn time you did. I raised you better than this.”

     

    Me:” Um, you just cursed and I was raised in a bar. I knew more about the world at age 13 than most people know at 40.”

     

    Mom: “You were raised in a restaurant that just happened to have a bar.”

     

    Me: “What is my surprise?” *this was going nowhere*

     

    Mom: “Oh, here open it.”

     

    I unwrapped a Wal-mart bag containing  two cans of wasp spray.**

     

    Me: “Wasp spray, awesome. Thanks!”

    She proceeds to tell me that a friend of hers is constantly sleeping in the same bed with another woman, but the woman claims they are just best friends.

    Mom: “They do this even when other beds are available!  They must be lesbians.”

     

    Me: “Hmmm Mom, I really don’t know. I also really don’t care, so I am curious as to why you care so much?”

     

    Mom: “I don’t know…I just thought it was weird. Especially from someone who is so foamophobic. She just goes on and on about how they scare her.”

    Long pause. Staring at her and trying to decide which old folks home to have haul her off after I leave her house.

     

    Me: “Foamophobic?????”

     

    Mom: “Yea, isn’t that the word for when someone is really afraid of homosexuals? Like they think they might catch it if they touch them or something?”

     

    Another long pause. This conversation was actually taking place and not some sort of weird dream.

     

    Me: “Mom, I have never heard of foamophobic before, unless it is a fear of memory foam mattress pads, but who would fear those? They are just heavenly. I think the word you were looking for is homophobic.”

     

    Mom: *starts laughing uncontrollably* “Why did I say foamophobic?? I know it is homophobic! I am losing my mind.”

     

    Me: “What is more important in an old folks home to you? Group games and crafts or getting your poopy diaper changed within 12 hours of soiling them? We can’t afford both, so one or the other.”

     

    Mom: “You are so hateful.”

     

    Me: “Yea, you raised me to be this way. Oh, by the way this conversation will be in a blog tomorrow.”

     

    Mom: “When I figure out how to leave a comment you are in big trouble!”

     

     

    ** There has been an abundance of wasps swarming around my front door and hers. I have been deemed the official exterminator of both units. My last experience drained an entire can on her front porch and a wasp came after me. I had to run, people. I only do that when a person wielding a weapon is chasing me. But I figured with my dumb luck I might be deathly allergic to wasp stings and therefore I was being chased by an armed flying insect. Death was near.