Tag Archives: mothers

Mothers. Daughters. Mothers. No, wait. Mom? Mommy? I’m going to bed.


Homer Simpson spoof of Munch's My mother makes me feel like this.

Does yours?

Here are how too many parts of our conversations – mostly, via e-mail, these days – tend to run:

Me: <insert less than perfectly pleasant, but unfortunately necessary thing to say, as in: I am NOT on crack cocaine, and have no intention to distribute such to minors – put as delicately as possible.>

Mom: I love you.

Me: reiterating same, again, struggling for the gossamer-like delicacies of phrasing.

Mom: Did I mention how much I love you?

Me: Love you, too, Mom. Just so you know, though, by the way, just thought I’d mention — in passing — just in case such a thing might cross your mind? I’m NOT on crack. Or anything. Like, you know, CRACK.

Mom: Hope all your projects are going well.

Me: Everything’s doing great, Mom, listen: I’m hearing through the grapevine that you’re telling people I’m a CRACKHEAD, any truth to that little SCUTTLEBUTT?

Mom: I hope you make a ZILLION dollars! You know how much I love you, and you DESERVE it.

Me: Yeah, yeah, thank you, Mom, but wait – oh, hang on, Mom, the kids are screaming…

Mom: (in the background, but unfortunately, doing sort of deaf): What did I tell you?

Me: MOM! She just fell off her bike, that’s all. Mom? I’m an artist, not a drug addict, okay? There actually IS a difference…

Mom: I love you.

Me: Doh! AAAAAAH! Mom, I love you. I gotta run.

Me: (Trying to call my sister. Line is ringing, ringing, finally picks up.)

Sister: Hello? Listen – can I call you back? Are you okay? Mom’s on the other line – I have to call you back. Are you feeling all right?

Me: (seething) I’m fine. Tell Mom I love her.

(photo source: http://images.allposters.com/images/pic/GBEU/FP1334~The-Simpsons-Posters.jpg
But the original link was from, oddly, a site called “Art of Europe” – so they stole it first.)

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