Conversations with my mother

All posts in the Conversations with my mother category

Conversations with my….parents: Foosball is the Debbil!

Published January 10, 2015 by Rebecca Martin

Normally I post about the unknowingly comical things that come out of my mother’s mouth. But today was a double-whammy in the Martin household. Mom had just returned home from Saturday afternoon errands when…

Mom: I started to go to Wal-mart, but there was a big line. Then I got to Harris Teeter and there was a big line there too. Then I remembered tomorrow’s the Super Bowl.

Dad (as if she’s insane) Tomorrow’s not the Super Bowl!! (momentary pause.) Is it? (Comes into the den aka “the library” where I’m listening to “Bills, Bills, Bills” by Destiny’s Child.) Rebecca, is tomorrow the Super Bowl?

Me: *shrugs*

About two minutes later, for the benefit of the entire household, Dad declares, “The Super Bowl’s February 1.”

*crickets* then…

Me: You looked up information on the Internet that is completely irrelevant to everyone in this house?

Dad: *sheepish-grin-shoulder-shrug combo* What can I say, I like to be informed.

Knowing him, he wants to be able to talk to his co-workers about the game, even though he’ll only look at the recaps on the news the next day. This happens during the World Series, too.


Conversations with my mother: Heart Attack?

Published December 1, 2014 by Rebecca Martin

Mom: Why does it smell like spaghetti sauce in here?

Me: (long pause) Are you having a heart attack?

Mom: (confused) What?!

Me: You know how some people smell toast when they’re having a heart attack? It makes sense to me that we would smell spaghetti sauce.

Mom: (wait for it………) HAHAHAHAHA. (exits stage left to go take a shower.)

Conversations with My Mother: The Papers

Published July 10, 2014 by Rebecca Martin

Me: One of the local community theaters is doing a play called “The Papers”. I’m going to audition.

Mom: When is the play?

Me: Auditions are in December, rehearsals start in January, the play runs for two or three weekends starting at the end of February.

Mom: (reminiscing) Years ago, when we lived in Norfolk, I tried out for a play. It was a comedy about an ingenue; that’s all I knew about it. I kept laughing when I was supposed to be reading. It was funny, I couldn’t help it. (beat) They didn’t put me in the play. 

Me: Yeah, that happens sometimes. I laughed yesterday while reading for a part in an audition I went to. I couldn’t help it either. This play was really funny.

Mom: Was that audition yesterday for “The Papers”?

Me: (disbelief) Mom, when are auditions for “The Papers”?

Mom: (giggling as she realizes) Oh. Right.

Me: (repeating, annoyed) Mom, when are auditions for “The Papers”?

Mom: December.

Me: And what month is this? Is it December? No, because it’s hot out, isn’t it?

Mom: (still giggling slightly) Okay, I’m not three!

Me: …..

My mom and Meshach Taylor

Published June 29, 2014 by Rebecca Martin

RIP to Meshach Taylor aka “Anthony” on Designing Women as well as the flamboyant (aka super-gay) designer in the film “Mannequin.”  Remember Anthony’s constant references to his former inmate T-Tommy? Remember when, for some reason, he was carrying Bernice up the stairs of Sugarbaker’s as she sang “black man, black man.”

Me: Hey Mom, Meshach Taylor died.

Mom: The black guy? (long pause)

Me: *snicker*

Mom: From “Designing Women”

Me. Yes, the black guy mom. The ONLY black guy.

Mom: Well he WAS the only black guy on “Designing Women”.


Fair point, but that’s not what her pregnant pause suggested.

Conversations with my mother

Published March 29, 2014 by Rebecca Martin

Saturday, 7:45 a.m.

Me: I have dance rehearsal from 2-5 tonight. If everyone’s going out after that I’m going with them.
Mom: Okay.

Saturday, 7:55 a.m.

Mom: I’m doing laundry tonight when I get home from work, so bring me any dirty clothes.
Me: I won’t be here.
Mom: You won’t be here at 3?
Me: ………

Saturday, 8:05 a.m.

Mom [on her way out the door] Are you going to be home for supper tonight?
Me: [dead silence]
Mom: You’re not gonna answer me?
Me: I already told you.
Mom: Excuse me, I’m old, I forgot.
Me: [muttering] No, you’re just not listening.

If she’s that forgetful about something I told her 20 minutes ago, I hope she remembered to put her teeth in. Or put on underwear. You know, little things.