Don't Mess With Mom

It's Mother's Day today, and I would like to give you a small glimpse of why growing up with my Mom was both terrifying and awesome.

Normal mothers kill crabs by boiling them.

My Mom would rip off the crab's leg, then use it to stab it to death. She would push the pointy tip of the leg through the wound she just created.

That's equivalent to a Wookie ripping off your arm and beating you to death with it.

Happy Mother's Day!

Owoopok

Many of you probably grew up with a fear of the Bogeyman.

This is because your parents didn't have enough imagination to traumatize you properly.

My grandmother made up a creature she called the "Owoopok" who stole naughty children and sold them into slavery. If we misbehaved he would show up with his sack and stuff us in it.

What made this story really terrifying was how plausible she made it. She told me that during the day the Owoopok disguised himself as a homeless man with red eyes, who panhandled on a particular street in her neighborhood, while wrapped in a blanket.

I have no doubt that she chose a real homeless man with bloodshot eyes, who carried his belongings in a bag (that looked just like it might be large enough to contain children).

All I had to do to confirm her story was go to visit the bakery where he dug in the dumpsters for breakfast, and thus add another layer of terror to my childhood.

My grandmother was a very clever woman.

Infertility and Infidelity

My co-worker Jane always has stories about her crazy, dysfunctional family. Today she told us one about her uncle.

Uncle and his wife had trouble conceiving a child, due to some fertility problems. The whole family knew the particulars of that particular problem because during Thanksgiving dinner, Uncle announced to everyone that he had a low sperm count.

Some time afterwards, he and his wife adopted a baby girl. A month later, his wife got pregnant. Some people thought, "Gee, doesn't it always happen that way?" However, Grandpa (Uncle's father) was suspicious. (Jane described Grandpa as "having a little more sense" and "being heavily armed.")

While his son was at work, Grandpa took his guns over to his daughter-in-law's home, and caught her with two men from the truck stop.

Grandpa chased off the other men, and wasted no time telling everyone that the bun in the oven did not belong to his son.

Poor Uncle now had two kids that he was not biologically related to. He divorced his wife, gave his adopted daughter to his mother to raise, then proceeded to "shack up with a succession of truck stop waitresses," according to Jane.

At the current time, Uncle plans to marry a nice woman who wants a Catholic wedding. This means Uncle is trying to get his first marriage annulled by the Church.

As part of the application for annulment, 7 family members have to fill out a 8-10 page questionnaire that asks for very personal details of Uncle's relationship(s).

Jane's mother is filling out one of the questionnaires, and keeps calling her to say, "You won't believe what they're asking now!"

Wedding Brawl

I have 3 weddings to go to this summer, and the first one is in about 3 weeks. Two weddings will bracket my final exams. This weekend, I'm helping a friend pick out a wedding dress. The madness is about to begin.

Bridal season is starting, and I hope it is a lot less drama-free than a wedding my co-worker told me about. I hope this doesn't happen to any of you.

At my co-worker's cousin's wedding, the wedding party had too much to drink at the reception. Fueled by alcohol, the groom became convinced that the bride was fooling around with the best man. The two men began arguing, and decided to settle their differences in the parking lot.

The bride tried to intervene in the flurry of fists, and was accidentally punched. The bride's stepmother, enraged that someone beat her daughter, ran as fast as she could across the parking lot, while her bra struggled valiantly, but failed, to hold in her ample bosom.

Upon seeing his wife in the altercation, the bride's father joined in, resulting in a bride/groom/best man/mother and father of the bride fistfight.

By this time, all the wedding guests had left the reception to watch the effects of too much hard liquor. At least one guest was on her cell phone narrating the fight to someone not present, saying "You won't believe what I'm seeing right now . . ."

Kidney Stones

My mother sometimes had unusual, but effective, parenting techniques. When I was a child, she showed me my dad's kidney stones.

"Okay, you see this stuff that looks like big grains of sand in your dad's pee? That's what happens when you don't drink enough water. Imagine how painful it is to pee rocks."

As an adult, people have commented about how much water I drink.

Holding It In

An example of how not to be helpful:

On a long road trip through the desert, miles of highway in both directions, no bathroom in sight, I had to go.

I have a small bladder and generally frequent the facilities once an hour.

It had been 2.5 hours and I was trapped on a bus.

I was desperate.

My father said, "It'll be all right as long as you don't think about having to go to the bathroom."

I grumbled.

"Really, don't think about it."

Several minutes later he reminded me, "Don't think about having to go to the bathroom."

A little while later he decided to be helpful once again. "Remember, don't think about it."

He didn't seem to understand that saying "Don't think about peeing!" has the opposite effect.

Marking Your Territory

My parents are locked in a battle with the neighborhood cats, who seem to have selected our garden as their favorite litter box. The stress is starting to show.

My dad: "The stupid cat peed on the lawn again!"

My mom: "Maybe you should too. You know, 'I'm bigger than you and this is my territory!'"

She giggled, so she's still sane.