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Saturday. What happened to my morning? I can’t believe it’s gone and I haven’t done anything yet. Today is one of the days when I get overwhelmed by all the things I have to do and instead of doing something, anything, I just look around and wish I were a bit more like my mother.
I’ll give you an example, it’s like all pending things are on fire and time acts like a combustible matter on them. My mom would be the fire alarm.
For my mom, there is no later. Everything has to be done now.

Cooking with my mom in the kitchen is very nice and very challenging. Picture this: I’m preparing tomato sauce. I’m using a wooden spoon. I place the spoon on the counter (actually, on a plate because if I do it straight on the counter, hell breaks). Then I need both hands to open the oregano container. In that same second my mom picks the spoon AND the plate, washes them, dries them and puts them away. That happens so fast that you don’t even see it. Then I add the oregano and intend to mix it and look for the spoon because I’m sure 10 seconds ago I let the spoon right besides the pan.
“Where the f#$k did the spoon go?”
“Which spoon?”
“The one I was using”
“I have no idea. I just washed one I found on the counter”
“That was the spoon I was using”
“No, you were not using it, it was laying on the counter”
And we laugh and laugh.

My mom is the kind of person who can’t still assimilate the idea of a dishwasher or a dirty laundry basket. “What?!? You want me to go and watch TV knowing that you have dirty dishes waiting until tonight after dinner when you decide to turn the f#$king machine on? Are you freaking insane?”
The woman can’t relax. It’s so nice to have her here. When my house gets to this point is when I miss her the most.
She’s the kind of person who gets to my house at 2pm from the airport and at 7pm the house is sparkling and dinner ready on the table. And you wonder, how the hell can she do it after a 22 hours long trip?
I have a bit of her but it’s not cleaning/tidying up related, I’m afraid.
Right now I have the need to blame her for that. Hey, I’m her child, I’m entitled to do it. Could I be called someone’s child if I didn’t have anything to blame on my parents? We kids are so ungrateful sometimes.
Anyway, it’s her fault I’m a mess, or at least that’s what I like to tell her. I say: “If you had let me clean my mess, I would have done it and learned. Instead of that, you played super woman and always did it yourself because you couldn’t wait for me to do it”.
“Ugh. You are just like your father”.
And it’s so nice when she says that and my dad is near. I get a high five from him or a “That’s my daughter!”. He’s a great guy.

If I have to complete a survey about how the experience with my parents is, I’d say: VERY SATISFACTORY.
I realize I’m very lucky that way. I wish my kids would have had the same luck I had.

~ by DotedOn on June 18, 2016.