My mom is a weird bird, and we’ve been told we have a weird relationship. And unfortunately for her, I’m not very good at adulting under the best of circumstances, which is 100% the reason I sponge off her like a basement dwelling sea urchin. So luckily for me, I get to be privy to her weird obsessions and odd quirks, and she’s got a few of them. Putting aside her deep obsession with the middle east and her overwhelming need to point out my erroneous life choices, she has this uncomfortable habit of consistently reminding me of her mortality. Not only that, but she also seems to enjoy pointing out how woefully under prepared I’ll be when she finally kicks the bucket.
More often than not, it’s during a horrifyingly sad movie where the main character has some combination of an inoperable cancer/tumor, where death is imminent and life is bleak. But every once and a while, her reminders will come at the weirdest times. For example, during a pet food commercial where the xanax-needing announcer will not-so-subtly suggest if you buy your cock-a-poo THIS brand of food, it just might live to shit another day and she’ll just casually swivel her head …
Or sometimes, it’ll appear mid-conversation at the most inopportune time to talk about familial death, like at a barbecue, a graduation or over Christmas dinner, very casually, but she’ll most certainly bring it up anyway…
But now, it’s morphed into something that’s almost funny for her to consistently pester me with, like a canker sore that she just keeps poking at.
I’m not entirely certain where this obsession comes from, but for the most part, I attribute her fixation to the fact that she has very young children, whom she needs to ensure will survive under my care.
(As a side note: I did kill a cactus once, which left her with little hope that I would be able to keep her children alive.)
Or maybe it’s cause she really truly feels that it’s her job as my mother to prepare me for not just the trying aspects of life, but really, ALL aspects of life. Which includes anything and everything from telling me I need to bathe myself and get to work on time all the way to attempting to teach me how to do my taxes and how I need to acquire birth control. (It should be noted another one of her obsessions is the need to make me aware that she is NOT in any way prepared to be a grandmother.)
The one thing I know for sure is that when she finally does leave us, I’m sure she’ll find a way – from the grave – to indicate how I could have been more prepared for her passing.