Posts Tagged ‘mother’

So apparently according to my mom, a wife being able to cook is the sole foundation of a good marriage. Really, this isn’t the 80’s, and we’re not in South Asia.

Haha, I went to help her out in the kitchen today. And after a few minutes of her watching me hopelessly spending way too long cutting out awkward shaped pieces of onion (I mean really, they’re all going down the same way, whatever), she was like, “Just go do the dishes, I feel bad for your future husband.”

Really! Ha, my husband should be the one cooking for me. Okay.. not all the time, but like special occasions and such. And I’m 17! I’ll learn later! And why exactly are we discussing my ‘future husband’ now??

My mom amuses me sometimes.


Sometimes, when I’m feeling kind of confidence, I like to think of myself as witty, or perhaps even, dare I say it- funny.

And I enjoy myself and wonder where I could have possibly gotten these genes from.

Then I spend summer days hanging out with my mother and I realize.

There are so many things about my mother that will either make you laugh, or lift up an eyebrow in that way that you can only do when you can’t realize weather she was ridiculously amusing, or ridiculously weird.

I’ll let you be the judge of that.

One day, we were walking to the big park that was a few miles away. My siblings were riding their bikes up ahead, so I was stuck walking with my mother.

(Yes yes, I can’t ride a bike, laugh it out now, I sure have.)

And you know, I really didn’t want to walk side by side with my mother, maybe just a few steps ahead or something.

But there she was pulling my on the arm and linking hers through mines and grinning in that way that made me recoil and think, ‘Do you think you are my friend here?’

But you know, she’s my mom and she suffered through labor to pop me into this world and all so I wisely kept my trap shut and just allowed her to  walk my down the block, attached to my arm like some clingy girlfriend on a guy.

And she starts out with normal conversations- stuff about the weather and about my siblings and stuff.

But of course, that would be boring.

So then she sighs and looks at a woman that was walking by, facing us. And she asks me,

“How come you’re generation is so slutty? I mean look at that woman, I can practically see her nipples and her pants are so tight they are seeping into the crack of her vagina.”



Now how was I supposed to respond to that?

I’m pretty sure I just gaped at her for a few seconds before bursting out laughing.

Thank god she didn’t say it English, because she isn’t all that quiet about her insults.