All About My Mother: Just One Egg to Fight Dying Hunger

There are times when a nervous breakdown is in order, particularly when matricide is not an option.  Before, I go any further; I want to preface the following by saying that I absolutely love my mother!  She is very dear to me.  However, my mother is an interesting character, to say the very least. 

Recently, she moved out of my home and into a retirement village.  Understand something; this woman has never ever lived alone.  In her late teens she married and moved from her father’s overcrowded house, containing seven children and two parents, to my father’s house, which in short order became crowded with the two of them and my seven siblings and me.  So now at 63, she finds herself recently widowed and living alone. This is surely a very dramatic change for her.  

I have always known my mother to have peculiar qualities but her move and maybe the grief of losing my father, has intensified her behavior that much more.  Although she is not aware, I have given her three--no make that four--monikers. 

1. Nora Henderson—This one is the most interesting because it sounds like the name of a real person.  But it is actually the combination of her real name and two of her major characteristics.  Nora (Nosey Ora) and Henderson is a play on her constant efforts to hinder me.  When I say nosey, I mean opening my mail nosey.  She once saw the name and number of my ex-boyfriend, of whom she was particularly fond, on the caller ID and called him back to ask him why he had called.
2. Herbert the Pervert—He is the, er hmm, interesting character on the animated television show Family Guy.  Now, I know it sounds cruel for me to compare my mother to an animated pedophile but much like the character on the show, she makes every attempt to lure me to her place.  On the fourth of July, our town did a mountain top fire works display, making the fireworks visible from anywhere in the city.  My mother called me up and asked if I wanted to see the display from her apartment.  I told her I could see it just fine from where I was.  Her response “But you can see it so much better from my place.” Ugh!
3. George Costanza—Yes George from Seinfeld. In particular, I am reminded of the episode where his girlfriend dumped him and he left his personal items in her apartment as an excuse to visit his former lover.  In the case of my mother, she never fully moved all of her belongings to her new apartment.  Rather, at least once a week, she reminds me of something she accidently left behind and then casually asks me to bring it to her.
4. My Ron—Years ago I saw a made for TV movie in which the title character, a speech impaired boy named Ron, had autism.  His mother began an experimental treatment to address his condition and in the magic that is Hollywood, his autism was cured and he learned to speak within two hours.  In the finale, Ron’s father, who was either an ad executive or an attorney I can’t remember, was in a meeting with his boss and a major client when his secretary interrupted to inform him that his wife had called.  Ron’s father replied by saying he would call her back.  The secretary then returned and said “Your wife said your son asked for water.”  He immediately exited his office exclaiming “My son asked for water!” to which the client responded by saying, “Can’t your wife get it for him?”  That’s my mother, My Ron.  She calls me at work, while I’m out with friends or on a date to ask me to how to work the DVD player, where she left her shoes, the surname of an old neighbor from 25 years ago etc.

In light of aforementioned information, I leave you with this recent early morning telephone conversation I had with my mother at about 6:00 AM.

Mom:  (In the voice of a dying woman) Tasha, did I wake you?

Me: (Groggy and sarcastic as ever) Of course not, I have been awake since 3 AM!

Mom: (Still in the voice of a dying woman) Listen, I’m hungry, if you have any eggs can you bring me just one egg?  I have no energy and need to eat something.  Please bring me just one egg.

With the current cost of gas being what it is, I decided it was far more economical to go to one of the many grocers I would pass on the way to her apartment and get her a full dozen rather than bring her one of my eggs.  As I exited the grocer’s parking lot en route to my mother’s lair, I cut off another motorist.  He responded with a hand gesture and yelled “Go to hell!”  Little did he know, that was my immediate destination.