I have a wonderful relationship with my mother. I feel pretty fortunate about this. Really, there is only one thing that is contentious...no, I'd better say annoying...that she will inevitably introduce into our conversations.
Money. Investing. Four Oh One Kays. The Roth Ira. Where to find a bargain (Walmart). Online Banking. Suzy Orman. Suzy Orman. Suzy Orman. What I should be doing with my money. How much she has lost. Where she's moving it now. What happened to the money because dad didn't listen to her. When to be conservative. When to be aggressive. How having a Democratic president will negatively affect her retirement. What should have happened. How paying any interest on anything in any little way is a complete waste. How to suck the glue off a dead-letter stamp. Really, how easy it would all be if we were smart enough to take care of ourselves, so the wise ants don't have to carry the grasshoppers of this world.
When the talk begins, when the topic of money is broached, I tighten up. I just let it on by. If she asks for my input, I go with my standby answer: 'oh, I'm really more focused on the quality of life side of things. I just need enough money to not worry about money.' I avoid dissent on things that, really, if I did argue, my ass would be shredded (though there are times when I'm tempted to ask her how she resolves all this common sense to the dozen trips to Reno she makes each year).
Easter was no different. As the topic turned to my father's government job and the purchase of 3 - 48" monitors for a twelve by ten foot office space, I drifted from the room. I could sense my mother seeing an opening, I could hear her weighing in and commanding the room.
She caught up with me later, as I vibrated away on my grandmother's vibrating chair.
- What size jeans do you wear? I want to get you a pair of designer jeans.
Okay, now that is for real, contentious. 'Designer' jeans are personal. And my mother? I couldn't avoid picturing myself in pastel baggy blues.
- Mom, I work for a clothing store. I already have a discount. It would be a waste of your money. Anyways, my waistline fluctuates throughout the week; I couldn't tell you. (And, as a precaution) I think I'm allergic to elastic.
- No really, I want to do something nice for you. Do you need any new shirts? What's your favorite brand?
- I could go for two months and not wear the same shirt twice. I'm set. But I really don't get this. There is nothing you could get me that I can't get myself for less. I think it's really cool that you want to do something nice, though. I'm still trying to decorate my place? Pier One gift card?
- Oh, nevermind. It's just that I get double the points on my department store card now. They love me there!
And that was it.
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2 comments:
Insightful. And totally annoying. Mine is weight. My mother, who will always be a size 6, constantly looks for those openings in our conversations, too; an opening so small, you'd think it impossible to talk about something so big (namely me). 'You know, Susie Slonaker's daughter is running the half-marathon. I also saw this great new diet on Oprah that totally works. I was going to buy a shirt for you, but I don't know what size you are now. Molly Keller says that her daughter lost the baby weight from the raw food diet, maybe you could, too.' Meanwhile, my 'baby' is nine years old. How do we learn from them, when they're busy teaching us stuff we don't really need to know?
Oh no, my first comment. You're only going to encourage me to go on about things that REALLY HAPPENED. This could be bad.
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