My mother called at 8:15 this morning.
“No, I’m not busy at that time,” said no Mom EVER.
I’ve got one sick child in bed and another one taking off with my car keys, yelling at me to follow while I’m running up the stairs to grab the checkbook. Perfect time for a phone call and a bout of amnesia hits…what was I getting again?
I answer the phone coughing, practically choking on the pollen in my lungs. The check book. That’s it. I remember only after going back downstairs. My mother gets straight to the point.
Mom: “Oh, you don’t sound great. Are you sick?”
Me: “Yes, my allergies are beating me up.”
Mom: “Well, then you can’t pick me up, I’ll have to call Erica back and tell her.”
Me: “Wait. Mom. Where are you? What are you talking about?” She lives in Maine. I live in North Carolina.
Mom: “I’m flying into Raleigh tomorrow.”
Me: “Wait, tomorrow?”
Mom: “Yes, I made the reservation at 2 am this morning.”
Me: “Well, do you think you could give me a little more head’s up before you make your plans?”
Mom: “Would you have preferred that I call you at 2am?”
Me: “No, Mom, I would not prefer that.”
And there you have it. Mom’s coming. Tomorrow.
She’ll fit right in with our busy schedules.
She’ll have to. :)