Last night my 18 yr old, who cracked his debit card, hence I had to order a new one, said to me, “Mum, can you get me some cash?” I agreed, since my name is on his account so I can transfer money in case he ever takes his account too low. Which he did a week ago, and I stupidly didn’t catch it, consequently it cost ME over $90 for a $10 debit transaction, and the stupid ass bank wouldn’t refund me one red cent, even after I ever-so-sweetly pointed out that I have three, count them THREE, accounts with their institution and have NEVER bounced anything all over the city, and the one account has more than enough to cover said overage (let’s hope, it’s only $90!). I was ticked, and hubby has since told me to leave said bank. Yeah cuz THAT’S so easy—guess cuz HE doesn’t have to do IT!
Anyway, this morning, I received a text that read: Mum don’t forget my cash.
I cracked up! WHO is this Mum that forgets in which he refers, I said aloud (I talk to myself remember?).
Maybe he really meant to text All-Forgetting-Dad, to whom All-Remembering-All-Doing-Mum must screw on head so that he will remember boots, keys, clothes—even his name, before heading off to work, where he suddenly remembers EVERYTHING, until he re-enters the castle then commences in all-forgetfulness once again.
All-Remembering-All-Doing-Mum doesn’t forget. There was a time when All-Remembering-All-Doing-Mum could remember everything in her blonde head, but after bearing two sons and dealing with a full-grown male, her memory has shrunk to the size of a peanut, therefore this Great Being must now resort to Post-Its. She sticks these wonderful pieces of colored paper all over the counter and wall where she will see them when drinking her morning octane while preparing for her day ahead.
There was also a time when this Great Being used to be able to read those colorful pieces of paper with her normal eyes, but now must cheat with dollar store spectacles that are so not attractive, but that doesn’t bother this Great Being, as she also has a breathe-rite strip across her nose, socks and fuzzy slippers on her feet and an over-sized robe over top her granny pajamas.
Once upon a time she WAS glamorous—she doesn’t quite remember WHEN that was (no Post-It for THAT sticking on the wall) but she does have photos, so it MUST be true and not her over-active imagination playing tricks on her—although Photoshop has been known to come up with some doozies!
The Great Being replies to the text: Yes. I remember. Luv U.
And, the Great Being DOES.
With ALL her heart.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Great Being Called Mum
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