She Took Her Son’s Humor A Little Too Seriously
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“So, years ago I used to write travel blogs, way back before Youtube came out. I guess people liked my essays, as the website had a ton of hits and the forum had about 2k members. One day my mother said she’d love to read my stuff and I don’t know what came over me but I agreed and sent her the link. The stories were all very tongue-in-cheek and full of dirty humor, a young guys tales of exploration with lots of naughty stories thrown in, etc. Fun reading if you’re in your twenties but possibly a little bit of a stretch to enjoy for an ex-businesswoman who’d spent most of her life taking everything very seriously.
Anyway, I was traveling at the time so I completely forgot I’d even told her about it. Two years pass and I return back to the UK. She’s acting kind of funny all the way from the airport to the house, but I put it down to the long absence from each other. After dinner that evening she suddenly starts looking all mopey at the floor and with a sigh, suddenly tells me how sorry she is that she didn’t financially support me through my hard times during my travels. She looks as if she’s going to start bawling so I’m pretty taken aback. I didn’t struggle that hard, I tell her, but she reiterates that if only she’d known the things that I had to do to get by, she’d have pitched in more.
Now I’m definitely scratching my head so I ask to be more specific about what she read. She pulls up my website and clicks on the link to one of the essays and points to one particular line which went something akin to: ‘–so there I was in the States, broke as heck, you know, doing part-time jobs, bartending, being a busboy, anything I could take and I sucked a few dirty old dudes and rented myself out to a few gay men for a night–‘
Oh. My. God.
First, again..what was I thinking letting her read that filth? Secondly, it was clearly a joke– anyone who’d read my stuff and knew the ebb and flow of my writing would have thought as much, but out of context..maybe not. I guess my mother, whose idea of ‘risque’ is ‘So You Think You Can Dance?’ God bless her soul. She had entirely accepted that for 2 years I had financed my globetrotting via bj’s, and she had been biting her lip about my potential preference for men and keeping it under her hat for the day when we’d meet again face to face.
It took me forever to convince her it was just playful humor. I think she’s still doubtful even now. I’ve now been married 12 years but every time I mention a male friend she says ‘if you ever feel the need, it’s ok to come out- I’ll never judge you.'”
“She Was Always The Chill One In The Family, But Not That Day”
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“My little sister was obsessed with Toy Story as a kid and her favorite character was Woody. I always thought this was sweet because, for the entirety of the movie, Woody is competing with Buzz for the spot of Andy’s favorite toy. With my sister, it was no competition.
My parents did their best to find an adequate Woody doll for my sister, but the problem was that Buzz beats Woody in popularity, even in real life. It was more difficult than you’d think to find these dolls.
Anyway, we had a trip to California soon to visit old neighbors and friends after a move. We had also planned to take my sister to Disneyland as she had never been because she was too young to go before.
We were standing in a line for food about midday. We had been hitting the rides all day, walking, chasing my sister inside the park, etc. My mother especially wanted a break. She sat at one of the empty tables with my sister while my dad, brother, and I were in line. She was completely leaned out in the chair, her head resting on the back of it. Her sunglasses were on but I knew her eyes were closed.
Then my Dad shouted to my mother from our spot in line. ‘Look! It’s WOODY!’
Everyone (my mother, us, the people in line, the workers, the people at the tables) followed my dad’s finger as he pointed outside the picnic area. It was life-sized Woody, like in the Mickey Mouse suit but it was Woody. He was walking away.
My mother took off her sunglasses and you could see determination glaze over her eyes. She grabbed my sister and bolted after Woody. He seemed to be in a hurry for some reason. Maybe he was late. Maybe he was supposed to be done for the day. Maybe he was planning on going to the life-sized cartoon office to pull his giant cowboy head off, throw it on the ground, and say to his boss, ‘I quit!’ In any case, Woody was walking way too fast. My mother chased after him: ‘Woody! Woody, wait!’
Woody did not turn around and my mother did not accept this. She tucked my sister under her arm and everything after this happened in slow motion, I swear. We watched from the food line as our mother morphed into an NFL football player, spinning and dodging people in the crowd, even shoving other moms with her free hand to get her baby to Woody. It was incredible. I had never seen her move like that. People were staring and making faces at her as she weaved and shoved through them screaming, ‘Woodyyyyy! STOP!’
Woody turned around and when he saw her coming in the manner she was, he took a step back like he was afraid she might take him down. Woody and my mother stood face to face. She took my sister’s hand, took Woody’s hand and joined them. And then she pushed and weaved through the crowd even more to get ahead of them so she could take a picture. The look on my sister’s face was the best thing I’d ever seen and the best thing I’ve seen since.
Word of this got back home and since the search for a Woody doll for my sister was still on, our friends and family started a Woody manhunt. Turns out a friend of a friend of our grandma’s was having a garage sale and she had this giant Woody doll that one of her grandkids didn’t want anymore. Grandma snagged it.
My father tells the story now and laughs because of how crazy our mother looked chasing after Woody pushing people out of her way. She had always been the chill one in the family. Reserved. Relaxed. Behind the scenes. Not that day.
Our parents dressed up as Woody and Jessie that Halloween. It was her last Halloween. She died right after Christmas, but not before watching my sister open her Woody doll gift. My sister was five so she doesn’t remember our mother the way my brother and I do. We tell that story every chance we get and my sister still has the Woody doll (she’s almost 21).
We all miss my mother a lot.
So long, Partner…”
The Unbelievable Thing She Did To The Nun
“When I was in second grade (1994) I went to Catholic school. I learned about other religions through TV and asked my mom what happens to those other people who follow other religions when they die. She told me, ‘honey it doesn’t matter what you believe in as long as you are kind to others.’
I was so stoked. I went to school and told my friends what she had said and they all got super excited. Well the news got around the school and I was called into principal Sister Gene’s office. She spanked me for spreading blasphemy. My mom was called to pick me up because I was acting hysterical afterwards. I’m sitting outside the nuns office watching my mom and her talk when suddenly my mom PUNCHED A NUN IN THE FACE!!!
Now my mom is a guidance counselor and a large high school in Genesee, MI. She’s the nicest person I’ve ever met. I will never forget that moment. She came out yelling ‘go ahead and call the police’ and we went and had slurpees. A week later I started public school and my mom started her job as a teacher.”
How One Mom Took Down An Entire School
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“We lived in a really rough neighborhood as the only white family for miles and miles around. My mom once came to pick me and my sister up from school only to see us getting beaten. Again. None of the teachers would do anything because they were related to the ‘gang leader’ of the kids who hurt us.
To this day I will NEVER forget my mom literally driving our truck onto the school sidewalk (thankfully not mowing children down), jumping out of it, and SCREAMING mighty fury at the kids, the teacher and the school. I mean–this was like a meltdown. She threatened the gang leaders life (despite the fact that we were like…tweens) and I do remember the line ‘if you touch my daughters one more time your teeth are gonna end up where the sun don’t shine’ which makes me laugh now.
She whirled around and started screaming at the teachers on site, and amazingly that’s when we realized, MY MOM HAD BEEN RECORDING. Of course this set mass panic in the teachers and the kids who hurt us for obvious reasons and my mom was like, ‘If you don’t stop this right now, all your jobs are gone, the state is gonna know of this, and your school is gonna be looking for A LOT of new freaking teachers. AND YOU HEATHENS,’ pointed to the gang kids, ‘If you touch them you’re going to jail. I’ll make sure of it.’
We stayed only 6 months later before she pulled us out, despite things getting way better. She did want us to try to help other kids at the school and have them under our protection since we weren’t being touched. Those who were bullied once under our wing got immunity too. Sadly assaults started to happen with other kids in the school and it was just too much of a risk and she pulled us. That was when she sent the tape to the police.
Things did not end well for the school and it is now shut down. Upon investigation they found the assaults were happening while teachers were, once again, turning a blind eye as it was a small community and they had ties with the leader. He had major issues and is now in jail.
My mom, aside from that time, is the sweetest, most laid back person in the world. She never raises her voice, never has a temper, and is just such a trooper. It was crazy to see her turn into a raging devil.”
A True Legend
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“One night after kayaking with my parents, we got home really late so we decided to leave the kayak strapped to the top of the Tahoe. In the middle of the night, my dad creeps into my room and peeks out my window. I wake up and he hushes me. My mom comes in and goes ‘Come on.’
They head downstairs and I hear my dad pick up the phone and start talking to the police. I suddenly hear the front door slam open and my mom scream ‘DROP THAT FREAKING KAYAK.’
The woman is outside pointing a butcher knife at 3 thieves (who also have knives) cutting the kayak down. I then hear my dad say to the police: ‘Hold on a second’ followed by ‘SANDY WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!’ The robbers ran off and my mom remains the most epic person in the world.”
“They Had No Idea What To Do, So My Mother Sprung Into Action”
“I live in Amish country. My closest neighbors are a young Amish couple.
After finishing her morning routine my mother had just settled down to check Twitter/Facebook and watch ‘The View.’ At 11:15 she heard a loud banging on the front door. The door burst open and in rushed our neighbor, Jon. He’s a 5’11” skinny 25 years old Amish guy. He runs up to my mother grabs the TV remote and starts trying to use it like a telephone. My mother, understandably flustered, asks him what he thinks he’s doing!? He says he needs to call the ambulance cause his baby is sick. My mother asks how sick? Jon says he’s turning blue. My mom gets up, grabs the phone and dials 911. She then tells Jon to take her to the baby (she was a lab technician and Vet Tech in the early ’80s.)
Jon basically drags my 60 years old mother up our 300-foot driveway. At the end of the driveway is his 22 years old wife Fannie, kneeling in the grass with her 5 months old son, whose skin is blue
The baby is obviously choking on something. They had no idea what to do, so my mother springs into action. She’s on the phone with the 911 operator who is guiding her through what to do.
First stick a finger down the throat to clear any blocked airway. Then, do CPR. This family has no clue what CPR is, so my little 60-year-old half crippled mother who has smoked since she was 16 does CPR (while having to teach Jon how to do chest compressions) on an infant for about 10 minutes. After about 10 minutes the baby is starting to breathe by itself and its skin turned back to pink.
Then, the ambulance shows up and the rigamarole starts.
Ambulance takes the baby and hooks it up to all kinds of tubes and machines. Jon asks to use my Mom’s cell phone to call up basically the whole Amish community. But first, they need to find someone to drive them because ‘the whole Amish community’ lives over an hour away by horse and buggy. Jon’s family starts showing up by way of some guy with a minivan. The ambulance has gotten the baby stable, but they need to take it to a hospital that has the right equipment. That’s when the helicopter gets called in.
Picture a little valley in the middle of nowhere surrounded by cornfields. Two little houses about 1000 feet apart and in between them, an ambulance, two cop cars, a state trooper car, a silver minivan, about 20 Amish people, and now a helicopter.
Jon and Fannie accompany their baby to the hospital by helicopter because he hospital is 2 hours away by car.
It’s been 4 weeks since that happened. They’re baby survived and made a full recovery, thanks to the quick action and calm-under-pressure attitude of my mother.
Unfortunately, she’s gotten no gratitude from the family. Not a thank you, not even a you’ll be in our prayers type of thing. We kind of expected this. When they moved in next door, our little community was very standoffish towards them. If you’ve lived around this family then you would know of their indifference to what they call us ‘The English,’ until they need something. Then when they don’t need something they forget all about you.”
A Room Full Of Rabbits
“My mom had a lot of mental issues (chronic depression, PTSD, anxiety, and bipolar disorder). From a young age, I knew that sometimes things she did made sense to her but wouldn’t make sense to everyone else. She was a loving and caring mom, but she did things that were out of her control. I don’t resent her for anything. Despite the crazy things I had to deal with, I still loved her more than anything.
She loved animals. In fact, she loved animals so much that she thought the best thing for them was to have a house full of them. I remember at one point we had over 30 cats. And we were poor so we weren’t able to get them fixed. So they kept multiplying.
I should mention now that she was also a hoarder.
She decided that she wanted rabbits. She didn’t want just one or two, she wanted a bunch of rabbits. My dad would try his best to talk her out of stuff, but in her mind, this is what she needed so she would do it. To everyone else, it was insane. To her, it all made perfect sense.
We had a rabbit room. She took one of the rooms in our house and filled it with rabbits. I was 8 and thought it was crazy, but she was my mom so why argue? We ended up having over 50 rabbits. They went everywhere, they kept having babies, they chewed up the walls. You walk into the room and the ammonia would knock you over. Dad wouldn’t let me go in there and my mom would argue, ‘it’s just rabbits!’ Every day my mom would find a dead rabbit and cry like she lost one of her children. It was awful. It was so unhealthy and illegal and it was animal cruelty, but to her, she was helping all these rabbits.
Finally, my dad got a bunch of cages and put them outside. My mom fought him on this. It was to the point that she would sit in the rabbit room and scream and cry and yell at him saying that if he put these rabbits in cages, they would die! Actually, he separated all the males and females. They quit having babies and quit dying every day. He put fans near their cages so they’d stay cool and we fed and watered when needed. Eventually, we had no more.
Later on in life, my mom thought about the whole situation, looked at me and said, ‘Why did I even do that?’ And I just told her that in her mind it made perfect sense. She regretted it and realized how truly awful it was.
She did a lot of things but this one I think was the worse. I mean, up until the day she died, she was a hoarder. Our house was a wreck but it still wasn’t as bad as the rabbit room.”
Mom To The Rescue
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“I was having a fire in the backyard with a friend. Early in the night I saw a shadow of someone in a yard over, told my friend. He looked and said ‘nah, I don’t see anything.’ But, I knew there was a man there. A couple hours later I saw the same man, only this time from another neighbor’s yard. Friend got to take a look and scared the guy off. We decided to call it a night.
Our dogs (who had been inside) barked when they heard the side gate when I let my friend out. Mom woke up and asked what was happening, so I told her about the creeper. She grabbed a flashlight, handed me the phone and said ‘call 911 if you hear anything wrong!’
Armed with just a flashlight, her wife beater and panties she had been sleeping in, she ran outside to look for the creep!
Turns out it was my ex-boyfriend stalking me and the cops were called. I will always remember her running out there with nothing but a flashlight and a mom’s courage thinking ‘she’s freaking crazy.'”
“According To Local Legend, My Mother Was A Bloodthirsty Monster”
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“Strap in, y’all. We’re going for a ride…
My mother’s a force of nature. Army veteran, martial artist, domestic abuse survivor, outdoorswoman, long-time single mother, and artist with a college degree… that’s just scratching the surface. She’s not ever been willing to fit in any sort of category you can think of neatly. She is outspoken and brash, sensitive and empathetic. And according to local legend, a bloodthirsty monster.
My hometown is tiny, but back when I was attending school there, it was even tinier. K-12 on one slightly spread out campus. Maybe 20-30 kids per graduating class. You knew people, and if you didn’t know them, you’d see them.
Enter me: nerdy, unathletic, hopelessly geeky, and teacher’s pet. I was doomed. I had learned fighting back at bullies wasn’t a good option much of the time. I’d still get crap, and they’d just come back for more because they were stupid. Some of them were big enough that fighting back just wasn’t an option. I tried to endure as best I could.
One big dude, Robert, was a piece of work. As an 8th grader, he was 6′ 2″ freedom units, well north of 200 pounds, and had been held back twice. He ran with a trio of idiots that had been giving me grief for a couple of years. They were 7th graders, like me, but general bullies, burnouts, and scofflaws. Maybe better to say they ran with Robert. In any case, he picked up on the idea that I was easy meat.
I remember once he got in my face and tried to goad me into a fight. Told me stuff like ‘you’re a momma’s boy’ in the hopes I’d swing. I didn’t. I didn’t know how to, really. He got ratted out by a passing teacher, and we sat in the principal’s office where he was told to cool his jets. Standard Wednesday.
Most days, I rode the bus home. One fateful day, my mother came to pick me up from school. For whatever reason, my younger brother wasn’t with us, so it was just me and my mother. We were walking past the big yellow school buses, all lined up side to side, ready to roll out. Kids were hanging out the windows, being noisy, doing kid things. And then Robert’s ugly mug emerges from a window, and sees me.
I heard the exchange in the window. Being prey makes you hyper-vigilant. Ricky, one of the trio of idiots, was sitting next to Robert, and told him to call me a name. Longer story short, I had been labeled with the glorious moniker of ‘Goonathan.’ Take Goon. Make a portmanteau with Jonathan. Boom. There you have it. It was stupid. It was lame. Still, I hated it. Ricky knew I hated it.
Robert belts out with, ‘Hey, Goonathan!’ Let’s forgive the poor boy at this remote time for not thinking of anything better, he wasn’t working with a full box of crayons most days.
I told him to shut up. Let’s also forgive me for not being better with the making of the words. Besides, you can’t call someone anything truly awful walking with your mom.
My mother’s head swiveled, and she got that voice. That voice that commands instant freaking obedience if you value your hide intact. ‘Who said that?!’
I pointed in the direction of that smirking mug, and he was, God bless his poor heart, too stupid to realize the danger he was in. He said it again. Goonathan. Head hanging out the window where anyone could get to it.
My mother is 5′ 4″, but never bothered to let that stop her from anything. In a flash, she was at the side of the bus, and in one motion, had vaulted up on the bus’s tire and grabbed the open window sill to brace herself. With her free hand, she was snatching at Robert’s pumpkin head. That 6′ 2″ stack of crap, acne, and hormones flattened Ricky in his quest to escape certain death. He barreled over his compatriot, all thoughts of chivalry lost, scrambling to the other side of the bus, squealing for the bus driver to save him. My mother kept reaching in the window, trying to snatch his fool head off, screaming, ‘Let me at him! I’ll kill him! I’ll rip his head off!’
Chaos ensued.
In the aftermath, my mother turned herself into the school principal and begged for mercy, which she received. Small town. Folks knew what was up. For his part, Robert left me alone after that. Never heard anything from him or anyone.
Fast forward many years. I had gone off to college from my school, but had come back one day to hang out with the marching band while my brother practiced with them. Some of my friends were still there, and it was good to see them. Of course, newbs didn’t know who I was. When one kids asked why I was hanging out, a younger brother of one of my peers told him who I was. Then he launches into some of my exploits, and delivers this immortal gem:
‘Yeah, his mom killed a bunch of kids back in the day! Murdered an entire school bus!’
Small towns, man.”
“My Mom Was At War With Little Caesars”
“When I was a kid we weren’t allowed to a handful of local establishments because my mom was at war with the employees for implying she was white trash or having bad attitudes overall. Being so young I thought nothing of it other than how bad I desperately missed Little Caesar’s pizza. As I got older and having witnessed how my mother belittles food or retail workers I’ve come to the conclusion that my mom is super lucky none of those overworked underpaid workers hauled off and punched her for exploiting ‘the customer is always right’ slogan.
I frequently have to tell my 50 something-year-old mother to apologize for her attitude to the poor workers, shockingly she never knows what attitude I’m talking about or claims they started it. When I was a cashier at Walmart I’d finally snapped at her for this and her exact words to me were, ‘I did my time in these exact crappy, dead-end jobs. I’ve earned the right to treat them like this!’
Um, excuse me?
My parents busted their butts working several jobs just to make ends meet for the longest time and never made it past upper middle class at best so I don’t know why she got such an entitled about it in the first place.”