Sunday, August 27, 2006

All that pot and kettle stuff...

A phone conversation with the Mominator.

Hey ... I was calling to ask you a question.

Yes?

Is there a meet the teacher/drop off school supplies time tomorrow at X?

For who, Mom?

Ok ... before I give her response, I have to give a little background. Tiffany works with Mominator at a little boutique. Tiffany is a KNOW IT ALL. Tiffany does not have a filter from her brain to her mouth. Tiffany is also 10 years my junior. So when the Mominator starts a sentence off with "well, Tiffany just told me ..."I immediately put on my boxing gloves.

Well, Tiffany just told me that Taylor is meeting her teacher tomorrow, and dropping off school supplies.

Yeah. Interesting.

Well, I wasn't sure if you needed to know that.

Well, I already knew that because I got a letter from the Door Man's K teacher, telling me the same thing.

Oh ... did the Queen get a similar letter?

No, she didn't. Mom ... you remember that the Queen has the same teacher for second grade as she did for first? You know ... that looping thing?

Well, yes. I remembered that. I was just telling you what Tiffany told me, and better to hear it from me than to not hear it at all and not do something you should have.

Well, I suppose that would be true IF you knew what you were talking about. Queen does NOT have a meeting with her teacher, who she already KNOWS, tomorrow.

Hmmm.

Now ... this "hmmm" thing. It ticks me off to no end.

Hmmmm... said at the end of a sentence for the Mominator is an indication that there is disbelief over the whole situation ...

Hmmm..... well, I don't believe you.

Hmmmm... well, I think you are wrong.

Hmmmm.... well, I am just telling you what Tiffany said to me, and I would rather call my own flesh and blood, make her feel like an inept mother by questioning everything she says, and let her know that I believe the words of a person I have known for 2-3 years over hers.

So.... hmmmm.

Hmmmm .... Hmmmm what, mother? I can certainly get you the Queen's teacher's phone number, and you can call her to see what she has to say.

Well... no, I'm not going to do that.

Well fine, then. Let's leave it at that.

Well, I just thought maybe you needed to know.

I DON'T need to know; I DIDN'T need to know; and now I am po'ed that you keep pushing me because YOU think I NEED to know.

Golly. You know what? Sometimes, you are REALLY difficult to get along with!

Wow. Hello pot. Nice to meet you.

5 Comments:

Blogger Pass The Torch said...

Do we have the same mother?

6:20 PM  
Blogger Knitting Maniac said...

HA! We quite possibly could!

8:56 PM  
Anonymous Christie said...

LOL! Maybe we'll see you today. I'm aiming for 12:30ish. Have a great one!

7:30 AM  
Blogger Bellezza said...

Okay, those great last lines you lay down could be their own book. "Hello, pot. Nice to meet you." If that isn't the living truth! I remember a cartoon I saw once of a mother saying she raised her daughter to be the exact opposite of how she was raised. What happened is she found she'd raised a person just like her mother! I'm not sure this comes across in the translation; the point is, I think there's no escaping developing some of the same attributes! And, sometimes, that's a good thing.

7:41 PM  
Blogger Knitting Maniac said...

Belezza... I totally agree with you. My mother and I, while we would like to think are polar opposites, are one and the same personality. And that is why I exasperate her so quickly. She would rather win a clean argument. With me, she can't. My sister just rolls over and says things like "the next time, you should just say to her "thanks... I will check into that." Well, that is a pacifist's way ... and I am not like that. And neither is my mother. Rolling over, and giving my mother the INKLING of satisfaction that she could possibly be right ... could never happen.

8:37 PM  

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The Lovely She, that is me!

I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.

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The nine-year-old who seems to be growing older every minute, has an opinion and a comment for everything, and has a true servant's heart.
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The seven-year-old who loves the organization of things, will someday be someone's therapist because of his kind soul, and will more than likely be living with us until he is 40 years old.
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The five-year-old with the 13-year-old attitude, who has a dictator's personality, asks you to watch her all the time and say "hold on" to keep your attention, and will someday come home on the back of some dude's motorcycle with 10 tatts and a body piercing or two.

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The man of the house, the fixer of things, the winner of prizes, and the only person in his family to escape the South.

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The time my Dad embarassed the crap out of me
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When the Door Man was about 2 1/2 years old, a...
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