Air: It's What's For Dinner

That is my mother. You can call her Pat. Because that's her name. She is a wee little woman who sits in wee little chairs. She is also a twin. When she and her sister are combined they are almost the size of a whole person. Almost.

My mother may be small, but she is fierce. She ruled her roost with an iron fist and even when we all grew bigger than her (approximately in the 6th grade), we still had a healthy fear of the pain she could inflict. All she had to do was give us a look and we knew that we better shape up or else. Actually, when I think about it, if we had acted out to the point of receiving the look it was too late. We were getting it when we got home no matter how we tried to make up for it.

My mother is not the best cook in the world. In all fairness, she is a pretty good cook she just hates cooking so she does so begrudgingly and with contempt in her heart for those of us eating her meals. Hi mom. She reads the blog and she and JD have bitterly suggested that I rename it to "The Bash Mom/JD Blog." It's not as catchy as the current title so I don't think I will be changing it. Although I like where they're going with it and may take that direction later down the road. Growing up, I remember we ate the same 14 meals in rotation. She only had a handful of recipes in her arsenal that everyone liked and we ate those all of the time. Every now and then she would try something different and it would get thrown into the calendar of meals. Everything but her barf stroganoff. My brothers and I can remember it vividly, that sour meat taste in our mouths. Even my dad who would've gladly woofed down a steaming plate of dog food didn't like the stuff. To this day, none of us will eat anything closely related to beef stroganoff. My sister in law has learned to rename it "creamy noodles and beef" so my brother will eat it. 

My mom is a wonderful grandmother, however I am concerned that she may kidnap Beatrice one day. She jokes about it and it freaks me out. She loves babies and hogs them with unabashed shame. When we go to family gatherings, she proudly walks Beatrice around showing her off to aunts and uncles but won't let anyone hold her. Even me. On the flip side, she does buy her beautiful smocked outfits with no regard for cost so I probably shouldn't make her mad. Carry on mom, as you were.

My mother is not a complicated woman. She loves her children, she psychotically loves her grandchild, and she hates pets in her house. As grownups, we have a lot of fun picking on her. She is still wee little but we are no longer afraid of her. My favorite game is the over-share game where I mention something about nipples or lube or make references to my marriage bed at the dinner table. She gets all flustered and laughs and says things like "that's nice Alyson." The game is best played when my grandmother and brothers are present too, for extra uncomfortableness. JD has banned the playing of this game but he secretly loves it too. 


My mom is really great at spending money. She is the queen of outlandish gifts. Instead of bringing a houseplant and a casserole to your brand new house, she buys a Dyson vacuum. When I had Beatrice, she arrived to the hospital with a Victoria's Secret bag full of pajamas and undies for me. All I have to do is mention that Beatrice may want a new saddle for her albino pony or plasma TV and mom is on it. I try really hard not to abuse this....

As much as I use her (and JD) for a little comic relief on here, my mom is really great. I wish I could've known her as a kid as I know her now. Like if I knew back then that it wasn't her life's mission to ruin all of my fun by not letting me ride in fast cars with boys twice my age because she just wanted me to be safe. That would've been cool. I think I would've fought her less if I knew that everything she did was for my own good and protection. Except that time I told her that I was hungry and she told me to take big gulps of air to trick my stomach into thinking it was full, that was kind of messed up. I hope Beatrice can know that she is my favorite little person and that I will always have her best interests in mind while she is growing up. And I will always feed her things more substantial than air. I promise.