Conversation with Mom #3

Let me preface this whole thing by saying my mom, Sal, is an amazing person. She is smart, she takes care of the whole family and the whole of Cumberstone Rd. and South Anne Arundel County, and she has endured my obnoxiousity for the last 28 years so that pretty much makes her a saint.

But DAMN she can be something else sometimes...

I was in a fragile state this weekend. Having not cried for a month or so, and having been brought to tears circumstancially and nostalgically on Saturday morning, I spent the remainder of the weekend either on the verge of or immersed in tears. When one of the immersed-in periods hit on Sunday morning before 9 a.m., I opted not to call my local best friend (you're welcome, Maisie!). Mom was the next obvious choice, because traditionally one of a mom's jobs is to listen to her child sobbing incoherently on the telephone.

I got her voicemail message and hung up, then thought about it for a second and decided to just call back and leave a message asking her to please call me when she (sniff) could, please.

Well. Ha. Here's what actually happened:

-phone is answered after 2 rings-

Sal: WHAT?! (wind and horses whinnying in the background)

Me: Ma? Hello?

Sal: WHAT do you WANT COURTENAY?!?!

Me: (ok now the sobbing was unleashed and this is what I was trying to say but much of it was made unintelligible by my crying) Um? I am crying because I am really upset because I rode with Devon yesterday and it was hard and I am sad and you're my mom and so I am calling you?

Sal: WELL I AM ON A HORSE SO IT'S A REALLY BAD TIME. (this was not in a nice tone of voice, which i am trying to convey via capslock)

Me: WELL THEN DON'T ANSWER YOUR STUPID CELL PHONE, LET ME LEAVE A MESSAGE NEXT TIME IF YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW YOU ARE ON A HORSE, I AM ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COUNTRY, IN MY CAR, AND IN CASE YOU HADN'T NOTICED I AM CRYING.

Sal: WELL I THOUGHT IT WAS AN EMERGENCY SINCE YOU CALLED TWO TIMES FOR SOME REASON!!!

Me: Well if it were an EMERGENCY don't you think I'd dial 911 and not you?!

Anyway you get the idea. I hung up and called my sister instead and we commiserated... both of us, when miserably upset, have this self-torturous habit of calling our mom, who reacts to her kids' tears in predictably non-comforting hard-ass ways ("pull yourself together" sort of stuff). Then yesterday I got two mildly contrite voicemails from Sal stating what stage of grief she thinks I am currently experiencing or something.

I did not call her back. Not talking to her.