An Ode to Mommy Dearest

Well kids, I'm newly single. You might think this development would bring a great array of important and exciting changes to my life: more free time, fewer silly couples pictures on Facebook, and of course the freedom to eat grape jelly on saltines while standing in my kitchen (a la Carrie Bradshaw). But you would be wrong. None of those things matter. The single most life-altering development in the past week might more aptly be described as a paradigm shift.

That's right: my mother now has leverage.

I'd like to say the relationship between me and my mother is similar to the mutually assured destruction tension of the Cold War -- and she would totally be Russia in that example -- but it's actually more akin to the situation in the Balkans circa 1917. Anyone can blow at any moment, and it's U-Boats and trench warfare here--a nuclear attack would be too easy. You want to fight? I'll blow your leg off.

You see, my mother still thinks I am three years old, and, despite my constant whining to The Forlorn Conservative, I am actually an adult. An accomplished adult. With adult abilities and responsibilities. My mother, however, is uncertain about my ability to accomplish a variety of tasks, including feeding myself and taking the time to notice that it is raining outside. Lovely person that she is, she makes sure to call at least 3 times daily to make sure I'm adequately fed and shod and aware that tomorrow's forecast is party cloudy with a chance of DAMMIT MOM STOP CALLING ME I HAVE STUFF TO DO.

So anyway. I'm newly single, which means I actually need my mommy this week. She's thrilled, naturally, because the power has shifted and I might actually initiate a phone call instead of the other way around. She gets to baby me and tell me my mommy loves me and oh dear make sure to eat something but not too much and did I tell you about that nasty ingrown toenail I have? ("Mother....seriously?") Not to mention it gives her a chance to sing (one of her favorite pastimes, second only to watching MSNBC and recounting to me how many college women were raped, murdered, and put into a dumpster last week). In fact, tonight she sang me REM's "Happy Shiny People" to remind me that I am, in my heart, a happy shiny person. She then said she had to go because the baby was ready for bed.

The baby is my parents' 80-pound black lab. How did I spring from this woman's loins???

But, for all her craziness, I love her. I'm so lucky to have someone who will tell me that he didn't deserve me, that I am loved, and that sometimes it's ok to just let go and sing.

Thanks, Mom.