There's this book, Twitter feed, and show about "shit my dad says" (mom, that is LITERALLY what it's called). That's all fine and dandy, but none of it can hold a candle to "shit my mom does" (mom, calm down, it's not the Lord's name in vain and it's better than me writing about "shit pop pop says"). Seriously, my mother could be a one woman sitcom or movie. If you think women who love Jesus are boring, you haven't met my mom. Sure, she tends to get "filled with the spirit" and could cry at church (often) but at home, it's all laughs. Either way, boring is out of the equation.
My mom is hilarious. If you are ever so lucky as to meet her, you will remember one thing, she's a riot. One time, I invited a boy over for dinner (stop laughing, I remember his name) and my mother made a 100% home cooked meal. Bread - from scratch. Potatoes - Scratch. Raspberry Jam - SCRATCH. My mom thought she was PG County's Laura Ingalls. Makes sense given we lived in PG County's last scrap of actual farm land (77 acres in the middle of a concrete jungle). So, boy from middle school (one of two I "dated" at the time) comes over to feast. He gets to that Raspberry Jam and declares "WHEW, I am AWAKE now!" BIG MISTAKE! Boy thinks the jam is too sweet and my mother immediately takes theatrical offense to this deciding she's not a fan of this boy. (She also doesn't like a boy she called "HEFFER" because he refused to "go out" with me damaging my swagga a bit) All night, she dramatically brings up how he "hates" her homemade Raspberry Jam. How her feelings are really hurt because most mothers consider scratch opening up the Kraft mac and cheese box. After all, she made that special meal to honor him, our special guest (it was...special). He's clearly uncomfortable (but still is one of my 2 dates to 8th grade prom - SWAGGA RECOVERED) throughout the night and seriously thinks he's offended my mom beyond repair (yes, over homemade jam). This sets the stage for my mother to later arm wrestle a high school boyfriend (and win) in attempts to put them in increasingly awkward situations. I never dared to bring a boy to my dad, I didn't want them to be shot. So, my mother's antics were the preferred situation.
One night in particular, my mother brings on the hilarity when returning home from visiting friends. She's on a back road, a byway of sorts, that's got a speed limit of 50 (probably reduced by now because it's a back road...socialists). It's very late for us, nearly midnight, and my mother is going about 70 in the fog. Recently, I had just taken driver's ed and decided to showcase my skills.
"Mom, you're going 70", I say in that snotty I-am-always-right voice (*because I AM). Mom is leaning forward in her seat, eyes as wide as saucers, staring at the foggy road in front of her.
"Yes, Rachel I know. I know the road." my mom says as she edges forward more in her seat. It's not that I am nervous, my mom's catlike reflexes have saved our lives in an accident before. I just want to show off my insanely good grasp of driving safety.
"Are your high beams on?!?!" I ask incredulously.
"Yes... So I can see, Rachel." My mother declares. Waiting for the realization of the situation...
"So it's late at night, very foggy, deer season, and you are speeding down a wooded back road at 70 mph WITH YOUR HIGH BEAMS ON?!?!" I summarize in that condescending teenage fashion. My mother is a saint for NOT punching me in the face.
"I'm hunting for deer" she replies casually.
My mother has now shed "saint" and replaced it with "SUPER AWESOME", because that is legendary. Perfect delivery mom. That happened when I was 15/16, at 26, I can still tell that story and have people laughing. What's even better is, my mother "hunts for deer" in her typical Forest Green Dodge minivan. Those who thought she was an average soccer mom, have another thing coming. That Dodge would HAUL. I'm pretty sure my mother still drives like a teenage boy, but that's cool. It's part of her charm.
Guess what, "Shit my dad says"? Your franchise is in trouble.