It's my mother's birthday today. If you have ever met me, you know that I am very close to my parents. We talk on the phone with astonishing frequency and email each other approximately one million times a day. That's why I thought that Love, Mom, Doree Shafrir and Jessica Grose's ingenious collection of mother-daughter correspondence, would be the perfect gift for my own dear mama this year. The book is based on the editors' hilarious blog, Postcards from Yo Momma, a reader-driven compilation of texts, emails, and other mother-missives. When I first learned about the blog I have to admit I was a little bit afraid to read it--I was worried it might cheapen the very real, so-absurd-it's-endearing nature of the communication between parent and kid. I so treasure my correspondence with my mom and the idea of laughing at other people's emails made me feel nervous and vulnerable (See last night re. misplaced anxiety). I was also pretty confident that no one else's conversations could rival the amazingness of my family's, and I figured I'd wind up being annoyed.
I was wrong on both counts. Both the blog and the book are sweet, funny, and sympathetic, not to mention totally random and absurd (This entry is killing me right now). There's something comforting in the knowledge that there are so many people out there who have this kind of warm, goofy correspondence on a daily basis. I always figured I was one of the lucky few, but clearly there are many many people who engage patiently in electronic repartee with parents who don't quite get it. The world is richer for these conversations. If you don't already email your parents on a regular basis, I encourage you to do so. Their replies will undoubtedly be as lovely and amazing as my parents' always are, and you might even get lucky and receive an anecdote about bat rehab.
My mother told me not to call her every day, which I did. She said it was a bad idea because when she died I would miss her too much and the time I would call her would become difficult for me.
ReplyDeleteAfter she died I did miss her and yes, I still want to call her, but at least I called her every time I wanted to talk to her, no matter where I was or where I lived.
I called once from Japan and she asked me when I was leaving. I asked her what she meant and she meant to Japan. I said I was there and she was silent.
Then, she recovered, and said I was nuts to be calling her from so far away.