“Shamu”

“Ow!” I yelped stepping out of my bathroom at 9:30 last night. Looking to my right, I saw my Mom in her bedroom sitting on the edge of her bed. So I started talking to her. Or at least that’s what I thought I was doing. “If I move my right leg a certain way I get this shooting pain. I’m not 20 anymore & I’m not going to bounce back like I used to. I’m 34 & I’m old.”

I asked my apparently preoccupied Mom when she got up to walk down the hall if she heard any of what I just said.

“Uhhhh. . . You’re 34 & you’re old” was the best she could do. Talk about history repeating itself! Her weak reply caused us both to crack UP. Call it dying laughing if you need a label. Whatever you call it, only she & I can engage in such comically-centered moments. From earlier:

“What time is it?”

“8:20.”

“Ooh, I gotta go brush my teeth cuz I wanna watch ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ at 8:30.” I needed to walk from where I was in the family room to my bathroom.

“It’ll take you 20 minutes to get there,” came the instant cutting remark referring to the actual (for a “normal” person without mobility issues like me) 5-second trek.

“Bahahahaha!!!!!” I busted out laughing hard cuz in a way it’s true. I do walk slowly, since I walk with a cane, plus extra slow, like shuffling pretty much now, due to a recent very disastrous fall. The chuckles were genuine, and I’ve never laughed SO HARD in my life than with my Mom. If we’re both home & the time is right, & when we least expect it, we get each other belly-laughing till I’m gasping for air.

I mentioned in a piece a few years ago, & it remains true today that my Mom, by a lengthy landslide, is my favorite person on earth. We both are well aware not to take our lives so seriously at times, placing our ultimate values in our strong faith in God, who did give us, His children, after all, the gift of humor.

Lots of loving,

Colossally caring,

Terrifically thoughtful,

Fabulously fun,

Invaluably important in my life – all that she is. And . . .

One dynamic of our tightknit relationship includes a kind of insulting humor we both find rib-ticklingly HY-STER-IC-AL – cuz we know each other so deeply well that we know we’re not being serious when we jokingly but intentionally hurl potentially – but again, not actually since we both know we’re kidding – hurtful humor at one another.

Last night I was on the receiving end of the all-in-good-fun silliness. It’s no secret that I’m a hardcore foodie; thus, I place no importance whatsoever on myself possessing a flat-as-a-pancake (Btw, I LOVE Cracker Barrel’s blueberry pancakes!) midsection & clearly have no qualms about it:

About her “20 minutes” comment, my Mom & I shared a SIDE-SPLITTING laugh sitting on the same couch. Our intense chuckling caused my gradual sliding down on the couch, exposing my white belly in all its gourmet glory!

Rather reluctant at first to speak her mind on what I resembled at that very moment, I repeatedly pressed my sweet Mother until she (begrudgingly) revealed her latest uproarious insult of love: 

“A beached whale comes to mind.”

LISA 044

 

The End

By Amy, 6.5.12

 

2 thoughts on ““Shamu”

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