Mother's Day Anecdotes
Yesterday, if you weren’t aware, was Mother’s Day. As the years go by I find that my mother doesn’t quite enjoy my hand paintings and macaroni encrusted picture frames as much as she had when I was five. Nowadays I simply opt for her favorite candies, which are so much her favorite that it has become almost mandatory with whatever else I intend to get. This candy has become so prevalent in holidays that I consider it a tax, an ‘Andrew’ tax if you will, that I’ll be paying for years to come due the hassle of raising me.
I wasn’t a terrible child, I was simply difficult. Anyone who knew me at my younger stages in life understand that I had little regard for authority, a wild penchant for trouble-making, and the curiousity of a rabid chipmunk. I would rip apart VCRs, push over large pieces of furniture, and stare at the sun. The fact that I am still standing here today is a testament to the sheer amount of work that it took to keep me chugging along all these years.
Much later in life after my ego had deflated I realized that I had my parents (and more specifically my mother) to thank in all this. We’ll never quite see eye- to-eye but it’d be silly to expect otherwise.
Mother’s Day is a grand occassion in my family. We hold a brunch/lunch of some sort at home or at some fancy restaurant and recount stories of yore. The stories are funny and the food in ample supply and delicious. Unfortunately, the conversation always comes back to me. I’m the oldest of the pool of kids that make up my cousins and quite frankly I have a much more interesting life than those glue eating brats.
Yesterday’s gathering was a little more fun because it would be the first time anyone would really know outside of my parents and sister that I’m working towards my doctorate degree. This is mainly because my parents don’t really like announcing news that hasn’t been set in stone, fossilized, and then dug back up out of the ground. I have no clue why, I just deal with it and start recounting what I’ve been doing the past year. Roughly translated from memory, here’s how it went:
Me: Yeah it’s been fun so far. I’ve been working crazy hard, there’s this cool –
Grandma: Isn’t so-and-so’s daughter doing a Ph.D?
Grandpa: Yes that’s right! And she’s around Andrew’s age isn’t she?
Uncle (who I might add, always does this to me): You’re single aren’t you? You should go and say hi.
Me: I’m still taking applications, it’s a long process. Loooot’s of paperwork
Grandma: I could introduce you, she’s a nice girl.
Aunt: Are you sure, I mean isn’t so-and-so’s daughter better looking?
Me: Wait, no, what?
Grandpa: No we’re joking, no girls for you until you graduate.
This has been happening at every family gathering recently. Working towards a doctorate degree is big news in my family, since no one really has anything close. I like to think I’m inspiring my younger cousins towards greatness. This is before they start throwing rocks at me and chasing me around the house. Then I pretend I’m godzilla and they’re little twigs or buildings and start pushing them around.∎