Sometimes a Great Notion...
This is what’s happening in my house this week, I bet this is happening all over America. It proves that you need incredible strength to raise a teenager; strength to handle their crisis, strength to get through sleepless nights of worry, and strength not to laugh in the face of their moronic logic.
My daughter opened the huge gift wrapped box and stared at her graduation gift in horrified disbelief.... “Luggage? You got me luggage? What did I ever do to deserve luggage for a graduation gift? I need a car!”
““What did I ever do to deserve luggage for a graduation gift?”" I repeated silently in my mind. “Oh, let me count the ways,” I thought, “you have aggravated me to the breadth and depths and height's my soul can reach... You have tested every limit, broken every rule, manipulated every situation you could, lied, gotten your friends to cover your lies in exchange for covering theirs, dated and attempted to bring into my home men I would have scraped off the bottom of my shoe, just to spite me.” That’s what I was thinking, and after all, it’s the thought that counts...
So I said, “It’s a very nice matching six piece set! Monogrammed no less. It wasn’t cheap. 10 year warranty. It will last you a long time. What’s not to like?”
“It’s luggage! LUGGAGE! I’m your child, why are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Wait, I’m confused,“ I said, stifling a giggle, “for the past four years haven’t you said “I’m NOT a child anymore stop treating me like one!” and “I can’t wait to graduate and get away from you! You are such a control freak!” Wasn’t that you?”
“I was a kid. What did you expect me to say?”
“So you’re still a kid and I can expect you to obey me, or you’re not a kid and you’re responsible for yourself just like an.....adult?”
“I’m not a kid, but I’m still your child and your responsibility till I’m 18 and there’s nothing you can do about it!”
Suppressing my laughter and employing years of discipline to keep a straight face while talking to a teenager, I said, “You’re eighteen in 27 days. Adulthood, you know.....that big nasty thing in the rearview mirror of your life I’ve been warning you about...will be here in 28 days. Since you’re not planning on college anymore, you’ll have to make plans, which will include moving out. I thought the luggage would help. It’s not a car, but hey, each piece has wheels like a car and can hold all your clothes like a car, and if you make a ‘broooom, brooom’, sound, you can pretend it’s a car. Luggage is how people moved before cars were invented. I know I’ve said this before, but maybe you’re in a mental space to hear this now....If you got a JOB, you would be paid MONEY which you can use to buy a CAR.”
“Look, I just want to have my Senior summer off, okay? I want have fun with my friends. I’m so stressed out I can’t even think!”
“You finished classes in January. You worked a job three days and quit. Since then, you’ve done whatever you wanted. You’re here once a week to do laundry, eat everything in the kitchen, fight with me, get money and leave. Exactly what stress are you under?” I am now covering my mouth with my hand to help keep from laughing out loud because if I do, she’ll get furious that I’m not taking her seriously and then we’ll have to have this conversation again next week.
“You don’t know anything about my life.”
“So tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Okay don’t. It’s your life.”
“But if I told you what was going on, you’d understand me a lot more and have more sympathy.”
“So tell me.”
“I can’t. It’s too complicated. I have to please everyone, my boyfriend, all my friends, and you too.”
“You don’t please me. You have no plans for your future and you're dating a bum.”
"You are so judgemental! Why can't you give him a chance? Why do you hate him?"
"Well, let's see...he's a high school drop out, 21 years old, did a year in prison for drugs, has a five year old illegitimate child he doesn't pay support for, unemployed, sleeps on bean bags on the floor of his best friends apartment who deals drugs, no car, no money, and uses my daughter for sex and money.... you're right! What's not to like?"
“You see? No one can please you!
“Okay, so if you move in with the guys you’re essentially living with now, you won’t have to please me at all and you’ll have less stress, right?”
“You see how controlling you are? You know I can’t move in with them until I can pay them rent. You always get all up in my business! That’s why I’m never home. I CAN’T LIVE WITH YOU!”
“Wait.....wait.....wait...... I have this really great idea......”
Monday, May 30, 2005
Monday, May 16, 2005
Graduate and GET LOST!
Wailing and Whaling
It’s that time of year that destroys parents’ budgets; proms, graduation, graduation parties, graduation party DWI’s, graduation party arrests, graduation party bail bonds, graduation party pregnancies, graduation property damage lawsuits...ahhhh youth......
Some people divide America between Democrats and Republicans. I divide them between the golf people and the boat people. I don’t understand golf people much because I’m a boat person. Golf people are mean to me. I went golfing for the first time with coworkers years ago. They laughed at me all day because the only thing I could use was the putter. At the end of the day, in the pro shop, the pro said, “Show me your stance.” My coworkers, who were golf people, guffawed as a restrained smile came across the pro’s face as I lined up the curved side of the club with the imaginary ball on the carpet of the shop. Then he said to me, “You’re left handed.” I said, “Thanks, I know.” The pro excused himself to the back of the shop where he could laugh at me in private. That’s how I learned that golf people hate left handed people....
After my exposure to the golf people, I realized I was better off with my own kind. So I returned to the boat people whose ropes, crab nets and outboards don’t care if you’re right or left handed. Moreover, you don’t have to own a whole boat to be a boat person. Right now my boat consists of a very nice bell and some seat cushions. You’re allowed to acquire your boat slowly over time. I’m gathering all my deck stuff and coolers now. In time, I’ll put a hull under all this stuff and eventually some salt water under the hull. A lot of boat people acquire their boats this way, in incremental pieces. High school graduation, while an important passage in a parents’ life signifying their impending freedom, has drastic effects on their boat acquisition schedule.
As graduating Seniors look out into the audience, they will see their parents wailing. The kids will be thinking, “Gee, Mom and Dad are crying because they love me so much and they hate to see me grow up and leave them.” Maybe the golf parents will be thinking that, but not the boat parents. The boat parents will be thinking:
“$125 for prom shoes.....$87.50 for the graduation shoes.. why couldn’t she wear the prom shoes to graduation? I could’a got 6 pairs topsiders for her two crappy pairs.”
“Why do they need a limo to go anywhere? For the price of that limo rental I coulda got that used boat trailer. I got that nice outboard now....but what if I find a boat this summer ? I got no trailer.....”
“$472 for Prom dress? $256.32 for a school ring. $75 for a yearbook.... that could’a been mine...my mooring fees and maybe a little canvas...”
“$92 for rented tuxedo. $121 for puke removal from rented tuxedo. $168 for rented tuxedo shoes because he lost one on the beach.....could'a bought the polymer and brushes to refinish the deck.”
“$1157 property damage to repair the Smith’s fence... $750 to re-sod the tire tracks from their lawn....$538 to replace ceramic lawn trolls from Germany.... Look at him smiling at me from the stage, that little shit.... He thinks I’m crying because I’m sad to see him graduate and go. Tears of joy my man! The next boat you sink will be your own.”
“$368 for the gold class ring. She had to have the gold one. Had to have it, would die without it. She can’t find it now. It might be at Brittany’s house....it might be a Mike’s... it might be sleeping with the fishes....”Daddy, don’t be so materialistic,” she says, “it’s just a ring, what’s the big deal?” Paint, my dear, enough marine paint for the whole boat. You know my boat? The one sitting in the back yard because it needs PAINT?”
“That’s right, smile and wave at me, Kenny....you’re 18 in three days. You move out in four. But you don’t know that yet. You think Daddy and I got you that van for graduation because we love you. Bet you don’t know that the back seat flips down to create enough cubic feet for all your stuff, and most importantly, your sleeping bag..... Our new boarder will pay us $500 a month for your room and kitchen privileges. That’s right baby, Mommy’s smiling out here in the audience because she’s thinkin’ Boston Whaler, chilled wine, and Daddy in the moonlight ....”
It’s that time of year that destroys parents’ budgets; proms, graduation, graduation parties, graduation party DWI’s, graduation party arrests, graduation party bail bonds, graduation party pregnancies, graduation property damage lawsuits...ahhhh youth......
Some people divide America between Democrats and Republicans. I divide them between the golf people and the boat people. I don’t understand golf people much because I’m a boat person. Golf people are mean to me. I went golfing for the first time with coworkers years ago. They laughed at me all day because the only thing I could use was the putter. At the end of the day, in the pro shop, the pro said, “Show me your stance.” My coworkers, who were golf people, guffawed as a restrained smile came across the pro’s face as I lined up the curved side of the club with the imaginary ball on the carpet of the shop. Then he said to me, “You’re left handed.” I said, “Thanks, I know.” The pro excused himself to the back of the shop where he could laugh at me in private. That’s how I learned that golf people hate left handed people....
After my exposure to the golf people, I realized I was better off with my own kind. So I returned to the boat people whose ropes, crab nets and outboards don’t care if you’re right or left handed. Moreover, you don’t have to own a whole boat to be a boat person. Right now my boat consists of a very nice bell and some seat cushions. You’re allowed to acquire your boat slowly over time. I’m gathering all my deck stuff and coolers now. In time, I’ll put a hull under all this stuff and eventually some salt water under the hull. A lot of boat people acquire their boats this way, in incremental pieces. High school graduation, while an important passage in a parents’ life signifying their impending freedom, has drastic effects on their boat acquisition schedule.
As graduating Seniors look out into the audience, they will see their parents wailing. The kids will be thinking, “Gee, Mom and Dad are crying because they love me so much and they hate to see me grow up and leave them.” Maybe the golf parents will be thinking that, but not the boat parents. The boat parents will be thinking:
“$125 for prom shoes.....$87.50 for the graduation shoes.. why couldn’t she wear the prom shoes to graduation? I could’a got 6 pairs topsiders for her two crappy pairs.”
“Why do they need a limo to go anywhere? For the price of that limo rental I coulda got that used boat trailer. I got that nice outboard now....but what if I find a boat this summer ? I got no trailer.....”
“$472 for Prom dress? $256.32 for a school ring. $75 for a yearbook.... that could’a been mine...my mooring fees and maybe a little canvas...”
“$92 for rented tuxedo. $121 for puke removal from rented tuxedo. $168 for rented tuxedo shoes because he lost one on the beach.....could'a bought the polymer and brushes to refinish the deck.”
“$1157 property damage to repair the Smith’s fence... $750 to re-sod the tire tracks from their lawn....$538 to replace ceramic lawn trolls from Germany.... Look at him smiling at me from the stage, that little shit.... He thinks I’m crying because I’m sad to see him graduate and go. Tears of joy my man! The next boat you sink will be your own.”
“$368 for the gold class ring. She had to have the gold one. Had to have it, would die without it. She can’t find it now. It might be at Brittany’s house....it might be a Mike’s... it might be sleeping with the fishes....”Daddy, don’t be so materialistic,” she says, “it’s just a ring, what’s the big deal?” Paint, my dear, enough marine paint for the whole boat. You know my boat? The one sitting in the back yard because it needs PAINT?”
“That’s right, smile and wave at me, Kenny....you’re 18 in three days. You move out in four. But you don’t know that yet. You think Daddy and I got you that van for graduation because we love you. Bet you don’t know that the back seat flips down to create enough cubic feet for all your stuff, and most importantly, your sleeping bag..... Our new boarder will pay us $500 a month for your room and kitchen privileges. That’s right baby, Mommy’s smiling out here in the audience because she’s thinkin’ Boston Whaler, chilled wine, and Daddy in the moonlight ....”
Monday, May 09, 2005
Runaway Bride...Keep Running!
Okay, so this girl gets cold feet and takes a bus ACROSS THE COUNTRY to escape her wedding. Her boyfriend goes on the news and says he forgives her and will still marry her. Geez... you’d think he’d get the hint..
We all know the courtship initiation dance. You notice each other. You make excuses to accidentally bump into each other. Women spend hours selecting the right outfit, doing hair and make-up, all in preparation for that critical accidental meeting. He suggests coffee, which comes out of his mouth as, “Uh... you wanna have coffee sometime?” But which registers in a woman’s mind as, “GAME ON!!!”
But something we never quite get organized is an exit strategy. We always hope we won’t need one, but usually we do. It always amazes me how long our body and mind gives us hints before our soul believes it.
The honeymoon phase, the first three months, feels so great it addicts us for life to try to get that feeling back. We all know the honeymoon phase will end and we all hope that the residual feelings will be good enough to continue to float the relationship. Sometimes they are and we can grow that into love and marriage.
Usually, the residual feelings aren’t good enough to keep us going, but it takes us awhile to realize it. I don’t know what men notice, but women start to notice small things first. One day, all of a sudden, the smell of stale beer being poured out in the sink disgusts you. Dumping out full ashtrays angers you. The sound of multiple belts slapping against his closet door and waking you in the morning sounds like a freight train roaring by the bed. His dragon breath morning kiss which was tolerable and almost endearing two months ago is now so awful you’ll get up before him and make coffee.
Little resentments add up, but you keep excusing them away until the three deadly signs show up. The three signs sent by the woman’s brain tell her soul, “Do what you want, but we are outta here!”. First, you start to avoid his calls and you feel annoyed that he’s calling again. Second, you can’t deny that you feel relieved to be alone, either in his place or yours. When he finally leaves the house, you feel a wave of pressure release. Now, women can ignore these two final warnings for a little while, but then the third and final ‘killer diller’ happens... you get that deep internal shudder of repulsion with it’s dash of nausea, through your whole body when he kisses you. You can have sex and escape it, but somehow an intimate kiss is such a direct connect you couldn’t fake it anymore even if you wanted to. The first time it happens, you know in that instant, it’s over and ain’t nuthin’ to do about it. So now, you have to find the exit...
Terminating a relationship is like taking a Band-Aid off his hairy arm. You can do it fast or slow, either way, he’s going to get hurt to some extent.
Some women take what I call the Path of the Bitch. This is when you turn into a bad girlfriend to drive him away. It always works, but it can take months to drive off a guy because you’re still sleeping with him and cooking for him because you feel guilty about wanting to leave. Men will tolerate anything if they’re getting sex and food. The Path of the Bitch ends when you stop giving him food and sex at which point he says, “Is something wrong?” By now, all your feelings for him are gone and you just pack and run.
Then there’s the Path of the Nice Girl. This is when you kindly enumerate for him all the reasons why things aren’t working out. He swears to change and you agree to stay in the relationship while he changes. Meanwhile, you expose him to every female you can in the hope he will leave you for her. Of course he’s still getting food and sex, so you can be sure nothing will change. Nice Girls often slide out of one relationship by starting another, even with a less desirable guy.
Ultimately, there’s the Path of Paul. You see, Paul Simon, said it best in his song, “There Must Be Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover”. Download this song, write down all the methods listed. Any one of them is perfect ! ”Just slip out the back, Jack. Make a new plan, Stan. ... Hop on the bus, Gus. You don’t need to discuss much... Just drop off the key, Lee... and get yourself free....”
We all know the courtship initiation dance. You notice each other. You make excuses to accidentally bump into each other. Women spend hours selecting the right outfit, doing hair and make-up, all in preparation for that critical accidental meeting. He suggests coffee, which comes out of his mouth as, “Uh... you wanna have coffee sometime?” But which registers in a woman’s mind as, “GAME ON!!!”
But something we never quite get organized is an exit strategy. We always hope we won’t need one, but usually we do. It always amazes me how long our body and mind gives us hints before our soul believes it.
The honeymoon phase, the first three months, feels so great it addicts us for life to try to get that feeling back. We all know the honeymoon phase will end and we all hope that the residual feelings will be good enough to continue to float the relationship. Sometimes they are and we can grow that into love and marriage.
Usually, the residual feelings aren’t good enough to keep us going, but it takes us awhile to realize it. I don’t know what men notice, but women start to notice small things first. One day, all of a sudden, the smell of stale beer being poured out in the sink disgusts you. Dumping out full ashtrays angers you. The sound of multiple belts slapping against his closet door and waking you in the morning sounds like a freight train roaring by the bed. His dragon breath morning kiss which was tolerable and almost endearing two months ago is now so awful you’ll get up before him and make coffee.
Little resentments add up, but you keep excusing them away until the three deadly signs show up. The three signs sent by the woman’s brain tell her soul, “Do what you want, but we are outta here!”. First, you start to avoid his calls and you feel annoyed that he’s calling again. Second, you can’t deny that you feel relieved to be alone, either in his place or yours. When he finally leaves the house, you feel a wave of pressure release. Now, women can ignore these two final warnings for a little while, but then the third and final ‘killer diller’ happens... you get that deep internal shudder of repulsion with it’s dash of nausea, through your whole body when he kisses you. You can have sex and escape it, but somehow an intimate kiss is such a direct connect you couldn’t fake it anymore even if you wanted to. The first time it happens, you know in that instant, it’s over and ain’t nuthin’ to do about it. So now, you have to find the exit...
Terminating a relationship is like taking a Band-Aid off his hairy arm. You can do it fast or slow, either way, he’s going to get hurt to some extent.
Some women take what I call the Path of the Bitch. This is when you turn into a bad girlfriend to drive him away. It always works, but it can take months to drive off a guy because you’re still sleeping with him and cooking for him because you feel guilty about wanting to leave. Men will tolerate anything if they’re getting sex and food. The Path of the Bitch ends when you stop giving him food and sex at which point he says, “Is something wrong?” By now, all your feelings for him are gone and you just pack and run.
Then there’s the Path of the Nice Girl. This is when you kindly enumerate for him all the reasons why things aren’t working out. He swears to change and you agree to stay in the relationship while he changes. Meanwhile, you expose him to every female you can in the hope he will leave you for her. Of course he’s still getting food and sex, so you can be sure nothing will change. Nice Girls often slide out of one relationship by starting another, even with a less desirable guy.
Ultimately, there’s the Path of Paul. You see, Paul Simon, said it best in his song, “There Must Be Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover”. Download this song, write down all the methods listed. Any one of them is perfect ! ”Just slip out the back, Jack. Make a new plan, Stan. ... Hop on the bus, Gus. You don’t need to discuss much... Just drop off the key, Lee... and get yourself free....”
Monday, May 02, 2005
Mother's Day? Oy Vey!
Happy Mother’s Day!
I have two friends who opted to stay on their professional career paths and not have children. They have plenty of money, drive late model cars, own their own houses. They know the differences between different cruise lines. They’ve been to several other countries. They have flat stomachs, few wrinkles, perky boobs, men still pursue them, and they are extremely happy with their choice not to have children.
I stayed in that group as long as I could until I got pregnant and then they threw me out! I tried to convince them that motherhood doesn’t necessarily follow pregnancy. I could leave the kid on the steps of a convent, or on a ride in Disneyland, or maybe in a booth in a restaurant... I figured somebody would notice it and pick it up. But they said they’d heard that before, and that if I looked at it after it was born, I’d probably want to take it home, then I’d probably feed it, and it would be all downhill from there.
They were right.. and two years later they were right again. But they were not right about it being all downhill. There are some plateau’s along the way and there is a bottom. I know for instance, that three or four weeks after I’m dead, I’ll be able to stop worrying about the kids. By that time I’ll have met with their guardian angels and reviewed their list of things to guard and I will make it clear to these angels, that I will be watching them, so they’d better not slack off.
For the career gals who just fell off the wagon and motherhood is now less than nine months away, here are my pointers and advice.
* Any kitchen utensils you can’t find, are outside in the dirt.
* You will have sticky floors and a filthy oven for the next eighteen years.
* To insure a clean refrigerator, invite your mother over at least once a month. If your mother is not the “I have to clean something whenever I visit my daughter” type, you can rent mine for $10 a pop. She not only cleans, she scolds your husband for not helping you more!
* If your hubby thinks that working 40 hours a week is equivalent to 168 hours a week (that’s 24 hours times 7), arrange to leave for a weekend and don’t leave him any instructions since he thinks it’s so easy. The kids won’t die and he will learn a lot.
My ex made it nearly 16 hours before calling me. He was napping on the couch when our 2 year old son beaned him with a full juice bottle. He woke to discover our 4 year old daughter loved making cakes from scratch and could turn on the oven herself; his wallet and one shoe were in the toilet; and the cat had vomited. I would have listened to his pathetic yammering, but I was pool side at a friend’s house and besides.....”how hard is it to watch two kids?”
* Your vacuum is your best friend. Never mind getting one that can filter out bacteria smaller than one micron, get the one that sucks up Barbie shoes and raisinets and come with a fine comb attachment to suction out head lice.
* You’ll have to read “Goodnight Moon” two to four times a night depending on whether or not you came up with an acceptable reason to give them cold formula tylenol.
* Don’t buy any new furniture till they leave home, besides, you can’t afford it anyway.
* Don’t believe the advertisements, no car seat is easy to install or wrangle. You’re better off putting the kid in the trunk if you can pull it off.
* Stop watching the news because anything happening to any child anywhere will make you crazy.
* You won’t be able to read anything longer than a Reader’s Digest article for a long time.
* Remember how you ridiculed women who watched soap’s? I couldn’t fathom how anyone could watch that crap before I was a mom. Soap’s become your friend. They show you that somewhere women have shirts without stains. Somewhere, romantic evenings are still taking place. Somewhere women have matching sheet sets.
For me, it was seeing a beautifully set table. My eyes would travel from the TV table to my table full of tupperware and Beauty and the Beast bowls and then quickly back to the TV so I could delve into the fantasy of a small festive dinner party with friends. As I watched, my fingertips would glide over my table in search of stuck cherrio's to pick off.
So what’s the upside? Well, once I got a bouquet of dandelions, snapped off at the heads, handed to me from a sticky hand. My daughter beamed as she said, “I pick these for my best mother I know...”
I have two friends who opted to stay on their professional career paths and not have children. They have plenty of money, drive late model cars, own their own houses. They know the differences between different cruise lines. They’ve been to several other countries. They have flat stomachs, few wrinkles, perky boobs, men still pursue them, and they are extremely happy with their choice not to have children.
I stayed in that group as long as I could until I got pregnant and then they threw me out! I tried to convince them that motherhood doesn’t necessarily follow pregnancy. I could leave the kid on the steps of a convent, or on a ride in Disneyland, or maybe in a booth in a restaurant... I figured somebody would notice it and pick it up. But they said they’d heard that before, and that if I looked at it after it was born, I’d probably want to take it home, then I’d probably feed it, and it would be all downhill from there.
They were right.. and two years later they were right again. But they were not right about it being all downhill. There are some plateau’s along the way and there is a bottom. I know for instance, that three or four weeks after I’m dead, I’ll be able to stop worrying about the kids. By that time I’ll have met with their guardian angels and reviewed their list of things to guard and I will make it clear to these angels, that I will be watching them, so they’d better not slack off.
For the career gals who just fell off the wagon and motherhood is now less than nine months away, here are my pointers and advice.
* Any kitchen utensils you can’t find, are outside in the dirt.
* You will have sticky floors and a filthy oven for the next eighteen years.
* To insure a clean refrigerator, invite your mother over at least once a month. If your mother is not the “I have to clean something whenever I visit my daughter” type, you can rent mine for $10 a pop. She not only cleans, she scolds your husband for not helping you more!
* If your hubby thinks that working 40 hours a week is equivalent to 168 hours a week (that’s 24 hours times 7), arrange to leave for a weekend and don’t leave him any instructions since he thinks it’s so easy. The kids won’t die and he will learn a lot.
My ex made it nearly 16 hours before calling me. He was napping on the couch when our 2 year old son beaned him with a full juice bottle. He woke to discover our 4 year old daughter loved making cakes from scratch and could turn on the oven herself; his wallet and one shoe were in the toilet; and the cat had vomited. I would have listened to his pathetic yammering, but I was pool side at a friend’s house and besides.....”how hard is it to watch two kids?”
* Your vacuum is your best friend. Never mind getting one that can filter out bacteria smaller than one micron, get the one that sucks up Barbie shoes and raisinets and come with a fine comb attachment to suction out head lice.
* You’ll have to read “Goodnight Moon” two to four times a night depending on whether or not you came up with an acceptable reason to give them cold formula tylenol.
* Don’t buy any new furniture till they leave home, besides, you can’t afford it anyway.
* Don’t believe the advertisements, no car seat is easy to install or wrangle. You’re better off putting the kid in the trunk if you can pull it off.
* Stop watching the news because anything happening to any child anywhere will make you crazy.
* You won’t be able to read anything longer than a Reader’s Digest article for a long time.
* Remember how you ridiculed women who watched soap’s? I couldn’t fathom how anyone could watch that crap before I was a mom. Soap’s become your friend. They show you that somewhere women have shirts without stains. Somewhere, romantic evenings are still taking place. Somewhere women have matching sheet sets.
For me, it was seeing a beautifully set table. My eyes would travel from the TV table to my table full of tupperware and Beauty and the Beast bowls and then quickly back to the TV so I could delve into the fantasy of a small festive dinner party with friends. As I watched, my fingertips would glide over my table in search of stuck cherrio's to pick off.
So what’s the upside? Well, once I got a bouquet of dandelions, snapped off at the heads, handed to me from a sticky hand. My daughter beamed as she said, “I pick these for my best mother I know...”
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