My first time with my mom;

Had not been about doing each other’s hair, or god forbid baking cookie dough. Never having eaten stuffed turkey, just slow boiled eggs of baby duckies – seriously. Not so much with the home made yummies, more of a I shit my pants past the appropriate age so she let me wallow in my by-product for the rest of the day until her analistic mother-hen instinct got the better of her.

Cute, huh?

Rest assured, all of those events were long ago. I’m healthy, not eating baby ducks, I’ll survive without the turkey and my bowels are in control.

My first time was watching the Dark Knight Rises with her in the theaters and she laughed at all the wrong places, quite extraordinarily at the precise scene when Christian Bale got pummeled in that underground prison hole. In my head, all I could think of was flashbacks of pretty much all comics that have at one point or another featured that unfortunate friend who gets the jab instead of the offender. Because of course all those present, ranging from teens to not so teen – a la my mom – would more likely gang on this ridiculous Asian girl who had the good notion to bring her mom, and her mom’s date to the movie theater, rather than the rambunctious middle aged lady slapping her knees and bending over to howl at her crotch. The scene was obviously brutal, which brings me to question why she never found humor in say, cooking me dinner and slamming her huge kitchen knife into a fat lump of raw meat.

Her laughter is a different story altogether;
It’s when I found out how incredibly nice she is after a couple glasses of wine that I appreciated her laughter; I finally see why guys urge girls to drink during a date. Her laughter offered much more of course – It was quite amusing to watch my mom mumble I love you to everyone every 5 minutes and the bemused reactions. I was touched, especially when you told me how deserving I was for that grand box of chocolates you tried to hide from me. Glasses of aged old fruits clearly refines your state of mind.

Sadly, you were drop dead sober during that movie; whilst slowly dying in that movie theater seat, she had not only laughed, but also pointed , gestured and heartily slapped me on the arm a couple times just to make sure everyone knew I came with her. It’s the only time she’s been so boastful of me. I’m hardly flattered. The time came when she opened her purse and asked might I be interested in eating some home-made-freshly-cut fruits with her in a glass bowl from Saran, which she kindly reminded me to thank her for she took the liberty to prepare and pack – thankyou very much – Why of course mom, I’d love for you to lean over me and gesture to your boyfriend across the stair way if he would care to have some also. It’s only logic sense to sneak your own food into the theater where everyone ate junks of carbonated soda with sugar and fat drenched popcorn and chips; complete logic sense..if only it had been something just as bad or worse. Guys, we sat there using small versions of forks, delicately munching on cantelope while Batman saved the world.

If you’re wondering how a box of cantelope lasted the movie, it didn’t. She bought a box of peeled oranges too. And possibly grapes.

At least she didn’t have the heart to spring this on me all at once, it was just my blessed oblivion.

Had it occur to me before that maybe it was not the norm to hang our under garments against all four side long windows of our car during a road trip in the states? Hmm, no, I mean if you think about it, we were using the sun’s energy, which is saving time and money spared at Laundromats, which I’ve also never heard of until I moved continents. And of course I had my mom to reassure me how completely mundane we are. But I was 9 (thankfully), so my under garments were doubtfully of anyone’s interest. And I could hardly speak a word of English so there’s no chance of me getting together with a sexy smoldering 13 year old, god forbid.

I also never realized that maybe a sensible mom really just hadn’t want two baby chicks in her apartment back in China when my sister and I begged for them. Or a baby Dalmatian that never failed to deliver two ton bricks of doggy manure every morning … all over our balcony. And howled to the rising sun at 6am. Maybe having a daughter that had enough sense to lose a turtle in her backyard and trusted that a guinea pig couldn’t run fast so she had let it loose on school grounds had pushed her over the edge.

I sense rebellion and childish vendetta.

But it’s okay mom, being a light weight and such a delicate shot when you gurgle down expensive wine, I still love you – especially when you’re tipsy.

Looking like an Asian version of Wendy ; my mother, ladies and gentlemen.
Looking like an Asian version of Wendy ; my mother, ladies and gentlemen.

Oh yeah, this is my first time talking about my mom instead of my dad in a praising sense..somewhat, you could say.