Average Jane



Real Subtle, Mom.

I now take you to…. Mother’s Day. 2012. I’m just leaving my favorite coffee shop where I have enjoyed a delicious small iced Americano as prepared by the perfectly anonymous, absolutely gorgeous barrista I spend $3 a day to stand 3 feet from. I enjoyed aforementioned cup of caffeinated perfection next to a different handsome fellow reading a book on the ride of Theodore Roosevelt. He was a law student in my mind. He was delightful. We exchanged furtive glances that I probably imaged and then I went on my way to brunch with some new friends.

En route to brunch, feeling uncharacteristically confident and looking particularly adorable, I called my mom to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day. I got through my rousing rendition of “Happy Mother’s Day To You” (sung to the tune of… well, you know) and filled her in on my evening out on the town. It was an evening at a dive bar with 100 of my closest stranger-acquaintances who happen to be Jewish which was enough for her to get her little hopes up just high enough for me to beat them down to a bloody pulp. “No, mom. I didn’t meet anyone. Again. Can I stop playing with Jews yet?”

“No.”

Giggles filled the other end of the line. My mom is deliciously sincere. And frustratingly adorable. It was her day.

Then it came to the “I just read this article…” portion of the conversation. Sometimes she saves article clippings for me for MONTHS just to show me an article about some website I should check out sometime. She writes notes in the margins in her perfect script handwriting. “Heard about on NPR.” “Event on Aug 23.” Important pieces of information- names, facts, fates, URLS – underlined. Twice if it’s of particular importance (two months later when she hands it to me or gets impatient and puts it in the mail). But this was a Mother’s Day oral report.

“Jane – I read this article today about a group of people called Mothers by Choice. They’re these women who in their 40s decide that they don’t need a partner, but they really want a family. So they have babies all by themselves. But don’t worry. That’s still like 10 years away.”

“That’s… great, Mom. Thanks? I think?” Stunned. I could think of no follow up. I, of all people, was speechless.

“Wow. You took that a lot better than I expected.” Those giggles. Oh, Mom.

Not subtle. I got the hint.

Love you, Mom. And may you never, ever find this blog.

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