Tlips of the Sounge

My mother has been amusing me for years. Ever since I was a little girl, she has had some of the funniest slips of the tongue and misunderstandings. Hanging out with my mom is sort of like living in a sitcom.

Here are some examples:
Mom was talking about a recent court ruling. She was pretty sure the accused would get out of the death penalty, because he was going to flea bargain. FLEA bargain! She thought that was the correct term. She’s been using it her whole life.

I thought Mom was being funny when I saw she wrote Congradulations on a card to a new grad. When I told her, she asked me what I meant. It turns out she thought it was the correct spelling.

When I was eight, we were going through a drive thru at a local restaurant, and the person at the window asked Mom if she wanted condiments. Mom lost her temper. She asked the server, Don’t you think it is enough they are handing them out at schools and Planned Parenthood? Now, you are trying to hand them out with your meals? I calmed her down and (between laughter and embarrassment) managed to say, Mom, he said “condiments, not condoms! Oh, my mistake, she told the server and calmly drove away.

After church one time, she told some new visitors that she didn’t eat Sunday dinner with her clothes on. When we got in the car, they were still looking at us, and Mom realized she had left out the word “good” – with her good clothes on.

When the President was talking about finding weapons of mass destruction, she said how she was glad they hadn’t deplored yet. Mom – the word is deployed!

When my Dad was still living, he was driving a little too fast for my mother (with my mother 35 miles per hour is too fast). She demanded that he stop “whizzing” around out there.

She and my dad were talking about politics, and Mom couldn’t remember the name of the country she wanted to talk about. She kept telling my Dad it started with an “S.” We guessed every country we could think of with an “S,” and she kept shaking her head. So, she tried to start spelling it. Pointing her finger at us, she kept saying, “You know, S-O-B-... Stop laughing you guys. I know it’s S-O-B-… something, I just can’t remember the rest.” By the end of the whole ordeal, Dad and I were laid out on the floor in hysterics. We finally figured out the country. It was Portugal.

I heard my mom on the phone with my ultra-conservative Aunt Jan. “It’s a crock, Jan! Just a big crock!” I wondered what could possibly have agitated my normally calm mother into talking to my Aunt Jan like that. When I got closer, I saw she was describing her latest cross-stitch project – a drawing of an actual milk crock.

My boyfriend at the time (my husband now) and I were having a huge fight in the middle of my mom’s living room. Mom got us calmed down. She asked me what was wrong. When I got done telling my side of the story, she turned to my husband and said, Okay, we’ve heard the AT version, now, let’s hear the BS version. It was one of the best lines I’ve ever heard, and Mom was totally oblivious. I still use it today when I ask my husband if something is the truth or just the BS version.

But, as happens to all of us, I heard myself yesterday describing the rural neighborhood we live in. The words actually came out of my mouth. It’s not a neapolitan area. I said it. I admit it. Now, the person I was talking to knew I meant metropolitan, but she still couldn’t stop laughing.

Now, I guess I know how Mom feels.

And you know, if it is only one of the ways I end up being like her, I’d be more than happy with it. You know, if I didn’t live in an ice cream neighborhood and all.