Conversation #442: Why Pi is infinite
Prologue:
Thoughts swaying with the music, words churn in my stomach, turning into something to say. Or perhaps this is just lunch digesting.
My life feels like a Picasso Painting. My life is bits and pieces scattered all over the canvas and it’s the color of me that pulls it all together.
~~~~
My life feels like a Picasso Painting. My life is bits and pieces scattered all over the canvas and it’s the color of me that pulls it all together.
~~~~
Act I: Two Stubborn Women Dancing -
We meet our heroine in the middle of it all.
GoGo: I’ll be there on Thursday morning, around 9am.
Mom: Are you sure, its really bad weather and I don’t want my baby to get hurt.
GoGo: (What am I suckling from your nipple still! I do not say this, I think it.) I’ve been driving in bad weather for years, Mom. I know how to slow down and scrape the windows. You are aware your baby is 30-years-old. I would prefer to not be called your baby, Mom.
Mom: You will always be my baby. I can’t help but worry.
GoGo: Thank you for birthing me and for teaching me the word Vagina instead of Woowoo. Thank you for raising me and feeding me, but Mom, I need you to see I am an adult now. I appreciate your worry, but I really don’t appreciate being called your baby.
Mom: I know you’re a beautiful woman. You’re very smart and you can make your own decisions, but you will always be my baby.
GoGo: I need you to listen to me. I need you to stop calling me your baby. I am not in diapers. I am not suckling from your breast. I am not going goo goo and gaa gaa. If you see I am a beautiful woman then I need you to show it by stop calling me your baby.
Mom: You will always be my baby.
At this point in the conversation, I am angry. I feel little and powerless and just want to call the whole damn thing off. I want to run to my teacher and tell her this was the most asinine assignment I ever had. I want to scream because I feel so unheard, so invisible, so isolated and I want to tell my Mother if she doesn’t listen I’ll never talk to her again. In short, I want to be passive aggressive and write condesending things about her on my blog. I have lost my voice, my composure, my direction. Then I remember something from class.
GoGo: How would you feel if Grandma called you her little baby?
Mom: I wish she would. I was an adult before I ate solid food. I was never her baby.
GoGo: I’m sorry you weren’t able to be a little girl. It seems important for you to be the parent you never had.
We meet our heroine in the middle of it all.
GoGo: I’ll be there on Thursday morning, around 9am.
Mom: Are you sure, its really bad weather and I don’t want my baby to get hurt.
GoGo: (What am I suckling from your nipple still! I do not say this, I think it.) I’ve been driving in bad weather for years, Mom. I know how to slow down and scrape the windows. You are aware your baby is 30-years-old. I would prefer to not be called your baby, Mom.
Mom: You will always be my baby. I can’t help but worry.
GoGo: Thank you for birthing me and for teaching me the word Vagina instead of Woowoo. Thank you for raising me and feeding me, but Mom, I need you to see I am an adult now. I appreciate your worry, but I really don’t appreciate being called your baby.
Mom: I know you’re a beautiful woman. You’re very smart and you can make your own decisions, but you will always be my baby.
GoGo: I need you to listen to me. I need you to stop calling me your baby. I am not in diapers. I am not suckling from your breast. I am not going goo goo and gaa gaa. If you see I am a beautiful woman then I need you to show it by stop calling me your baby.
Mom: You will always be my baby.
At this point in the conversation, I am angry. I feel little and powerless and just want to call the whole damn thing off. I want to run to my teacher and tell her this was the most asinine assignment I ever had. I want to scream because I feel so unheard, so invisible, so isolated and I want to tell my Mother if she doesn’t listen I’ll never talk to her again. In short, I want to be passive aggressive and write condesending things about her on my blog. I have lost my voice, my composure, my direction. Then I remember something from class.
GoGo: How would you feel if Grandma called you her little baby?
Mom: I wish she would. I was an adult before I ate solid food. I was never her baby.
GoGo: I’m sorry you weren’t able to be a little girl. It seems important for you to be the parent you never had.
Mom: Yes.
GoGo: I need you to be a parent to a 30-year-old woman, Mom.
Mom: You’re still my baby.
Long pause.
GoGo: Fine, you're paying for my gas then.
Mom: Deal, I'll even throw in breakfast.
GoGo: I'm not wearing a bib.
Mom: Of course not, you're a 30-year-old woman.
posted by GoGo | 4:12 PM
10 Comments:
Sorry about this, but I'm with your mom - Mr. Man will always be MY baby. :)
I would hope so. I want everyone to side with my Mom on this one. Its the stubborness on both ends that is humorous.
Still, I'd suggest asking Mr. Man how he is feeling today when he is 30 and not "How's my baby feeling?"
~GoGo
Damn good post! But I will have to take your mom's side on this one! : )
Chiming in as another one who knows where your Mom's coming from ... frustrating as it might be to be on the other end :-)
I love the ending to your write-up, by the way!
Wonderfully comic ending.
Ps. At almost 38 my parents still call me "little button", but I have to admit I like it;)
I love these posts "conversations with mom". I hope that you have a good time with her today, and that you accept that you will always be her baby no matter how old you get. Oh and all families have hidden drama, so I am sure your professor will not be surprised by what he/she will read.
Be gentle,
Heather
I remember being horrified when my grandmother told me that my dad would always be "her baby" (a 44 year old man, I might add). Now, I have my own little fellows (whose future daughters will probably be horrified when I prefer to them, in their mid-forties, as "my babies."). It all comes full circle.
Love this post. Love all of them. Your mom is a jewel. xo
Aw, growing pains no matter what the age! Sigh. It's inevitable - parents find it hard to let go. But good for you for standing up for yourself (and until you're out of school, you still deserve gas money). Maybe if your mom just said you're still my daughter, even though you're 30 years old, rather than still my baby? :)
I don't take the gas money. I am able eough to take care of my own needs, but it was a fun response to her need to call me her baby.
~GoGo
Great ending!
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