The Crazy German Lady AKA: Mom

So let me tell you about my mom. It has taken many years of therapy and copious amount of alcohol for me to figure out what makes her tick. She's not a horrible mom, I mean she didn't deliberately set out to mess me up but well, I'm certainly NOT normal. Mom is from The Old Country. Germany. Actually, she is Romanian by birth and was actually born in Transylvania. It's quite fitting. She grew up during the war and a lot of her behaviours stem from this horrible time in her life.
Now the things she does are just funny and odd.

She saves EVERYTHING! You know those styrofoam plates meat come on, yep she saves them. She has about 100 of them in the cupboard above the fridge. Hey you never know when there will be a world-wide shortage of styrofoam. And lets not get started on empty margarine dishes..... I plan on being out of the country when she and Dad decide to downgrade, either that or I take a match to the house.

Her fridge is crammed full of food. So are the 3 freezers and the huge pantry. There are jars of jelly that were canned in 1972. Guess who she brings them to? Expiry dates mean nothing. I have eaten sour cream that expired 3 months previous. I'm still alive. I have eaten questionable green meat and survived. I do not get food poisoning. I have a stomach of steel.

Her wardrobe nor her hairdo have been updated since the early 70's. And again, she feels the need to share her clothing treasures with me. Oh the flashbacks of horror I have to my teen years, always the kid with the polyester pants. I got beat up a lot for the clothes she made me wear.

Her opinion is the only one that counts. She hates the colour of my kitchen and has threatened for the last 4 years to come over while we are on vacation and repaint it. She has even gone as far as bringing painted samples over. The only thing holding her in check is the threat of my husband divorcing me. It could happen. He puts up with a lot of craziness from my family but this would put him over the edge.

She calls about once a week and I spend 30 mins repeating the same phrases over and over... "Yes Mom", "I know", "Uh-huh", "I will", "Yes I wear pantyhose when it's cold." "Yes Little J is wearing 7 layers of clothes."

She called the other night and I gave the phone to Little J to talk to Oma. 20 mins later I find him in bed,still on the phone with her, covers up over his head repeating "Yes Oma." "I know Oma."
I just about peed my pants laughing. Nice to see the family tradition continue.

The scariest thing of all...... I am turning into my mother!!! I have made a pact with all my friends and sane family members that if I go to far they call me 'Ann' and smack me upside the head. So far so good. :)

I have left Little J alone far to long by himself in the bathroom...I just hope he hasn't gotten into my mascara..that shits hard to get off.