Corona Diaries: When I Wasn't a Clueless Mom

Almost every tchotchke in my house has a story.

Here is one of those tchotckes and this is its story.

We were out shopping in a pseudo-fancy store selecting fancy cheeses, meats, crackers and fruit for a New Year's charcuterie board. I grabbed some kind of goat cheese in the round and clumsily bumped the one next to it.

It rolled and rolled.

I laughed and a told my daughter to catch it before it got too far away, even as a another customer nearly crossed its path. I kept laughing as my eyes met with his. His gaze had an icy, somber and hostile demeanor that told me I, nor my daughter didn't belong at the pseudo-fancy discount store. I steeled myself and kept laughing almost out of spite as much as I laughed at the site of my kid racing the cheese wheel.

She caught it and returned it to its place.

That was 2016. A little over a month after the election.

My daughter knew something was off, so realizing she'd follow my lead, I suppressed my eye-roll and shrugged it off. We kept on and strolled into the wine aisle. I figured a few bottles would be appropriate for a New Year's toast.

Mom, why do people ask you things?

HUH?

Like, people always come up to you and ask you things. A lot. Especially about wine.

So I'm an expert wino now?

It may seem like that to you, but people don't ask me about things.

She'd clearly been hallucinating.

No sooner than the phrase left my lips, an elderly shopper said EXCUSE ME. WHAT KIND OF WINE DO YOU THINK WE SHOULD HAVE WITH FISH?

My daughter's face signaled an I TOLD YOU SO.

The truth is that I seriously don't know about what wines go with what. So I winged it. I told her as much as while suggesting a pinot grigio if she liked dry and fruity. She left with a bottle and a Thank you, honey while I wondered if my kid set the whole thing up.

Maybe it's because you look like a cool, artsy hippie person or something. I mean, look at your hat and your sweater. It's kind of a cool look, mom.

I blinked, confused and thankful that she thought her mom was a cool, artsy hippie in that moment, realizing that in the next moment, I could be the clueless mom.

Two years later, she gifted me this memento.
I still don't know anything about wine, though..

Comments

What 6 Christmas Songs Got Wrong

After Thanksgiving, a birthday party last week, another birthday party this week and Christmas coming up next week, I am officially overwhelmed. It'd take more time than I have to explain what yet needs to be done and if you're like me, you're probably overwhelmed and don't have the time nor inclination to read it all anyway. But even with an overflowing plate, I still love the Christmas season -- from setting up the Christmas tree that we got two weeks ago and decorated only yesterday, to lighting bayberry scented candles, to every Rankin & Bass Christmas Special, and the music. Oh, the music. Songs have a way of putting you in the Christmas spirit, warming your heart and next thing you know, you're hugging a stranger in the elevator. Okay, um...maybe that's just me. But alas, all songs are not created equal; and the following Christmas songs inspire and awaken anything but peace on earth and goodwill to men. 1. Christmas Shoes : This song makes my ...

Racism & Prejudice: Brothas from a Different Mother

Next week I’m attending a seminar on defining racism. Should be interesting because: 1) I’ve been living in the skin I’m in for nearly 43 years and I’d like to hear about any advancements on the topic; and 2) back in college, some class I took defined racism as movement, advancement or otherwise being prevented and/or restricted based upon race . Embedded in the definition was that racism took two parties – someone in power (the racist) and someone whose rights were being violated. So according to that definition, racism is an action , not an attitude . One is a disabling trespass while the other is prejudice . I tend to agree. It’s my belief that Martin Luther King and the thousands of civil rights fighters stood up against racism . They stood up against actions that prevented people from the pursuit of happiness – whether that meant voting, drinking from a common bubbler, or not ending up as Strange Fruit on a Poplar tree when all they wanted to do was g...

The Post I've Feared Writing

In the few years under my belt as a hack writer, I’ve read a lot of posts from a lot of other bloggers, hoping to pick up on the things that make a piece great or gripping. This nonprofessional research has turned up one thing: honesty. Honesty, as in Are-you-sure-you-wanna-say-that-out-loud honesty. Yeah. That. The great pieces have always been from writers who speak from their hearts and say things that are ironically funny, sometimes painful, but always glaringly, transparently, and sometimes embarrassingly, true. Bare. Truth. Transparency. That takes courage akin to walking on a frozen pond during the spring thaw. Think about it: we’ve all got stories that could make us great writers – even the hacks like me, but it’s all a question of courage: what are we willing to share? Are we willing to bare some uncomfortable things? In my case, it’s missing my mom. Oh, the coward in me will casually refer to losing her at a young age and wax philosophic a...

The Late Arrival

Search This Blog