Monday, July 28, 2008

Dear Mom,

I would like to declare to you in a public and binding statement that you in no way played a part in the corruption of my mind. Nor did you ever influence my vocabulary with potty words. I think we should blame all of that on Dad. And the T.V. Especially MTV because as everyone knows, it's run by satan.

You made it clear to me on the phone the other day after you read my recent post that you did not find my colorful language very humorous, or lady like for that matter. And we who know you know that being a lady is something you value very much. You did a very good job of teaching me to act like a lady and so my "roughness" has nothing to do with you. It's my inner man. I call him Frank. Frank has a mind of his own, and even when I tell him to shush, I'm trying to act like a lady, he eventually pops out and I say something that makes just about everyone either chuckle or blush.

Mother, I am sorry that I am only 98% perfect and you have to chide me for my lack of grace. At least now you finally know that I'm human. I admire that you've never lowered your standards and resorted to abusing the English language like the rest of our family. You are content to sit innocently on the side lines and say, "what, what's so funny about the word tea bag?", and that is why we love you. Well, that is one of the many, many reasons we love you. The other reasons are because of all the ways you're perfect.

I hope that in time you'll be able to accept my potty mouth and inappropriate conversations because you know what's in my heart. Lots of love. And lots of inappropriate jokes. But mostly love. You know I don't make fun of other people (unless they're members of my family) and that if anyone is the brunt of a joke it's usually me. Me making fun of me. Or me making fun of Gordon. Or everyone making fun of Dad. I think it's just how we love each other. That and punching each other in the leg.

For the record, I love you to infinity and when I was a little girl and wanted to make myself cry all I had to do was think about moving out of the house and tears would start flying out of my eyes. Now all I have to do to cry is think about cleaning the house.

You should win an award.

Which award?

The award for the way people should be.


Lauren Robinson said...

Although I typically read your blog sitting in the shade of the tree of anonymity- this particular posting was enough to garner a comment. I find it important to note that I became aware (and by aware I mean freakishly obsessed) of your blog from Amanda Cooper Michelson WHO shouts the praises of your postings from the rooftops! When I first met Magnum, I got the whole story of his awesome pre-owner Jill who has this blog I just HAD to read. Then, I see this “buttonsmcsweet” character listed on her Facebook profile as a favorite website so I knew it must be worth checking out; because, if it’s worthy of Facebook status you know it must be first rate- the Constitution says so. So, here I’ve been- looking forward to the ab workout that I get just from reading your daily observations for the past month or so (which by the way, you might receive an invoice for a new computer monitor I will need from spitting my coffee out so many times while reading) and then I got to your latest. I can’t seem to figure out how I don’t remember you from childhood; I am pretty sure I only had 2 sisters and haven’t noticed you in our family albums… but I’m certainly convinced we have the same mother. Just tell your sweet, perfect ladylike mother that you don’t think any differently than the rest of the world, but you just have the kahunas to SAY those things- which I believe should be applauded. At least that’s the excuse I have planned for the Pearly Gates.

Jillian said...

Lauren Robinson,
Well Hello there and thank you so much for reading! Do you have a blog? Because I so thoroughly enjoyed reading your comment I would like to read more from you.

Thanks for your support of my heinous language and I'll be sure to tell my Mom that I'm not the only one out there who's failed their Mother's attempts at "lady-making". Perhaps it's a post-menopausal thing?