My Mom Turns Thirty

I spent the day with my mom and sister.

We shopped and ate and got manicures.

The wedding ring on my finger and the voicemail filled with screaming children were the only reminders that I wasn’t the hippie teenager alternating between being Alex and being annoying. (Because ALEX is never annoying. Except when I refer to myself in the third person, of course.)

We went to the anti-kid Italian restaurant for dinner.

Me: Am I reading this right?  Does the menu say that if we order one pasta, we get another one to take home?
Me: Under Classic Pasta.
Me: Where are your glasses, Mom?
Mom: FINE.
Waitress: How may I help you?
Mom: What’s this about bringing pasta home?
Waitress: You can pick two of the nine pastas. One you get to bring home for tomorrow.
Mom: So you get two pastas for $12.95?
Waitress: Yes. One is cold with heating instruction.
Mom: Really?
Waitress: Yes.
Mom: Alex, does that answer your question?
Me: Yes, Mom.
Waitress: Are you sure?
Me: Yes! {sigh} Thank you.
Mom: We just order one?
Waitress: You order both and I’ll bring one already packaged up. {slowly inching away} I’ll be back to take your order. {nearly running}
Me: Mom. Ask her another question when she comes back. You know, JUST TO MAKE SURE.

Shut-up, Alex

Mom: By the way, your grandfather didn’t have an Italian accent.
Me: What?
Mom: Are you taking liberties in your blog?
Me: What? NO! He was from Italy. He had an accent. Katie, didn’t you think he had an accent?
Mom: He was born in Connecticut.
Mom: He might have been in the mafia, but he didn’t have an accent.
Me: Well, the mafia is probably the more important part.
Mom: Why were you even talking to your friends about your grandpa? Or did you make that part up, too?
Me: Katie, did you think Grandpa Joe had an accent?
Katie: {shrug} I certain didn’t think he DIDN’T have an accent.
Mom: When did you even talk to him?
Mom: You seem a little obsessed with this Italian stuff.
Me: I’ve written about it twice. (Unless you count my mention of Italian sausage and Italian subs.) And I DID lie to my high school friends about him being in the mafia.
Mom: Why were you talking about my dad to your friends?
Me: People used to stop me on the street and say: “Are you Italian?” So it came up a lot. Before I paled-up.
Mom: Well, he didn’t have an accent.
Me: I’ll be sure to note that in my blog. I don’t lie, you know.
Mom: I thought you mixed him up with your father-in-law.
Me: You thought I mixed up your Italian dad with my Ukrainian father-in-law?
Mom: My Connecticut dad. And it wasn’t poetic license?
Me: It was poetic never-talking-to-my-grandpa, I guess.

And this is why I didn’t go to college in my home state.

Or my mom didn’t let me go to college in my home state.

I can’t really remember, but I’m positive my grandmother was Canadian.

Alex Iwashyna

Alex Iwashyna went from a B.A. in philosophy to an M.D. to a SAHM, poet and writer by 30. She spends most of her writing time on, a humor blog (except when it's serious) about her husband fighting zombies, awkward attempts at friendship, and dancing like everyone is watching. She also has a soft spot for culture, politics, and rude Southern people who offend her Yankee sensibilities. She parents 2 elementary-aged children, 1 foster baby, 3 cats, and 1 puppy, who are all Southern but not rude. Yet.

18 thoughts to “My Mom Turns Thirty”

  1. That look from your mom is killing me! 🙂
    It’s probably because it’s late, but I’m seriously cracking up over here. I can imagine the same type of conversation with my mother!

  2. Seriously laughing like crazy right now. I had lunch with my mother today and I swear it’s like talking to a child sometimes. She is so serious about everything and remembers nothing. Maybe that’s why we only do lunch on her birthday despite the fact she lives two minutes from me.

  3. My Dad had eight brothers and sisters and no one knew the Name of their grandfather because children were not allowed to address adults. Half thought he was Leon. The other half thought it was Louis. It was Louis, Leon was his brother. They also knew he was Canadian, or maybe French.

    Now I’m the parent that’s taken to lunch so I watch my P’s and Q’s.

  4. That is hysterical! And it may have given me some insight in to why my daughter is looking at out of state colleges and gets such a funny look on her face when I say it would be easier to stay near home.

  5. I have these same conversations with MY mom…but then she ends up saying she may not remember correctly because she things she has Alzheimers. BUT! I would say she sounds a little too inquisitive about WHY you were talking about her father to your friends…kinda like he WAS in the mob if you ask me.

  6. I can’t decide what’s cracking me up more…the voicemails of screaming children, that look from your mom, Carolyn saying that talking to her mom is like talking to a child or that no one in Walt’s family knowing what his grandfather’s name is.

    So funny I’m going to read it again.

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