We were in the car the other day and Snoop Dogg's Gin and Juice came on.
It's the kind of song that sticks with you. And so a bit later, when I was singing under my breath and off-tune, "Laid back with my mind on my money and my money on my mind. . ."
Nick said, "Hey, let's play this at your parents house a lot and see if we can get Betty singing it."
Because he knows the AC/DC story. And he knows my mom, which makes it all the better. But anyone who reads LG knows I tell Betty stories all the time and that I am completely crazy about my mom.
She's one of my closest, closest friends. When nobody else in the room knows what I'm talking about, she will. And similarly, I speak Betty.
If I'm looking for support, she's a natural person to call. For even the most ridiculous thing.
Nick and I have been in a house temperature negotiation. If I could, I'd keep it at 78 all summer. He'd like it at 72, at which point I'm wearing fleece - no exaggeration.
So he suggested trying 74 degrees. Which means we've taken the comforter off the bed. His replacement suggestion was a wool blanket, but I'm allergic. And he was all, "You'll be fine till we get another blanket."
So I called Betty, partly to ask where she got this super soft synthetic blanket she gave me (but alas, fits my bed, not Nick's) and partly to tell on him.
I said, "Mama, Nick is trying to make me sleep with a wool blanket!"
She says this with exactly the horrified tone I am looking for. Like, the tone you might use in response to something like, "Nick tries to chew off my toes while I'm sleeping!"
"Tell him he can't do that!"
I turn to Nick. "Betty is appalled by your behavior."
For the longest time I took all these extraordinary abilities that she has for granted.
She can make just about anything. She can draw a pattern on paper and then sew the garment. Anyone who has ever tried to sew, much less create a pattern, or even just watched Project Runway, knows that this is completely phenomenal.
When we lived in Bangladesh Betty got really into dyeing and batik, and so of course I got to do batik as well. Looking back, the batik phase coincided with my nipple fascination faze. So everyone, both men and women, everyone I drew - or in this case waxed and dyed for all eternity, because cloth lasts shockingly forever - had nipples. Lots of beach scenes. Lots of nipples.
I'll have to find them and post them. They are ridiculous.
Anyway, I always took for granted that my mom had all these creative ideas and skills. And now I realize how exceptional they are.
If I have a kid, I hope I'm half as cool a mom as Betty.
I love you, mama. Happy Mother's Day!