Meet the Puddin' Folk

I got a request from UBERMOUTH, who will be leaving the blog world, to write more about my mother. So as a tribute to her, I thought why not write about where I get my good looks, charm and all around awesomeness? (I’m so humble, I know). I love making fun of mom and dad. Although I see less and less of them these days, they are still very much a part of my life…

My mom is great. I have a very Jewish mother, who every year sends me my birthday cake in the mail, with candles. Surprisingly enough, she would be the first person I would call to bail me out of jail. Not only because I know she would do it, but she would probably show up with a fresh pair of underwear and something to eat.

Growing up I think she had everything anyone could think of in her purse. Brush? Check. Spoon? Check. Toothbrush? Check. A midget? Check.

She is my inspiration.

Now my dad is the most laid back and easygoing guy anyone will ever meet. However, he is not afraid to play “dad” when it comes to the boyfriend department. I remember one time in high school, bringing a boyfriend home for dinner. My dad looked the kid straight in the eye and said, “how about we go outside with a baseball bat and play a game of you lose?” He was kidding of course, but that is one example of the kind of comedic sense I grew up with.

We all (I grew up with my two younger brothers) loved cracking jokes at my mother’s expense. I don’t know why, maybe because she is such an easy target. I remember when she lost a majority of her hearing while we were growing up. I think she basically had what I would call “selective hearing,” because sometimes I think she just tuned us out. But most of the time she couldn’t hear because of her disability.

My siblings and I would drive her crazy by mouthing words without sound and she would become frantic trying to figure out what we were saying. Then other times we would just yell things at her like, “Mom I’m going to the store!” Which she would either interpret as, “Mom, I’m a dirty whore!” or she would tell us to stop yelling at her.

My dad was the person my brothers and I would go to if we wanted our way. A night home with dad without mom meant unlimited hot dogs and macaroni and cheese! Score! A little batting of the eyelashes, followed by a very sweet, “daddy, please can I?” was usually followed by a solid, “yes”.

However, my mother had a habit of saying, “NO!” before the words were even out of our mouth. NO! soda. NO! chips. NO! sugar. Since my dad was diabetic, the whole family was diabetic. My mom put fructose in everything. And tofu. I grew up eating sweetened tofu. It’s no wonder I got to college and gained 40 pounds. My body went into shock. McDonalds? What? This stuff exists?

So anyway, I got carried away talking about the folks. UBERMOUTH you will be missed!