Monday I talked to my mom 4 separate times on the phone. And that doesn’t include the one time I called her and it went to voicemail so I just hung up knowing I’d call her back later. The most surprising part of this? It’s not abnormal at all.
True life: I am 30 years old and I talk to my mom multiple times a day. Generally in 4-minute increments. On my way to the subway. On my way from the subway to work. Walking to grab lunch. Waiting in line for lunch. Even waiting for an abnormally slow elevator. Sometimes it continues into my elevator trip, much to the chagrin of the other elevator passengers.
Last year, I read a piece in Vogue called “I’m an Adult Woman, and I Call My Mother Three Times a Day” and I was like OMG THIS IS ME. It’s so me that I link to it in my About Me page here on the blog. The only difference is that I don’t have kids… yet. I can’t imagine how many times I will call her, then.
I was scrolling through Instagram last night and I came across a buzzfeed video of “Things We Still Ask Our Moms,” which is pretty accurate because honestly, who knows when mascara expires, or how to wash something that says “dry clean only?” Mommy does, that’s who. However, half of the time I call my mom not to ask questions, but just to give her general updates on what EXACTLY I did on that specific day. I can’t bore my boyfriend with this tedium, and my friends definitely don’t give a sh*t, but my mom? SHE HAS TO LOVE ME. And she has to pretend to care.
Back to Monday when I called my mom incessantly. Did I mention it was my dad’s birthday? I talked to him once, too, but there were SO MANY THINGS I had to tell my mom. Examples of the things that just could not wait until the next day to tell her: I got a new book out from the library (Hungry Heart by Jennifer Weiner). I went to the grocery store (has she ever heard of this new flavor of SmartPop?). My boss was being a big B (not a rare occurrence). My spin class had 29 people despite great weather (also not surprising). I clocked so many steps on my Fitbit so I knew I would beat her for the week (I’m always over 10,000, nothing new there). More on my Fitbit obsession another time.
Sometimes I feel bad because I call my mom and it goes something like this:
Me: “Hi! What’s up?”
Mommy: “You know…”
Me: “Well you won’t believe what happened to me in the past 2 hours since the last time I’ve talked to you.”
Should I wait an extra 2 seconds for her to finish her thoughts before I launch into the full saga of events that happened to me between 9 am and 11 am? PROBABLY. But I just can’t help it, I have SO MUCH TO SAY.
Last week, my friend said at dinner, “I’m so stressed about moving, don’t judge me, but I have been calling my mom every day during lunch just to vent.” I answered with “GIRL!! I have talked to my mom every day since FOREVER!” Then I started to think about when it was exactly that I started calling my mom all the time. I think the answer is: as soon as I moved out of her house. Even in undergrad, when most people are specifically trying to get away from their parents, I remember my sophomore year apartment had bad cell reception so I had to step outside on the stairwell to call my mom. About what!? NOTHING. As usual. But it was enough of an emergency that I had to use my secret back door and stand on a deserted fire escape stairwell in the winter to tell her all of that nothing.
Last week I went to Canada, and when I finally called my mom after I touched down back in NYC, she said “I missed you SO MUCH!” Despite, of course, me emailing her 3 times during my 3-day trip, and calling her from the airport right before my plane took off. Some people will read this and say “wow, you must be best friends with your mom then, huh?” And to that I would tell them that my mom always was clear that she never wanted to be my friend, just my mom. In fact, we weren’t even Facebook friends until 4 years ago! We may not be “friends,” but we are really, really, really close.
I gotta go now, I haven’t called my mom yet to tell her what I had for lunch.