I'm Getting on a Plane!
Mama babysits my kids sometimes and last Monday, as she was leaving, she said, "I feel like I'm forgetting something." We went through the cell phone-charger-wallet checklist and she seemed to have it all.
After she left, I walked into my room and saw a Calvin Klein sports bra that wasn't mine. Mama left her sports bra! This was huge news because if someone leaves their cell phone behind, that's normal, but if a 60something woman leaves her bra, sports or otherwise behind, it's time to seek medical assistance.
I didn't want to embarrass her, so I thought I'd wait for her to call me and reclaim it, but the poor thing never did.
By next morning, I couldn't wait any longer. So after tweeting this development to my closest 700 Twitterfriends,
I called mama on the cell phone that she did not leave behind.
Papa picked up.
"Hi, papa, everything's fine," I said. We always say this to put each other at ease . Even if it's a big fat lie. "But I think mama left her bra behind," I told him.
"What about her vibrator?" he asked.
Yes, really. This is how papa talks to me. And to people in general.
Then mama got on the phone. "I didn't leave the bra at your apartment. I don't take off bra near children." She sounded mildly defensive.
I was about to relaunch the attack, focusing on Husbandrinka and his execrizing whore, and as I picked up the suspect bra, I realized that it was a pair of my underwear.
I'm not sure why my underwear was on top of my dresser, except it was resting on top of a pile of clothes that I'd set aside to take to Chicago for the weekend. A more alarming question is why my underwear looks like a bra and why at the ripe age of 42 I can't tell undergarments apart, but this isn't one of those educational blogs where I spoon feed you all the answers.
Except now that mama had me on the phone, she wanted to talk business.
"You staying at hotel with strangers," she reminded me about this weekend when I attend a three day blogging conference in Chicago. "If you under influence, you can make bad decision."
Seriously, mama?
"I worry," she presses on. "You in strange city with strange men."
"It's mostly women at the conference," I tell her, so she can adjust her worries to marriage-destroying lesbianism.
Because for mothers, the worrying never stops.
And I'm traveling to Chicago to be surrounded by it. I hope that there is no bra-underwear test.
After she left, I walked into my room and saw a Calvin Klein sports bra that wasn't mine. Mama left her sports bra! This was huge news because if someone leaves their cell phone behind, that's normal, but if a 60something woman leaves her bra, sports or otherwise behind, it's time to seek medical assistance.
I didn't want to embarrass her, so I thought I'd wait for her to call me and reclaim it, but the poor thing never did.
By next morning, I couldn't wait any longer. So after tweeting this development to my closest 700 Twitterfriends,
I called mama on the cell phone that she did not leave behind.
Papa picked up.
"Hi, papa, everything's fine," I said. We always say this to put each other at ease . Even if it's a big fat lie. "But I think mama left her bra behind," I told him.
"What about her vibrator?" he asked.
Yes, really. This is how papa talks to me. And to people in general.
Then mama got on the phone. "I didn't leave the bra at your apartment. I don't take off bra near children." She sounded mildly defensive.
I was about to relaunch the attack, focusing on Husbandrinka and his execrizing whore, and as I picked up the suspect bra, I realized that it was a pair of my underwear.
I'm not sure why my underwear was on top of my dresser, except it was resting on top of a pile of clothes that I'd set aside to take to Chicago for the weekend. A more alarming question is why my underwear looks like a bra and why at the ripe age of 42 I can't tell undergarments apart, but this isn't one of those educational blogs where I spoon feed you all the answers.
Except now that mama had me on the phone, she wanted to talk business.
"You staying at hotel with strangers," she reminded me about this weekend when I attend a three day blogging conference in Chicago. "If you under influence, you can make bad decision."
Seriously, mama?
"I worry," she presses on. "You in strange city with strange men."
"It's mostly women at the conference," I tell her, so she can adjust her worries to marriage-destroying lesbianism.
Because for mothers, the worrying never stops.
And I'm traveling to Chicago to be surrounded by it. I hope that there is no bra-underwear test.
posted by Marinka at
12:01 AM
16 Comments:
"Except now that mama had me on the phone, she wanted to talk business."
This sentence made me pale in fear. Next time my mom calls, she'll want to talk business, too.
Good job for taking the front lines and blogging all about it. Although I suspect you called her just so you could have a Funny Incident post up before you left for BlogHer. Not that you would do anything like that.
Have a safe trip!
High-larious!!
You mistook your own panties for a sports bra.
Papa asked about a vibrator. (I'd like you to revisit this in another post.)
Like I said long ago, you guys need a tv how.
I will see you in Chicago and hopefully all of your underclothes will be in the right place.
Thank goodness you didn't tweet about the vibrator!
I would have made the same error: sports bra...panties.
But my mom would never wear a sports bra. Your mom must be uber-cool.
Have fun in Chicago. And please have plenty of stories for us!
Love it. Love Mama and Papa. Hilarious! Have fun in Chicago!
Yeah. You would totally blow at that test.
So it's just strange MEN? she's not concerned about you being in a strange city with strange WOMEN?
I've heard of under garment discriminating fan clubs of Marinka. I thought it was fictious......
At least you realized it before you put your panties on as a bra. That would have been awkward.
sorry about the underwear confusion. hope you packed the right undergarments for chicago. am a bit freaked out by your father's comment. elaborate, please?
My dad totally sucks. Can I borrow yours because he absolutely rocks!!!!!
i hope to god that you're not the one who buys your son's underwear.
And this is why you should wear a thong. You would never have mistaken thong underwear for a sports bra unless your boobs were about the size of mosquito bites.
Are they?
Can you post a picture of the offending underwear?
love it ..thanks for the laughing
Can I have Papa? Because the only time either of my parents ever mentioned sex toys to me was when my mother asked me, completely seriously, "Do you have a vibrator? I have a headache and need something to loosen my shoulders with."
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