I’m Getting on a Plane!

by Marinka on July 22, 2009

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.

One year ago ...

If you enjoyed this post, please consider leaving a comment or subscribing to the RSS feed.

Leave a Comment

Previous post:

Next post: