Worry, Shmorry

I am going to become a Jewish Mother. Yes, the stereotypical kind. It would relieve me of pretending I don't feel the way I do most of the time. JM's get away with everything; complaining, kvetching, (oops maybe complaining and kvetching are the same thing,) punctuating every instance with melting drama, bossing, worrying, and backseat driving, to name a few.

"Why don't you call your mother?" I'd say just looking at a picture of my children. I'd drop obvious hints about any little concern I might have over their relationships. I could get away with demanding every holiday, birthday or special occasion be at my house. Like the wave of a wand, guilty pleasures would be turned into pleasure guilt, with a mere roll of my eyes.

Health conscientiousness would be a specialty. Chicken soup is just the first course, when you've got the bigger family issues of closet smoking, sleep deprivation, sleep desperation, and all the other unmentionable overindulgences. I'd lovingly spoon the most intuitive JM remedies, sweetened with a select dose of advice, right down their throats. "You'll thank me later," I'd say.

Carrying on like Mrs. Castanza over an argument with my spouse even once, would be unbelievably transcendent. GPS? Put me in the car and throw out that pitiful map quest print-out, and insanely stubborn errant sense of direction. I wouldn't be bullied by those threats of directional finger amputation. Ha!

Here's a good JM joke...Know why it took Moses 40 years to get the Israelites out of the desert? Because he wouldn't ask for directions!

JM's don't get scolded for bragging about their children, mentioning how much (or how little) money someone makes, or comparing themselves better than the "Jones's." It's expected. You can rely on the fact that a JM will fight like a mother bear over threatend cubs if someone belittles her darlings.

Fortunately becoming a Jewish Mother doesn't entail the same "a-hem" circumspect torture it would to become a Jewish father. Oy vey! But I refuse to gain any more weight, grow chin stubble, or let my dye job go any brighter red. I do like the JAP idea, but then I digress into another stereotype. I'd really just settle for being- Drama Queen for a Day. Win all it's consolation prizes, wrap myself in the luxury of demanding and directing everyone's life, and then eat a brisket with all the carb-filled trimmings! Diamond earrings thrown in would be good too.


Melissavina said...

Wowie, I'd say you've been on your way toward this goal for many a year, Mother Dearest.

And yes, if someone belittles your little darlings I would appreciate ferocious bear-like responses. :)

Good one!

Melissavina said...

How come you're not approving any of my comments?! Are you ashamed of me or something?

brookem said...

just stopped over here from melissa's blog. looking forward to reading more of you!

Mother M said...

Approved! Thank you- I need help.

Inarticulate Fumblings said...

Mother M!!! Good to see you on here! It has been a long time!