Of course she does - that is part of the job description.
I was in freaking college, and my mother was warning me to look both ways before crossing the street. To this day, if we are walking together, and approach a curb, she grabs my arm to stop me from flinging myself under the wheels of the nearest bus.
My dear mother-in-law calls us before and after every trip we take to be sure that we aren’t dead along the highway.
All mothers are nuts. They can’t help it.
Regards,
Shodan
OMG - I thought my mom was the only one who did THAT - I’m 28 years old and when I was in the passenger seat of her minivan a couple of months ago, she had to stop suddenly, and threw her arm out across me in the passenger seat. When I stopped laughing, I said “Yeah. Cause that’ll work.”.
I think it’s a total reflex for her, but I cracked up.
Lezlers, I just don’t know how ANYONE can hate 'maters! Sauron must be joking. I saw that thread and hid under my bed for two days at the fact that ANYONE could hate tomatoes. They are the nectar of the gods.
Ava
Well, to attempt to tie the tomato-hating hijack back into the intent of the OP:
My mother-in-law (Aries28’s mom, for those of you keeping score at home) will throw me a curve when it comes to tomatoes. We eat with my in-laws occasionally, and oftentimes my mother-in-law will fix a salad with the meal. Sometimes she fixes a small salad just for me, without tomatoes. (I assure you, my hatred of the vile hellspawn fruitable is deep, sincere, abiding and all-consuming.) Other times, she fixes one big salad from which everyone serves themselves. However, she will slice tomatoes and pile them on top of the salad so that in order to get to the lettuce, cucumbers, onions, etc. I have to remove a layer of tomatoes. Not to mention all the tomato glop that oozes downward and contaminates the rest of the ingredients.
The weird thing is, it’s not like she forgets I hate the buggers. She’ll place this abomination of a salad in the middle of the table, look directly at me, and say, “I know you hate tomatoes. Hahahaha!”
I think there’s some son-in-law love-hate dichotomy going on there.
Sauron, some advice (why am I giving advice to the man who knew enough to make The One Ring? Stupid little hobbit): find a food she can’t stand (make one up, if possible) and puree it into her dish. “I know you hate bulgarian muskrat steeped in olive oil! Hahahahaha!”
I like the cut of your jib, iampunha.
Have you ever considered piracy? You’d make a wonderful Dread Pirate Roberts.
I’m 27 and MY mom still does this too…
Crazy mothers.
Sam
I must be the only person who has a mother that runs the opposite extreme. Back when I was 12, I was cutting up some broccoli and managed to slice open my finger/hand pretty good. Well, I put my hand in the sink and was running some water over it, and the blood was just getting everywhere. It was running down the cutting board and over the counter (I hadn’t realized I sliced my hand open until I saw the river of blood), there was a trail leading over to the sink, plus the blood in the sink itself.
So I say, rather calmly, “Mom, I just sliced myself really bad with the knife, I think I need to go the hospital.” My mother walks over, looks at it, says, “Yeah, I think you’re right,” shuts off the water and grabs a bunch of towels, tells me to put pressure on it. Undoubtedly, the correct move. But then she turns around and goes and gets the mail! And then sorts it and opens some letters!
After she finishes that, she looks at me and asks, "OK, are you ready to go?’
What the hell? I asked her about it later and she said, “Well, you were still making noise so I knew it wasn’t really serious.” Bah.
Of course, this was the woman that used to watch in amusement when I threw tantrums as a toddler. Apparently I used to slam my head against the ground as part of the routine, which amused my mother to no end. She said she figured I’d just knock myself cold before I seriously injured myself that way, so she didn’t bother stopping me.
When I started my current job (I was 31 years old at the time) my mother told me to wear a nice pair of pants, and a shirt and tie on my first day.
I told her I was considering wearing a loincloth instead of pants.
She got the message.
She’s a worrier, but not as frantic as her mother, who would worry about somthing that wasn’t even happening. She wouldn’t ask if it was happening, because it might actually be happening, and that would really upset her.
So she worried about whether it was happening or not.
I feel so much better knowing that it’s not just my mother.
Oh, Goddess, do I feel better.
My baby sister calls her “Queen Paranoia.” I’ve just stopped telling her when I go into LA to go to the Roxy.
She insists that I need to go out and make “real friends, and not just Those People you meet on the Internet.” (Like I haven’t met a bunch of Those People IRL anyway.)
And remember, if you ever are kidnapped and brutally killed make sure you have on CLEAN UNDERWARE!!!
Is that like Tupperware?
My father only became like that after my first born. I’ll never forget the time he didn’t want me to take her to the grocery store cause something could fall on her. When he saw that I was still going to go to the grocery store he wanted me to promise to walk down the center of the isles.
Okay, I have to add an anecdote from this past week -
I’m moving to Reno. My mother is not happy about this move, but whatever.
So, I say to her, “I’m not going to pack up my bread pans & bread book, because I’d like to have them at my cousin’s.” (where I’m moving)
Mom: “You’re supposed to be looking for a job.”
Me: silence, as I boggle at this statement
I should have just fired off with what came to my mind - “What the fuck am I supposed to do after 6 p.m.?”
Wow. I’d be like:
"Yeah, I know what you mean Mom. And they grab people into vans al the time around here. As amatter of fact, did you see on the news where not only did they take the girl, rape, torture, an kill her, but they took her Cell Phone, took down the number of the last incoming call and Did It To That Person Too!!!
Ya, its really something scary, ma. So if I’m out a while and you don’t hear from me, promise me you’ll Lock Your Door…"
Muuuuuuhahahah!!! >:)
I hate tomatos, too (I guess I missed that thread). I worked in a tomato field as a young teen, and the fact that so many great-looking tomatos turned out to be putrid and rotten underneath (which you find out when you grab it with your hand) sort of turned me off to them (I like sauce, but whole tomatos and slices are bad).
What? You’ve never been to an Underware party? 
Reading this thread makes me grateful all over again that my mom is not the worrier type. I’ve never heard her say anything like the stuff I’ve been reading here.
My friend P’s mom, on the other hand…Oh, dear. No wonder P. is so messed up now, after years of hearing stuff like this:
“Put blocks of wood in the window sills at night so people can’t break in.”
“Put a golf club up against the door so people can’t break in.”
“Don’t ever use an ATM. Don’t you know what could happen to you? Someone could sneak up behind you and…”
“If you go out anywhere at all, make sure you have a guy with you.”
“When you’re in a hotel, get a room on a low floor in case there’s a fire.”
“Don’t leave the ceiling fan on while you’re gone; it could cause a fire.”
Etc.
Lemme case, this would be the same woman who would say:
“Never get a room close to the ground because some pervert will break in.”
You can’t win. You can’t.
Yep. Just one more thing waiting to burn your house down.
My mother worries, but generally keeps these types of comments to herself. She knows about the backlash she’d get from me, while I made up horror stories to self-fulfill her prophecies.
The one bit of useless advice she ever gave me, “Never set your drink down in a bar or at a party. Someone might spike it.” (Actually that’s not bad or unreasonable advice at all. And she did say this just before I left for college.)
When I graduated from college, I came home and said, “Remember how you told me to never put my drink down?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, darn it, after four years of leaving my drinks laying around, I never did get so lucky and have someone spike it.” She faked shock… then we laughed.
And she probably silently thanked her lucky stars that I actually lived through college.
::sneaks up behind Jaade::
OHSORRYDIDTHISPOSTSCAREYOU?
No really, I’m sure it’s annoying from both sides. I think it mostly annoys me because of her general attitude towards my lifestyle and choices and such, so I take it personally. But still, it annoys the crap out of me. Even after I stopped making all reasonable effort to not scare her and decided I didn’t care (so that I wouldn’t be annoyed at the wasted effort), I still found it annoying. For a while, I took to carrying my laptop with me wherever I went in the house and leaving music on so she would hear me coming, but even that didn’t work because the speakers are crap, and I started being afraid I would be counter-startled by her startle and drop the 'puter.
Gah. Now I’m worrying about things.
You know, I find it kind of odd that my mom isn’t overly concerned about fire, because her house burned down when she was a little girl, and they lost everything. Oh wait–it’s coming back to me now. I remember when I was younger I had a clock with extremely bright numbers, and I have a hard time sleeping with any light in the room, so I used to throw a handkerchief over it at night. She got all bent out of shape, saying it was going to start a fire or something. Mom, I hate to tell you this, but the clock doesn’t even get warm!
She also got bent out of shape about incense, even though I was using it in an incense burner, and incense doesn’t really “burn” so much as smolders. When she yelled at me for not putting it out before going to the kitchen, getting something to eat, and coming back upstairs, I finally pointed out that the “burning” was really just a tiny spark, and that all the not-warm ashes were falling into the metal burner, so it was not going to burn the house down in the time it took me to make a sandwich.