Does your mom really call you guys Aries and Sauron? I thought those were just user names. 
Wow…
My mom is absolutely nothing like this.
I can be gone all day, do whatever I want, and I don’t have to call. However, I’d call to let her know if I was going to stay out longer than I had thought…but she doesn’t worry.
When I go on trips, she only wants me to call when I arrive at my destination, or if something’s wrong. One month ago, I drove 16 hours from Salt Lake City to Tacoma WA, and I didn’t have to make one phone call until the trip was over.
My good buddy Val has a mother very much like this.
Once, back in high school, we had a Cold Day, which is like a Snow Day, but for extremely low temperatures. Our cars were working just fine and the roads were clear, so my sister Katie and Val and I were all going to go into the city to find a coffee house to hang out in for the afternoon.
Val’s mom put the kibosh on the plan, though.
Val: Hey, Katie and Q.N. and I are going downtown for coffee, okay?
Val’s Mom: NO! You can’t! You’ll crash!
Val: Huh? The roads are clear.
Val’s Mom: Yes, but snow blows across the interstate all the time. It creates ice patches. You’ll skid out and crash.
Val: No we won’t. Q.N.'s driving and she’s very careful.
Val’s Mom: It doesn’t matter! Those black ice patches are deadly! She won’t even see them! And you’ll go skidding out, and crash!
Val: I’m sure that’s not going to happen. We’ll go really slow, okay?
Val’s Mom: Even if you don’t skid out, some other car will, and they’ll crash into you!
Val: Mom, I haven’t heard anything about black ice patches on the radio. They say the roads are clear.
Val’s Mom: But they can’t see the black ice–that’s why! You’ll skid out and crash into a bunch of other cars, and there’ll be a huge pile up, and the cars will catch on fire, and you’ll burn up! And when the firemen come out to put out the fire, they’ll spray water all over the road, and that’ll make even more ice, and then even more cars will pile up, and it’ll cause a huge explosion! You can’t go into the city, or you’ll DIE!
Our going to get coffee turned into a disaster of the same magnitude as the big pile-up in Wisconsin last winter…all in her own mind.
That last post just reminded me of another adventure with P. and her mom:
We went on a road trip, and P. had told her mom that she would call her after we had dinner. But the woman got it mixed up and thought P. would call when we got to our bed and breakfast.
When we got back from dinner that night, I happened to call my mom (who wasn’t worried about a thing), and she said that P’s mom had been calling her frantically, calling the b&B, and speculating that we must have been wiped out and were lying somewhere on the side of the road, that we were in a place where we couldn’t call*, we were in the hospital or dead, etc.
P. called home, explained to her mom that she’d gotten things mixed up–and then apologized about ten times for this mess, which wasn’t even her fault.
I haven’t been on a trip with her since.
*We were in San Diego at the time. It’s not exactly a barren wasteland!
Well…I would tell you our REAL names but then I’d have to kill you…
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I’m married to this guy - DogDad is Beastor from SAF until he’s had his morning coffee. GREAT line. Note to self: spewing water all over the monitor & keyboard does NOTHING to improve the function of said components.
My mom is the same way. She actually got WORSE after I left for college. I was the only 21-year-old I knew who had a curfew - AND, it was 9pm!
But it is all balanced out by my dad, who doesn’t worry about anything. When we were kids he used to let us “help” him chop wood with a chainsaw, just to give you an example.
The best moment was the time I got arrested in college. Long story short, my dad told the Chief of Police of my college town not to be a jackass and to stop harassing 20-year-old women.
Meanwhile, by the time I got home from the station (no charges were filed) there were no fewer than 5 messages from my mother on my answering machine, detailing all the horrible things that could have happened to me while I was “in detention.”
My personal favorite: “They could have put you in a cell with a lesbian and you might have been raped!”
My mother is pretty calm except for one thing – she has a massive fear of airplane crashes. She will fly, but only with significant sedation, like 15mg of Valium and an hour of silent prayer immediately before takeoff. She will not fly if the sky is the slightest bit gray and if there are any mechanical delays, she will ask to be bumped to the next flight.
She hates it when my Mr. tlw and I and my sister fly. She’s totally freaked about one of us dying in an airplane related incident and demands calls right before we board - so she can start praying - and the moment we land - so she can continue praying in thanks for our safe arrival. This has been the case for more than 25 years.
Despite this fear of my mother’s, my sister took a job with a major airline. Fortunately, it was an on-land job.
So picture it, Tuesday, September 4, 2001. It’s the day after Labor Day. Late that afternoon, Mr. tlw and I get on a plane to Denver. The customary phone calls are made. When we arrive in Denver that evening, my mom is freaking out. After about ten minutes of listening to her incoherent weepy prattling, I finally figure out that my sister has received a promotion of sorts, into a job which will require her to be on approximately four flights each week. My mom is totally overwhelmed by this news. I spend several hours on the phone with her over the next week trying to make her feel that it’s safe for my sister to have this job, that airplane crashes are rare and that air travel is the safest mode of transportation.
Fast forward one week. Mr. tlw and I are at the airport in Denver awaiting our morning flight back to LaGuardia when all air transport is suddenly stopped. Yes, it’s September 11. My cell phone is dead. Every payphone was, of course, swarmed with people and the wait for a phone is a half-hour or more. After making it to the phone, I call my mother and she’s not home! She’s not at her workplace, she’s not at church, she’s no where to be found, and reaching my sister is impossible. Now I’m sitting in the Denver airport, not sure what to do, the place was a madhouse and I’m imagining my mother, she knows that we’re supposed to be flying that morning and of course, has no way of knowing if we’ve taken off and are in potential danger or if we’re safe somewhere and can’t get in touch with her.
By the time we finally speak, after Mr. tlw and I got smart, realized that we weren’t going to fly any time soon and got one of the few remaining hotel rooms near the airport, I was surprised that she hadn’t had a stroke.
It didn’t help matters when we told her that we didn’t have any plans to move, from our high-rise apartment building at the end of Manhattan, from which we used to have a fantastic view of the twin towers. She’s harped about that, every time we’ve spoken and every time she’s visited, since 9/11 happened, even though the chances of someone purposefully crashing into an apartment building at this point seem slim and none.
She was never quite so happy as when we announced that we were moving.
This is the funniest thing ever said in a thread about neurotic mothers. Was this intentional, avabeth? Come on, tell the truth!
Omigod, road trips–or even short trips–with mother. ::shudders:: She just didn’t settle for mere back-seat driving, though there was plenty of that too. “Slow down! SLOW DOWN! There’s a stop sign ahead!” Yeah, a solid half mile up an perfectly empty street and we were scorching right along at the posted 30 m.p.h.
No, she was so interactive she screamed. A lot, while jerking in panic. Talk about having your nerves shot to hell and back. I dunno, I guess she my sliding into the driver’s seat instantly rendered me legally blind and suicidal.
Mom: Omigod, STOP, STOP, STOP!
Me: ::locks up brakes, cars behind swerve, honk and give us the finger:: What?!
Mom: You didn’t see that car backing into you!
Me: ::grits teeth:: The damned car is a quarter mile ahead, he’s stopped and if you don’t cut out the hysteria I’m never driving you anywhere again, ever. We almost got rear-ended!
Mom: You don’t need to be so snippy.
The problem was, she wasn’t even consistent about it. Sometimes she could be relatively normal and mellow so she’d lull you into complacencecy, then hit you with the SHRIEK.
Of course this was the same woman who, when I was moving to a new city about 100 miles away, called the police on me. I was 28 at the time. (It’s not quite as drastic as Steve Wright’s experience, but close.) I told her–repeatedly–I would call her in a few days when I got the phone installed. At midnight that night the cops pounded on my door, sternly asking if I was all right. Yep. My dear mother called them, all frantic and just sure I was raped, strangled and dismembered–because I hadn’t called her yet. So of course I had to apolgize to the cops, who looked carefully stonefaced, then dress, trek out to find a payphone and call her. Then she was upset because I was out so late at night in a stranger city, and was the pay phone in a well lit area, were there other people around…?
Yeesh.
Gotta wonder what she expected the cops to do. Tape you back together? If you’re already dead, calling the cops can wait 'til the next day.
My mother would NEVER say a thing like, “I’d rather see your cold dead body on the pavement than to know you were tortured.” because saying it dramatically increases the odds that it will come true.
You can have quite a bit of fun with it if you have a twisted sense of humor.
Me: That lump under my chin is back.
Mom: (immediately worried) What?
Me: Don’t worry, I get them all the time. It’s just a swollen lymph node.
Mom: Well, you’d better have a doctor look at it!
Me: Why? You think it’s cancer?
Mom: Oh God, DON’T SAY THAT. Why would you say something like that?
Me: (Poking at my very pregnant belly) Man! This baby has 15 elbows.
Mom: Oh, God. Why would you SAY something like that?
Me: Gosh, I hope it’s not born with 15 elbows now.
Mom: STOP SAYING THAT!
Me: I’m just calling to say we’re leaving for vacation. Let’s hope the plane doesn’t lose an engine!
Mom: Oh God!!! Why would you SAY that?
You know, I should just say yes, it was intentional, but to be honest, I didn’t even notice it until you pointed it out…freudian slip, perhaps? 
Ava
Oh my gosh, I have another good one from just mere moments ago…
Background story: I had to give my house key to our new housekeeper so Sauron had a new key made for me. For some reason it wasn’t made properly and it won’t work in our front door so I have to go this weekend to have a new one made. In the meantime I just go in through our garage and into the house from there because since it is an interior door we leave it unlocked. Last night my mother picked up the tiniest minion of Sauron and I gave her the garage door opener so she could get into the house.
Phone conversation this morning:
Aries: Mom, don’t forget I need to get back my garage door opener from you before I get home tonight or I won’t have a way to get into the house.
Mom: Where’s your key?
Aries: Well, I had to give my original key to the housekeeper and I don’t have a new key made for myself yet.
Mom: The housekeeper has a KEY to your HOUSE?
Aries: Uhhh…yeah…how else would she get in to clean?
Mom: Have you checked out this person’s references? Doesn’t that make you feel creepy knowing someone has a key to your home?
Aries: Yes, mother. She works for a reputable service. It is fine. Tell you what, why don’t you just leave the garage door opener in the mailbox. That way you won’t have to try and catch me today and can go about your day.
Mom: What if someone sees me?
Aries: Sees you doing what?
Mom: Putting your opener in the mailbox…what if someone sees me and then gets it out and goes into the house and robs you or waits for you to get home?
Aries: Who in the devil is going to be posted to their windows watching my MAILBOX all day long? And what kind of thief would sit in my house all day long just wasting time until I could get home so they could kill me?
Mom: There is no need to get snippy…I just think it would be horrifying to come home tonight with the babies and someone be inside the house.
Aries: Okay Mom. I’ll be sure to check things out. Can you please just put the opener in the box?
Mom: What about the mail lady?
Aries: sigh What about her?
Mom: What if she comes to deliver the mail and takes it?
Aries: Tell you what Mom, don’t put any freaking stamps on the opener and I betcha the mail lady won’t take it out. Okey-dokey.
Mom: Okay, fine. You’ll listen to me one day.
~L~ Honestly, I don’t know WHY this happens to me. I think it happens when I am thinking about something, fairly concentrated on a task or something I need/want to do. I’m concentrating on what’s in my mind and I lose track of the outside world.
I have a mom story now! I’m sure I have a few, but I just remembered this one, while I was reading another poster’s story about driving with mom.
Driving with mom is a pain, but many of you may not realize the horror that is simply driving within mom’s presence.
When I was 17, she would frequently send me to the grocery store, so she didn’t have to go. She was standing in the driveway as I started to back out, talking to a neighbor. I was NOT out of our driveway, I had NOT put a single tire on the road.
As I am checking for traffic, pets and small children behind me, she beats furiously on the windshield from the front. (Yes, I was startled) I slammed on the brakes. She yells into the car “DON’T GO INTO THE DITCH!”
I look at her as if she’s lost her mind, because she apparently has…Ditch? I mouth.
“The DITCH! Across the street!”
I hd to think about this for quite some time. Ok Mom, you would rather scare the crap out of me, WHILE I am backing the car out of the driveway, possibly causing me to wreck the car…unintentionally accelerating or slamming on the brakes, to tell me not to run into a ditch that is a foot deep, and has existed since we moved in.
~sigh~