Today is my mother's birthday. Those of you who've read this blog for a while might remember that I don't really talk to my mother. (You - roll your eyes and leave to read something more cheerful. I - don't blame you in the least. God knows I'm a broken record on this topic.)
Explanatory story about my mother:
She and another lady were organizing a bridal shower for a young lady in their church. (Mind you, I grew up in this church. I'd known everyone attending this shower for about 20 years or so.) The girl in question was a friend of mine, and I had recently helped with a bridal shower for another friend, so I offered to help. They had no decorations, so I offered to bring some. They thought a vegetable tray was too expensive, so I did one. Mother had ordered cake squares, but was afraid she hadn't ordered enough, so she asked me to bring cake mix and icing, so I did. They asked me to bring Supergirl, who was about 6 months old, so I did. Mother spent almost the entire shower feeding her cake. I didn't even ask her to stop. I had to leave before the shower ended, so I gathered up my stuff and got ready to go. Mother came over to offer to help carry something. I handed her what I had in my hand at that time - my purse and the diaper bag. I picked up Supergirl in her carseat and started towards the door. (It briefly occurred to me that this was a good arrangement, as my mother is tall, but very thin and not very strong. Supergirl in her carseat was a little heavy and very awkward. I thought I was being considerate and taking the heavier load.) Mother looks around, makes sure she has an audience, and says loudly, "I see - she doesn't trust me with the baby!"