Mama Bear

Well, mother’s day is coming up. Oh shucks, I missed April Fools, it’s not for a while, but you can’t get an early start to plan for the perfect day. This post is dedicated to all the mothers out there. You work hard and receive little gratitude, so thank you for all you do.

Now the rest of this post I will be bashing my host mom, because she is exactly what gives all you good mothers out there a bad name. I was inspired to write this after the looks of my chicken scratches in my journal that I’ve been keeping and I felt it was worth sharing…use your imagination and follow along because some things might… ‘ring true, shine like crystal, be so transparent you’d be looking at a ghost, sometimes I think she looks like a skeleton or maybe Don Quixote de la Mancha re-incarnated with her hollowed jaw bone structure and ghostly shocked eyes when she asks me questions or says “que horror!”

Okay, let’s talk about her style. She wears these furry satin (?) jump suits (so far baby blue and maybe brown). I guess I don’t know the material but its as if she wants to go on a run or be the next ‘shorty…’ yet she always has a Guinness or white t-shirt hanging out the back end- screaming white trash and check out my grandma butt. Did I forget to mention she’s nearing her mid 60’s. Her fingers aren’t about to fall off but they don’t look like they’ve been pruning in the fountain of youth either. She wears this putrid pink nail polish that matches her complexion. I’m surprised I haven’t snagged a wiff of the special collection elderly perfume at colognes unlimited.

As they say in spanish-pobrecito-I don’t know how he puts up with her. It’s not that she orders him around because he needs her as a dependent- she’s just a *** nagging *** to put it eloquently. Pardon my French (I stopped taking the class), you may insert whatever your level of swearablity fits your lexicon. She has defined her role to keep order in the house- ex making my bed everyday, cooking the meals, keeping the place spiffy…good for her. In the process, she goes commando on the inhabitants…role call! Where have you been?! Enh? Enh? Maybe she was born in the wrong century and fit in better with the apes that just made sounds and mumbles instead of forming real words and questions.

What a mistake it was for me to ask pardon for going on my excursion with Alejandro to the motocross. She asked me where I was and so I told her. She was flabbergasted and forbade me to see him or other strangers, heaven forbid that there are actually genuinely friendly people in this world…not guilty by association I assume. And at this moment, she thought she owned my soul, her precious prisoner giving in to her will, never to escape those extra tight sheets that plastered my bed every night like the starch white rigid ones you’d see in a mental hospital. Authority reigns: order. Chaos and the Cosmos.’

If you were offended or distraught by any of the comments listed above please contact the IBHMI or the International Bureau of Hurt Mothers Incorporated. Secondly, to put our hearts content and our minds at ease, my mom doesn’t own a computer nor does she know much about the internet… and even if she did, she wouldn’t be able to understand a word of English and I would gladly tell her this, but I’d be lost in translation.

The other night I came home at 9:30 after hanging out and getting tapas with Francisco, a student from SEK (the same university I attend)/Ted’s tandem partner/he’s from Ecuador so he can identify with ‘close segovians,’ really good guy. Anyway she asked me if I was at school, if only I were brilliant enough to know that this was a trap…as the words “si” left the tip of my tongue- she counteracted with, “oh, I didn’t know that the school was open this late” as if this was some wild chess game and she put me in check, once again. I’m a communication major so I understood her tricky rhetoric as if she were a sneaky lawyer…now that she thought she had me in one lie, she riddled off rhetorical questions as if I had been hanging around strangers…alright, if that’s how you wanted to play. After trying to get a word in here or there I finally said, “Puedo hablar!” She smiled in demise. I was completely truthful with my locations and times and that Fransico is a student…I really wanted to put her on the spot so I said, “Puedo tener amigos?” She continued on about strangers and I told her she didn’t understand. Then it ended with, “yeah, I never know where you are…I don’t know”

If 5 people respond in the comments section I will post a picture of her, unless you’d rather trust your imagination…