For Mother's Day, I generously offered to take my mother with me when I went to see comedian Chris Hardwick. I had made my ticket purchase back in November when I found out that he would be in Milwaukee because I want to make him mine. I thought, I will be a big girl, I'll venture into the city-yes, I know, it's Milwaukee, but anything bigger than 1000 people is a city to me-and I'll have a nice little weekend to myself. Skip to a few months later when I realize that's Mother's Day weekend and I have nothing to give Connie. So, after much consideration, I picked up the phone, called the Condog and asked if she'd want to go. She answered with an enthusiastic, "Yeah, sure, I can go." Because, you know, she had to make sure that I knew she was giving up a weekend full of plans of falling asleep in her recliner, watching Law and Order: Criminal Intent, and texting my brother who lives in North Carolina with weather updates for the East Coast.
We decided that she would drive to my place on Friday and I would drive her car to Milwaukee since it would be during the day and there would be traffic and Connie considers Cedar Rapids a white knuckle driving experience. My brain also does this thing where it conveniently forgets that my mother is just a smidge anal retentive. So, she had mapped out seven different ways for us to drive to Milwaukee, discussed each route with at least two of her coworkers or family members, researched the weather for the weekend and any construction delays we may come in contact with. I, on the other hand, wasn't even sure which way to drive out of my driveway. Normally, I would have plugged my GPS in from the beginning and followed whatever it said.
Now, while running the risk of sounding like I'm patting myself on the back, I am a GREAT navigator. When you grow up with someone who is a little high strung, you learn how to be seven steps ahead so that you can soothe any fears before they come. Had I been navigating to Milwaukee, I would have been aware of how long we were going to be on a certain road, which exits we were looking for, any potential turns, and, thanks to someone's constant nagging, I also would have always known the position of other cars on the roadway. My mother is a little out of practice with navigating. Not to mention, she is very much a product of her generation and she had printed out two different versions of maps from Mapquest, it took her fifteen minutes (NO EXAGGERATION) to program the GPS with the hotel's address, and she repeatedly said to me, "You know, I meant to buy an Atlas. I just like to have one around." "Connie!" I would exasperatedly reply, "You have an Atlas on your phone!" "I know," she'd replied, just as exasperated, "I can't figure out how to use it." After twenty-eight years of living with my mom, I should know by now to let that slide. Instead, I go, "You're a computer programmer! You work with technology every day!" "Well, that doesn't mean anything!" she screeches. End scene.
Connie is a genius-true, she's the only one in our family without a master's degree-and she can figure out how to code a computer, but watching her try to program the GPS was like watching a monkey with a wind up toy. She kept inspecting it and it would make noise and startle her when she least expected it. Those were the most peaceful fifteen minutes of the road trip. After that, I had to pull out my earphones so I could listen to my podcasts and drive in semi-peace. There was a slight hiccup when I explained to Connie that my earphones cancelled out a lot of noise, so she needed to get my attention if the GPS was making any announcements. She wanted to tell me a story, so I pulled out one side of the earphones and she continued to yell the story while I told her, repeatedly, she didn't need to yell because I had a free ear. It's moments like those that I think, "I'm putting her in a home." I just worry that in the next few years, the world's going to become a bit too much for her to handle and I'll either have to pack her up to live with my brother or put her in a home where she can pretend it's still 1980. There was another slight hiccup when Connie forgot to warn me that my exit was coming up and I was not only in the wrong lane, but past the exit before she realized that's where we needed to go.
But, we survived. We made it to Milwaukee. We had a great time at the comedy show and then shopping and exploring the next day. I really enjoy being an adult and having this relationship with my mom. Yes, she's the reason I'm in therapy and will be for years to come, but she and I also have a LOT of fun together. I never laugh as hard as I do when I'm with my family. I love to just film my mom when she's unaware and then play it back for her so she gets just a taste of what it's like watching her on this side. Did we have to get up at the buttcrack of dawn so we could be on the road at 7:00 am because Connie was convinced there would be bad weather and she wanted to be home before it hit? Yes. Did I make her drive home so I could sleep? Yes. Did I have to use the paper maps that she printed off? No, no I did not. I let the GPS lead, I let my mom drive, and I drifted reveling in my weekend. I gave Connie a pretty good Mother's Day gift. I gave her more stories to share and memories to relive. That's better than some darn flowers.
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