by Ali MacLeod
I’m sorry, Mom.
You’ve always been a good mother to me and my sisters. You did everything right. You showered us with love, but were never afraid to discipline us if we erred. With your help, you had every right to expect that we would grow into well-adjusted, wonderful daughters.
I really don’t know why I’m defective. But I know it’s not your fault. Maybe it was all the Sour Patch Kids I ate in high school?
Anyway, again, I apologize. You don’t deserve what’s coming. I tried to wait a couple weeks, in the hopes that it would make writing this article–and reading it, on your end–less painful, but I think I just prolonged the inevitable.
All right. Here goes.
A few weeks ago, I had the good fortune of visiting my mom, my younger sister, and some family friends in New York City. It was a grand old time. We got brunch, my sister tried on prom dresses, I petted a dog in Washington Square Park — fun for the whole family, truly. However, after one particularly long day, we returned to the hotel room, and my mom (once again, wonderful and long-suffering parent that she is) reminded me that I needed to do something for her. I assured her that I would. She pressed me, asking me to write it down on my phone because it was very important that I didn’t forget. I rolled my eyes, but obliged to assuage her worries, and soon enough, we were back out into the Big Apple. More brunch. Pigeons everywhere. You get the gist. Too soon afterwards, I had to depart back to Providence, and after a fabulous ride on a Megabus that smelled simultaneously of industrial cleaner and oatmeal, I ended up back at school at my usual workspace in Faunce (the armchair under the pool room TV. Don’t steal it, I’m very possessive.). Ready to churn out some baller reading outlines, I opened Reminders on my handy-dandy iPhone, and looked at the first item on the list. My blood turned cold. I sniffed aggressively. I felt an acute pain somewhere around my ovaries.
It was the reminder I had made when my mom had asked me to do her a favor. And this is what I had written down.
Let’s take a moment to recognize what a piece of shit I am.
No, longer. You haven’t contemplated the true extent of my worthlessness.
I made a reminder in my phone and couldn’t even be bothered to write down WHAT IT WAS THAT I NEEDED TO BE REMINDED OF.
I expended the energy to both create the reminder and type out a full ten characters’ description, without giving myself any actual indication as to what I was supposed to be doing.
Let it also sink in that I even bothered to put a specific time down that I had to complete this task by.
All of that I could put effort into.
But actually reminding myself? That’s too much.
So I was effectively screwed. I had absolutely no recollection of what this task was. I had no good options.
I could totally drop the ball on this very important assignment and deal with whatever horrific repercussions were in store. For all I knew, my job was to go to Russia and make peace between our two nations to avoid a nuclear winter. (Actually, that’s not true. I knew it wasn’t this. I called the Russian Embassy to verify.)
Or, I could change my name, move to Vermont, and become an artisan cheese-maker. Sure, my family would miss me, but it would be better than having a disappointment for a daughter.
The third option was the worst of all. I could call my mom, eat some humble pie, and admit that I did exactly what she said I would do. Then, I’d have to politely ask her to remind me, and endure the inevitable “I told you so.”
Clearly, none of these were doable.
I spent a whole day and a half in turmoil, wracking my brain for any suggestion of what I should do. I expressed my grief to countless friends, including all the Rib writers at our weekly meeting, but came up with no solution. I had only an hour left before the deadline I had put in my phone, so it was becoming obvious — I would have to choose a plan of action.
And then:
Thank God for moms, am I right?
(Is it bad that I’m still a little offended she didn’t trust me enough to remember myself? Actually, you know what, forget I said that.)
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