My mother is hilarious. She is a sweet, loving, deeply religious woman who has a spicy side. The other day I was talking to her and she asked me, “Don’t you have a big closet honey?” I said, “Well, it is a good size, why Mom?”. She went on to say that perhaps my husband and I could sneak into the closet for a little “fun” during the work day.
There’s a reason my Mom was pregnant seven times in nine years. And even though she lived through a tough, 36 year marriage, she firmly believes that a little nookie is the key to keeping things content and flowing smoothly in a marriage. “Love is a decision,” she tells me regularly. I’ve been married now for five years and she shows an increasing level of concern for how well I take care of my husband. She regularly reminds me that my son will grow up and my husband will still be there.
Just after midnight on Saturday morning my Mom had a health scare and landed in the ER. I received a text from my aunt and immediately called her. Luckily the ER nurse was able to let me speak to her. She sounded okay, she reassured me as she usually does when she is ill, and she closed with a line that confirmed that her snappy spirit is still in tact. She said, “I’m okay honey. Now, where is John? Why don’t you go wake him up and play.”