Nic Narrates

Last week, my dear sweet mother manipulated me.

She began her behest innocuously enough with a whisper into the phone: “Shhhh…don’t tell your father,” she said as I heard her hastily scamper into another room in the background and shut the door. “I have money I want you to take to your brothers when you see them and I don’t want him knowing because it’s just for you kids.“

“Seriously?” I asked her. “You realize they’re grown ups now, right?”

“Oh, I have money for you too.”

“Mom, I’m not joking. You need to stop- we’ve talked about this before,” I tried for what had to be the bazillionth time, knowing full well it was useless.

“Shut up, you’re taking the money and that’s all there is to it. I have Girl Scout cookies for you too.”

“Well fuck, when you put it that way….”

Hate me if you must; I couldn’t say no. There were peanut butter patties. And thin mints. And, yes, even samoas.

So, just like that, I became my mother’s mule. I carried $50 and three boxes of Girl Scout cookies for each brother from my parent’s home in WI to my own, then to Midway, and finally to South Carolina. Was I proud of it? No, not really. I hate taking money from my mom, but she’s the type who refuses to allow you to say no. She will shove it in your pocket and do so in the most embarrassing way in public until you take it just to get her to stop. Or, she’ll be sneaky about it and hide her stash in a purse pocket you didn’t even know you had only to find it two weeks later and resort to shaking your fist at the sky and shouting “Curses! Foiled again!”

The thing is, even though my brothers and I are grown up, in my mother’s eyes, we’re still her kids and she wants to give us money so we can “go get a coffee with a friend” or “go see a movie” or “treat ourselves to something nice for Easter.” It’s thoughtful of her and everything, but it also isn’t necessary and is often really uncomfortable because my parents aren’t in a position to be concerned about giving us $20 here or $50 there. Plus, it’s awkward because she always sneaks it to us without my dad knowing. At this point in my life though, I’ve realized that my mom is sure to ferret money away until the day she dies because she wants her kids to have a little something from her if she can give it. True story.

After my conversation and after she’d made the exchange, I sat contemplating my plight while absently watching the TSA German Shepherd at the airport. I’d have loved to have made friends with him but remembered I was carrying SIX BOXES of cookies and wouldn’t it be a little odd if he smelled them and security was all like “Dude, what’s up with all the cookies, yo?” After considering the consequences, I opted to reach into my bag and surreptitiously eat  a peanut butter patti instead. Less evidence.

As I nibbled one, then inhaled another and another until a whole row of cookies disappeared, I let myself off the hook. So what if my mother tricked me into doing her bidding? So what if I’m a 30 year old GROWN ASS woman who just accepted $65 and three boxes of cookies from my mom? So what if I’m enabling her ridiculousness in giving money to my brothers as well? So. What.

Sometimes you just have to suck it up and bite the proverbial cookie. You have to listen to your mom, do what she says, be a good daughter. Even if it means you become her secret allowance mule. Even if it involves payment in Girl Scout cookies.

Filed under: educating the masses, family, family matters, imma badass but only in my mind, in transit, mothering, things people say by Nic