Sometimes, I think that I need a little reminder of my current surroundings. In my own NYC apartment, when getting dressed and undressed, I can take off articles of clothing as I please, spending as much time as I'd like in different stages of undressing. (My favorite stage--you guessed it--being naked of course).
Here at home in New Jersey, where privacy is limited, this is not always the case. Earlier this afternoon, I was obliviously changing my clothes in my room, with my door wide open. (Forgetting that my mom was upstairs, whoops). She walked by my door, just as I had no pants or undies on--Yep, I accidentally flashed my vag to my mom. (An aside: When telling this story to Amelia, her response was, "Whatever, she birthed that shit."). Good point, Meelz. However, it has been quite some time since I was birthed, and I probably could have closed my door. Upon seeing my pant and underwearless body, my mom laughed, rolled her eyes at me and went downstairs.
I sort of like when the opportunity arises for my mom to roll her eyes at me, after all she should get to return the favor once in a while. Eye rolling at your parents should probably stop somewhere around the age of thirteen. However, this is something that I still do on the occasional basis.
Earlier this afternoon, while shopping at the mall, Little Mimi insisted on accompanying me into the mall bathroom. (Major eye roll). What am I, nine? I told my mom that I am twenty-six years old, responsible for the well-being and safety of children, and more than capable of using the restroom by myself. While she did not accompany me into the actual stall (I'm only joking--but would not put this past her) she continued to say "You just never know who could be lurking in a mall bathroom." What else can I say? She is a Jewish mother. Being worried, paranoid and neurotic is an actual part of the job description.
This experience reminded me of something similar that happened to me a few years ago--but on a bit of a larger scale. After college, I lived at home, with my parents for about ten months. In that time, I learned a great deal about what it was like to live with your parents, when you are supposed to be "on your own." (A truly humbling experience). My older brother had moved out, and my younger sister had just started college that fall, so it was just me, Little Mimi and Craig David, all the time. My parents attention focused on me, their then twenty-two year old daughter. Overall, it was a truly lovely (and free) stay at 3 Longacre Drive. But there were a few snags along the way...below you will find one...
One night, I realized that I had left my car on the street, so I went out to pull it into the driveway. I shouted to my mom, that I would be outside pulling my car into the driveway. When I got into my car, my favorite song (at the time) was on the radio. (No doubt that it was some pop hit of 2006). What better way to enjoy this song, then to drive around the block, listening to it for a few minutes. And that is exactly what I did. I was gone for a total of six minutes. The song had finished, just as I was I pulling up to my house. As I pulled into my driveway, I was able to survey the scene. I found my dad outside on the front lawn with a baseball bat, and my mom-- was on the phone with the police. REALLY!?!? I had not even been gone ten minutes, and the police had been called, alerted of my absence. And, god only knows what my dad was planning on doing with his baseball bat. As you can imagine, I moved out shortly after this incident. But not without a giant eye roll at both of my parents, first.
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