Over the weekend I received this voicemail from my mother:

“Hey, it’s your mom. I was reading your blog, and…did you really dress up as a slutty skunk for Halloween?!?”

Um, no Mom, you totally misread that.

I felt the need to clarify, because a reader also left a comment on that post implying she too thought I would wear such a thing. So, for the record, I would never, ever wear a Skanky Skunk costume. If I were going to dress up in something slutty, it’d be better than that. Come on, y’all.

Anyhoo, my mom and I have been playing phone tag for days. To tide myself over until I chat with her, a couple of my favorite mom stories…

When I was five, my mom and I were heading out of the house to go somewhere, and she forgot something and went back inside. While standing on the front porch waiting, I started poking my toe at a long, dead blade of grass on the ground, which promptly moved. I leaned down, and saw it was actually a brown baby snake, which excited me (God only knows why, because I’d be terrified now, but when you’re little I guess you assume anything that’s a baby is good). When my mom returned, I pointed out my new friend. My mother totally lost her shit (sorry mom, but it is an accurate description. FYI – my mom recently told me she doesn’t like what a “potty mouth” I am on my blog. In all honesty, I feel pretty proud for limiting my profanity as much as I do, but whatever). In an instant she scooped me up and took me into the house, all the while frantically saying baby snakes were more poisonous than adults. After telling me to stay put, my mom disappeared into the garage, and marched out a few seconds later with a shovel. I watched through the window as she proceeded to hack the snake into mincemeat. And I kid you not, with each thrust of the shovel, she let out what I can only describe as a war cry. Seriously, the thing was a pile of pulp by the time she was done. Hell hath no fury like a momma protecting her young. On one hand, I was absolutely horrified at the tiny mess she left, but on the other, I knew my mom would shelter me from harm no matter what.

Like this, only worse.

Not only is my mom one hell of a protector, but if ever I am in a pickle, I know I can go to her for advice. Some years back, after a particularly long night partying, I woke up in the morning for work to discover I had serious circles beneath my eyes. I’m talking Vince Vaughn-style, bags on top of bags puffiness. So after taking a shower, I put some chamomile tea bags on my eyes and lay down to let them work their magic. Ten minutes later, I pulled them off and went to go dry my hair. Imagine my surprise to look in the mirror and see that I had two red rectangles on my eyes. RED. My first thought was that I had some sort of allergic reaction to the tea, but upon closer inspection I could see the skin wasn’t irritated, it was just bright fucking red. As it turned out, I used cranberry chamomile tea.

Holy shit.

I had a half hour before work, and nothing I tried removed the stains. Nothing. Finally, I called my mom in desperation, and fortunately she picked up the phone. After listening to me explain my dire situation, she spent a solid minute laughing the kind of hysterical laughter than makes your eyes water. But, when she finally caught her breath, she suggested I smear whitening toothpaste on the area and let it sit for thirty seconds or so. And guess what? It took the stain right off (and stung a little, but it was totally worth it). To this day my entire family rags on me about that one, but I did make it into work, on time, without eye bags or bright red squares. Thanks, mom.

Happy Monday y’all.

PS – Due to some ridiculous nonsense, I am temporarily holding comments for moderation. It annoys me endlessly I have to do this.