The Walls of Jericho

My mom is a wonderful Mom. She is caring and loving. However, as any good Mom, she worries too much about me. Most kids can skin their knee or catch a cold without too much fuss. But when I catch a cold or injure anything, I get a full work up from my Mom. She inspects me, makes sure everything moves and works, checks my temperature, and takes a full history of my activities for the past few days. She then sighs and tells me that I am not being careful enough, and figures out a way to help me be more careful.

All of this came back to me when I headed home last weekend for my check in. I drove to my parent’s house, which is only about an hour away. I walked inside and found my Mom and my little brother walking around the house. Then, I followed my mom to the kitchen and sat down with her to give our usual rundown. It went as follows, loosely translated:

Me: “Hey mom, I am sorry I haven’t been home in a while. Things have been crazy.” Means: Things have been crazy lately.

Mom: “It’s okay, I understand.” Which means: You should be here more often.

Me: “Yeah, but I will try harder to get home more often.” Means: I know you’re not really okay with it.

Mom: “No, hunny I understand you are tired. We understand.” Means: Try harder.

Me: “Yeah, school is really kicking my butt lately, and with work and the volunteer projects it is like I never have a second to myself.” Means: I am so busy, leave me
alone.

Mom: “You took on too much. How are you feeling lately?” Means: I can tell you are not moving as fast as usual, mom sensor is going off.

Me: “Fine.” Means: I’m not fine, but I don’t want to go to the doctor’s so I am not telling you crazy lady.

Mom: “Megan…. You don’t look fine.” Means: If I keep nagging, she will tell me.

Me: “No, I am. It’s just normal stuff. Tired, catching everything from everybody. And I hurt my rib a little bit.” Means: My rib really really hurts, but this is my way of telling you without making it sound too bad.

Mom: “What do you mean you hurt your rib?” Means: Mom sensor is now going off with blinking lights and sirens.

Me: “Well I was just playing around and I accidentally hurt it.” Means: I am a little crazy and I did something not smart.

Mom: “Alright grab your stuff, we’re going to get an x ray.” Means: Follow.

Me: “No!!!! I just made a sandwich!” Means: I’m not even that hungry, but maybe if you think I am starving the mom instinct to feed me will trump the mom instinct to heal me.

Mom: “Make it to go.” Means: now!

Me: “No!!! I’m fine, watch (I leap into the air in a semi-spastic state and fall to the ground and throw my arms above my head in celebration).” Means: This hurts, but just maybe I can fool her.

Mom: “Okay, that means nothing other than you probably smacked your head when you hurt your rib.”Means: You didn’t fool me, you just looked stupid. (Flash back to the Stuart character from MadTv.)

We hop in the car, and drive the ER. We check in and go back to take an x-ray.

The doctor looks at me and asks how bad it hurts. I’m not much of a complainer, and I am used to pain. So I tell him it’s not that bad, and he explains it is probably just bruised. Well turns out, it’s not bruised, it’s broken. The doctor kind of laughed when he came back and told me it was broken. He asked why I wasn’t in more pain, and called me a tough cookie. I thanked him. He wrote me a prescription and other than that couldn’t really do much else. They used to wrap ribs back in the day but not anymore. The x ray really didn’t help much, all it seemed to do was worry my mom even more.

We went home, and I received a list of things not to do. It included things like: skiing, walking into walls, cliff diving, falling, mud wrestling, jello wrestling, extreme Frisbee, etc. These were some of the more pg rated things my mom named. Then, came the curiosity. My mom asked me how I happened to hurt my rib. Here is conversation number two minus the translations but including all of the standard mom faces:

Mom: “So, how exactly did you break your rib?”

Me: “Well me and one of my very good friends were playing Wii.”

Mom: “Well that doesn’t sound too rough?”

Me: “Well, the problem was is it was a very heated Wii match and when I lost it became a very heated wrestling match. You see I lunged, he swung, I jumped, he turned, and it all ended up in the walls of Jericho.”

Mom: “Do I want to ask you what the walls of Jericho is?”

Me: “The walls of Jericho is a wrestling move in which the person puts you on your stomach with your legs in the air, twists your legs, then pushes them to your head, and sits on you. “

Mom: “And who is this friend?”

Me: “My neighbor.”

Mom: “A male?”

Me: “Maybe.”

Mom: “Is the maybe a yes?”

Me: “Probably.”

Mom: “Well… is he at least cute?”

Me: “Good one mom, I see your priorities. Not especially cute when he was sitting on top of me in the walls of Jericho. But normally yes.”

Mom: “Got to look out for the grand kids, don’t want ugly ones. Okay, Megan, I’m thinking we should probably tell your dad a different story.”

So my mom and I finish this up with a few funny looks and some sly snickers. She then tells me that I am to tell this boy that I break easy, and if he is too rough with me again my mom will kick his butt. I reassure her that I will pass on this message, but somehow it is not enough for her. So as I pack up to head back home, she decides to write me a note, pin it to my shirt, and send me home with it.

So, being the strong and independent twenty-one year old I am, I return home to my college housing and walk past my room mate with a note pinned on my shirt that says:

Do not be rough with me. Signed Megan’s mom.