Call your Mother

This wouldn’t be a Kvetch column if I didn’t start off with some classic Jewish mother guilt trip that I laid on my son, who, thank goodness, (thank goodness because that means he is healthy and beyond my generation worn tactics), was not having any of it.

I recently read somewhere…(opening a paragraph with that phrase, you just know I’m heading down a rabbit hole)…like, did I read it online, and if so, where online?...Facebook, Instagram, MSN newsfeed, etc. because, let’s face it, news keeps coming at me from everywhere all day, phone, computer, tv. And that does not include, emails, the Sunday New York Times actual paper, or any other magazine or subscription lying around. So, where I read something, unless instantly and duly noted, I haven’t a clue.

Let’s just guess, it popped up in my addicted laden doomscrolling through my phone, and/or perhaps it was an article from the NYT or possibly a CNN fun fact notice, which by the way, I don’t believe any news organizations have any fun fact moments anymore (did they ever?), well maybe the nightly news throws some feel-good tidbit in, in the failed attempt to leverage  what feels like the apocalypse these days.

Any hoots, back to the Jewish mother guilt trip…

So, I read somewhere, that there was a study that children who call their mothers once a day showed that the mothers tend to live longer. Wow! I love that. Except, I’ve been noticing lately, my once mama’s boy (his words at one point in time, not mine) son has of lately stopped calling very often. Definitely, not once a day. I mean, the absence is noticeable. The only other time this happened, and made sense to me, was when he went off to college and especially the year he spent at university in Japan.

So, like any good Jewish mother would do when this mothers live longer study crossed my lap, I forwarded it to him with a little side note that went, “just saying…no pressure"and added a smiley face emoji for proper punctuation.

He did send back a heart emoji, so I figured he took my passive/aggressive message all in good stride and would promptly adhere to a daily call/check-in with mom.

Well, hello, not really, because he still did not call, for days, maybe even a week, I don’t know, I was having a Jewish mother melt down by then, realizing my little bubala was all grown up, and I, apparently, was the one now acting like a child.

So, of course, as you can imagine, I was not going to let this go. I just put it aside, to strike again at the right time. I mean, I want to live. And if that means having my son call me every day to assure me a longer life, even if it’s full of agita, so be it!

Bingo, a few weeks later, when he started calling a bit more regularly, I found the moment and blurted out, “I think you want me to die!” Way out of left field mind you.

To which my healthy, mature son responded, “What are you talking about?!”  Which then was my opening to lay the guilt straight up. “Remember that article I sent you a few weeks ago, about mother’s who live longer if their children call them every day?”

To my utter dismay, he was not buying any of it and just casually and immediately veered off onto another topic.

I did notice though, to my somewhat relief, he has been texting me more lately.

I wonder if they did a study that shows kids who text their moms every day, the moms get to live a few minutes longer?

And while his life may no longer revolve around mine, my love for him is unwavering, however long I live.  And as my birthday is popping up any day now in April, I have to think something’s going right. Afterall, I made it another year around the son, I mean, the sun.

And for that I am very grateful.