by Nicole Crews

Me: Mother, so what do you want for Mother’s Day?

Mother: Nothing.

Me: I know! We can get mother-daughter tattoos. I’ll get “All She Wrote” as a tramp stamp. What would yours say?

Mother: “Do Not Resuscitate.”

On Education:

Scene: Early September dinner time at the Crews household and my hair is in pre-Bo Derek cornrows because it meant I didn’t have to wash it if Miss Ruby, my nanny, braided it that way:

Mother: So what did you and Ruby do today Nicole?

Me: Ruby took me to my first day of school!

Father: She did what?!

Me, proudly: Yes, we walked to Kern Street School and I signed up for the free lunch!

Mother, dropping her cigarette: Hand me the phone, Joe.

On Fashion:

Scene: Driving from the lake on Mother’s Day in a bikini with a bucket of chicken, and emerging from the car to greet mother.

Mother: Yeesh, Nicole, do you even own any pants?

Me: Says the woman who greeted my high school date at the door in panties and one of dad’s undershirts.

Mother: Well, we didn’t have air conditioning.

On Sports:

Mother: So what do you want to watch tonight?

Me: I thought we could watch the Super Bowl.

Mother: I’m sorry, my hearing must be going. I thought you said you wanted to watch the Super Bowl.

Me: Very funny. C’mon, it’ll be fun with the commercials and the halftime show.

Mother: This reminds me of when you were a cheerleader and I asked if you understood football.

Me: What did I say?

Mother: You said, “It doesn’t matter whether you win or lose, you still get to cheer.”

Mother: Did you watch the Final Four? Duke won?

Me: I know mother. The whole world knows mother — with the exception of certain drag queens and various Trappist monks.

Mother: Well if they’re from North Carolina they should know it too.

On Holidays:

Scene: Epic Halloween blowout at my late-’90s apartment and my mother shows up in a full-length mink with a sweeping sable collar and a More menthol dangling from her mouth.

Me: So who are you supposed to be?

Mother: You in 40 years.

On Parenting:

Mother: So what event are you attending tonight?

Me: Corks for Kids.

Mother: Good. Children today don’t know how to use cutlery.

Me: I said “Corks,” not “Forks” mother.

Mother: What’s the difference?

On my Love Life:

Mother: So why did you come home so early from your date last night?

Me: That’s none of your business.

Mother: Nicole, your love life is a conundrum, not a business.

On Hair:

Mother: So, are you single handedly bringing back the “Rachel?”

Me: Rachel who worked at the coffee shop or Rachel the buyer at Bloomingdales?

Mother: Does it matter? It’s still Greek Girl Blond.

Me: Says the woman who went from Cruella DeVille to Tina Louise in one swift dye job.

Mother: Answer the question.

Me: Well if it’s Bloomingdale’s buyer then yes, why not? It’s worked for Greek girl Jen Aniston for all these years.

Mother: Angelina Jolie might beg to differ.

Me: Your hair may be lighter, but your roots are still dark.

On Greensboro:

Mother: So has anyone come up with a slogan for Greensboro yet?

Me: I drove by the Convention & Visitor’s Bureau the other day and noticed a club next door called “Sexy Party Bar & Club” maybe that should be it: Greensboro: It’s one Sexy Party.

Mother: They should have embraced the Green trend when it was still green.

Me: That’s what my friend Angie said when we were walking the Greenway the other day.

Mother: Greensboro: The Green Way

Me: I just wish they would stop building doo-dads along the Greenway and finish the actual greenway.

Mother: The Greenway wasn’t built in a day.

Me: You may be on to something.

FullSizeRender

©

On Vikings:

Mother: You never know a man until you see him on a boat, on a mountain or in the cut.

Me: How about in his cups?

Mother: Well, that’s a given.

Me: I think it’s funny how the Viking takes his pants off like a fireman — in a perfectly stepped-out-of stovepipe pile.

Mother: Nicole, firemen don’t step out of their pants like that. They step into their pants like that.

Me: Either way, that’s hot.

Mother: Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

Me: The Viking sets his pants on fire almost every day, welding.

Mother: Pants on Fire is an excellent Indian name for him.

On Food:

Mother: What did you have for dinner last night?

Me: I clubbed some baby kale.

Mother: Why?

Me: I needed strength for the Golden Globes.

On the Oscars:

Mother: Did you watch the Oscars?

Me: You mean the Oprahs?

Mother: The camera did seem to spot on her a lot.

Me: Yeah. You’d think she was Kanye at the Grammys.

Mother: Who is Kanye? Oh. I know. That rude rapper. I’m glad he’s not in the movies. So many rappers are.

Me: Street cred pays off on screen. I have to say that I love Common though.

Mother: Who is Common?

Me: He’s kind of like the Harry Belafonte of this era.

Mother: Then why is he called Common?

Me: I think he was originally named Common Sense but some ska band with the same name sued him.

Mother: I’m not even going to ask what ska is. It sounds like something my neighboring Swedes would eat in Minnesota.

On Death:

Mother: Where are you going all dressed up?

Me: I’ve got another funeral.

Mother: Don’t be like me and outlive all of your friends.

Me: You’ve still got me mother.

Mother: Nicole, you’re my child. Not my friend.

Join the First Amendment Society, a membership that goes directly to funding TCB‘s newsroom.

We believe that reporting can save the world.

The TCB First Amendment Society recognizes the vital role of a free, unfettered press with a bundling of local experiences designed to build community, and unique engagements with our newsroom that will help you understand, and shape, local journalism’s critical role in uplifting the people in our cities.

All revenue goes directly into the newsroom as reporters’ salaries and freelance commissions.

🗲 Join The Society 🗲