I've been home for two weeks now, reverting to a younger Kate, in my old bedroom, not driving, rolling my eyes at my parents. My mom lives for her kids. She doesn't yell or raise her voice or share unkind opinions. (No, I'm not sure I'm her real daughter either.) Unfortunately, she says things that only 80% make sense.
Example:
Me: Mom? Can I finish the broccoli?
Mom: It's all about you!
I've held off blogging about it as long as I could, but dammit I've reached my limit. This whole exchange started innocently enough. I mentioned I was one of the few people who had blogs whose parents knew about it.
Me: Wouldn't it be weird if I came home and told you I'd had a blog for three years and you didn't know it?
Mom: I still think it'll happen for you someday.
Me: What????? You already know about my blog.
Mom: I think it'll happen for you someday. You'll be on the Today Show.
Me: (More concerned) WHAT?!?! No, I mean if I told you, "I have a blog" and you didn't know about it.
Mom: Oh. I still think you'll be on the Today Show someday.
Me: Of course, but not for my blog.
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