I Am NOT Your Mother!

I never thought of myself as Youth Impaired. Yes, I'm a bit big around the britches, but all in all, I'm young at heart.

Apparently my outsides aren't reflecting my insides.

I took my husband to the doctor a while back. He was dizzy and had no business driving, so I went with him and helped him into the doctor's office. The nurse smiled and asked "So, what's wrong with your son today?"
My son? What was she talking about? My son was in school, and...wait...oh no she didn't! This woman did not just assume I was my husband's mother, did she? I gave her another chance. "Excuse me?" I asked, raising a brow in warning.
She nodded towards my husband. "Your son- What's wrong with him today?"
That's it. She was on my hit list.
I smiled oh-so-sweetly. "My husband is having dizzy spells, like vertigo."
The nurse hid her incredulousness well. "Your husband? Oh- sorry about that."
Not well enough though. I could see the look in her eyes.
It said Humph. Cougar.
I sat my husband down, trying not to swat the little grin off of his face, and turned to the nurse, my composure riposted by a deep breath. I smiled again. "That's okay- we just had our nineteenth anniversary."
Let her chew on that for a while, I thought. Cougar, my Aunt Fanny.He's only five years my junior!
The nurse remained quiet except for a few medical questions, and then we went back into one of the little sub-offices to wait for the doctor.
When he came in, he greeted us and started asking much of the same questions to verify what the nurse wrote down. Then he turned to me and asked "And what's Mother's health history?"
Seriously? Did he just imply the same exact thing the nurse had?
This time I didn't miss a beat.
"I don't know about 'Mother's' history, since she's back at her place, probably gardening. You'll have to ask my husband about her health history."
"Oh!" he exclaimed, looking deeper into the paperwork. "He's forty-one, not twenty-one! He looks like a college kid."
Yeah. Thanks a lot, Buster. I heard my husband snort. I sat in the second chair, folded my arms and and gave a disgruntled snort.

Yet this wasn't the first time this has happened.

My husband had to return something to a local home improvement store, and as I sat on the bench (due to a pulled muscle in my hip), he went up to the returns cashier to get his refund, chatting with her about our impending lunch date. The young girl glanced at me and smiled at my husband. "Oh! You're so sweet to take your mom out to lunch!"

If my hip wasn't bothering me at the time, I would have vaulted over that counter and let her know what's what. Darn hip.
It didn't help that he grinned like a Cheshire cat through the entire lunch, telling the waitress what had happened. She thought I didn't look old at all and that we were a very adorable young couple. 

I gave her a big tip.

Now it's a big family joke. Anytime anyone refers to my husband as my son, we just laugh and tell the offenders the other stories and share the joke. The kids especially love to share the stories. But there's a little more to the stories than this!

Sometimes my daughter is called my husband's wife- and I'm still his mother. I'm my daughter's mother-in-law, despite the fact we look a lot alike.
My son is referred to as my husband's brother- and I'm still considered their mother.
Apparently I look my age. At least these people don't think I'm ancient. They just think my husband is my son, my son's brother, and my daughter's wife.

Nothing confusing about that at all.


It could be the grey hair the three of them gave me. My husband has a tiny bit of grey in his sideburns, but no one seems to notice that. Mine is a lightened blaze at the top of my forehead, and one single curl on the side (like a reverse dalmatian) which apparently can be seen via satellite.

I hope it becomes that pretty white kind of grey and not that 'non-color' grey- I'd have no idea what to put on my renewed driver's license under 'Description'. Maybe 'Platinum Blonde'. Yeah. I like the sound of that.

To my darling husband...I am not your mother. You don't want me as your mother, trust me- just ask the kids!