Channeling my Mother

A few weeks ago I was clearing up the evening dishes. Distracted by conversation and news coverage, I let the hot water run a bit too long and nearly scalded my hands under the steaming faucet. Without hesitation I hollered out a saying: "Hot! Burn the baby!" then started to laugh.

There I was, channeling my mother again.

When we were little, that was mom's phrase to warn us about hot surfaces or boiling water. "Hot! Burn the baby!" was her way of teaching us to use caution around the stove, coffeepots, toasters, or a sink or bathtub filled with hot water. Even when we were older, she would continue to remind us of impending burns with the same phrase.

Mom used a heaping portion of idioms and colloquialisms in her daily life, with a side order of old wives' tales thrown in for good measure. These phrases were a natural part of her language; she had a saying suitable for nearly every occasion or circumstance.

As I began piecing together this journal, I discovered that I remembered much of the vernacular--some I use to this day--but had lost track of the more obscure bits and pieces that were standard fare in the colorful and interesting expressions used by my family. A quick internet search helped refresh my memory. Some of my all-time favorites are contained in this story.

One of mom's least favorite family members earned the nickname, Old Fuddy-Duddy. I can't imagine why she was like that, except possibly she was one of those people who seemed to get up on the wrong side of the bed nearly every day. However, you wouldn't dare tell the old fuddy-duddy what you really thought of her, because that would surely go over like a lead balloon.

Our neighbors who brought home a color television long before anyone else could afford one were living high on the hog, no doubt due to the fact that the husband had lucked into a new job where he was In Like Flynn. With a seemingly frivolous display of new wealth, the wife was frequently spotted in town all dolled up, prancing around like she was Astor's Pet Horse.

Mom wanted to make sure all of us were careful not to bite off more than we could chew. Apparently dad didn't need to worry about that particular problem because he had a cast iron stomach. Not long after finishing a meal, dad was likely to doze off... sometimes in the midst of a large family gathering. Word has it that he loved to nap so much he was capable of falling asleep on a picket fence.

My oldest brother Rich was often accused of making up cock and bull stories to explain his violation of curfews and other parental rules. Sometimes those stories were wildly fantastic scenarios that included everything but the kitchen sink. Fortunately, they were usually sufficient for him to get off Scot-free.

No one ever worried that middle brother Ted, the most responsible and studious of the bunch, would ever put all his eggs in one basket or lose his head. As such, he was voted most likely to go from rags to riches in his lifetime. Ted could usually be found toiling over his homework or art projects and never wavered from his goals, well, at least not until the cows came home.

Because of my proclivity to question everything and remain skeptical after otherwise acceptable explanations had been presented, mom had long ago dubbed me her Doubting Thomas. In my teenage years she warned against my tendency to go through life with a chip on my shoulder and pointed out that I was guilty of wearing my heart on my sleeve, a problem that plagues me to this day.

In winter, mom would lecture me about leaving the house with wet hair; you're just asking to get sick, she would say with a cluck of her tongue. But should that dry winter air make my palms itch, turns out there was a fifty-fifty chance some money might be coming my way. Unfortunately, I could never seem to remember which palm signified money in and which meant money out.

Many times I heard I was the spitting image of my mother in her younger years. I never could see it until I started getting a bit long in the tooth myself. One thing we do share is our housekeeping philosophy: If you don't have time for a thorough cleaning, just give the house a lick and a promise.

This past winter, Dave and I were at our favorite brewpub enjoying a drink at the bar. All day long my nose had been itching like crazy. As I sat there scratching the tip of my nose, I told Dave that according to my mother, this meant I was about to kiss a fool. Right then Dave leaned over and gave me a great big smooch. I can't remember if my nose stopped itching but I can report that my heart swelled in my chest.

Now, it's entirely possible that I'm pulling your leg about some of these situations. Because although I may remember the lingo, I don't always recall specific instances when they were used.

I bet most people have similar memories. What are your favorites?