Spiders for Mom
I got lucky as a mom. When Catherine was little, she gave me all the macaroni necklaces and refrigerator art my heart could desire. I think I gave my mom the same. I hope I did, but now that I think back, all I can remember are the ashtrays. Sometimes, as a special treat, I’d get to go to Lagoon amusement park with a friend, and we were always given a few dollars to blow on the carnival games. Unfortunately for my parents, one of the games I liked best was the dime toss, because I almost always won something. That something was usually a cheap glass ashtray. I’d present this to my mother thinking it was pretty, and not thinking at all that no one in our family smoked. Those ashtrays lived for years stacked in the back of the kitchen cupboard.
Winning prizes reminds me of a surprising reaction my sisters and I once got from my dad. Dad was a mild mannered, very sweet man who cared about books, music and languages, and didn’t care at all about things like cars, money, sports or whether the house was falling down around him. It was his generosity that kept Mom well supplied with ashtrays for all those years.
Most summers we would load up the station wagon and head for San Diego where my grandparents lived. This took us through Las Vegas where we faithfully engaged in three traditions, the breakfast buffet at Circus Circus, the car breakdown and my mother’s astonishment and great annoyance that none of us wanted to eat the soggy sandwiches she had so laboriously packed for us.
One year it fell to Dad to entertain the three of us while Mom dealt with the mechanic. Since we were so young, there was really only one place we could go and that was back to Circus Circus. We were thrilled! There were so many games to play! In vain, Dad tried to direct our attention to the free circus acts but none of us would be distracted. Frustrated, Dad actually raised his voice, “This place is completely immoral! If you kids could gamble, at least then you’d have a chance of winning something useful!” We stared at him. Hearing Dad snap was shocking—like seeing Mr. Rogers lose his temper. But we had hours to kill, and Dad never stood a chance. Besides, Circus Circus had great stuff! Maybe Dad hadn’t noticed the very fine Last Supper painted on black velvet? I’d win it for him and then he’d be glad we came.
There’s no doubt that my parents, like most parents, were long suffering heroes. But I pride myself that, whatever my faults may have been, at least I didn’t bring extra spiders into their lives. My friend, Chelsea, wasn’t so lucky.
One memorable year, Chelsea’s son gave her a paper cup covered with a paper towel and told her not to look inside. Thinking it was some kind of plant for Mother’s Day, she put the cup on the kitchen windowsill and honorably did not look—at least not until the morning she noticed movement under the towel. She looked, and AAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!! Dropping the cup, hundreds of spiders joyfully scurried out to freedom.
From her son’s point of view, live spider egg sacs were a rare and fascinating find and thinking (at least partly correctly), that his mom would find them interesting too, gave them to her with all the love in his heart. And now they were hatching IN THE KITCHEN!!! AAAAIIIIEEEEE!!!!!
Since I’ll probably safely be getting flowers for Mother’s Day, I can afford to agree with her son that this was an amazing present. I’ve never seen a spider egg sac and would love to see the spiders hatching, so long as they’re doing so in their natural habitat—which to be clear, is in a zoo behind glass.
But maybe this year I can help everybody out. Those ashtrays have got to be around somewhere. Maybe I could offer them to Chelsea’s kids to give to her for Mother’s Day. They’re a lot less useful than spiders, especially since their family doesn’t smoke either, but at least they’re pretty.
Winning prizes reminds me of a surprising reaction my sisters and I once got from my dad. Dad was a mild mannered, very sweet man who cared about books, music and languages, and didn’t care at all about things like cars, money, sports or whether the house was falling down around him. It was his generosity that kept Mom well supplied with ashtrays for all those years.
Most summers we would load up the station wagon and head for San Diego where my grandparents lived. This took us through Las Vegas where we faithfully engaged in three traditions, the breakfast buffet at Circus Circus, the car breakdown and my mother’s astonishment and great annoyance that none of us wanted to eat the soggy sandwiches she had so laboriously packed for us.
One year it fell to Dad to entertain the three of us while Mom dealt with the mechanic. Since we were so young, there was really only one place we could go and that was back to Circus Circus. We were thrilled! There were so many games to play! In vain, Dad tried to direct our attention to the free circus acts but none of us would be distracted. Frustrated, Dad actually raised his voice, “This place is completely immoral! If you kids could gamble, at least then you’d have a chance of winning something useful!” We stared at him. Hearing Dad snap was shocking—like seeing Mr. Rogers lose his temper. But we had hours to kill, and Dad never stood a chance. Besides, Circus Circus had great stuff! Maybe Dad hadn’t noticed the very fine Last Supper painted on black velvet? I’d win it for him and then he’d be glad we came.
There’s no doubt that my parents, like most parents, were long suffering heroes. But I pride myself that, whatever my faults may have been, at least I didn’t bring extra spiders into their lives. My friend, Chelsea, wasn’t so lucky.
One memorable year, Chelsea’s son gave her a paper cup covered with a paper towel and told her not to look inside. Thinking it was some kind of plant for Mother’s Day, she put the cup on the kitchen windowsill and honorably did not look—at least not until the morning she noticed movement under the towel. She looked, and AAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!! Dropping the cup, hundreds of spiders joyfully scurried out to freedom.
From her son’s point of view, live spider egg sacs were a rare and fascinating find and thinking (at least partly correctly), that his mom would find them interesting too, gave them to her with all the love in his heart. And now they were hatching IN THE KITCHEN!!! AAAAIIIIEEEEE!!!!!
Since I’ll probably safely be getting flowers for Mother’s Day, I can afford to agree with her son that this was an amazing present. I’ve never seen a spider egg sac and would love to see the spiders hatching, so long as they’re doing so in their natural habitat—which to be clear, is in a zoo behind glass.
But maybe this year I can help everybody out. Those ashtrays have got to be around somewhere. Maybe I could offer them to Chelsea’s kids to give to her for Mother’s Day. They’re a lot less useful than spiders, especially since their family doesn’t smoke either, but at least they’re pretty.
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