Mom Doesn’t Check Voicemails
It’s just under a month before I head to the midwest and visit my Korean mom and my brother who genially puts up with her. The original plan was to fly to Chicago and spend a few days in the Windy City since my boyfriend has never been, then drive to Detroit and spend a few days cursing Tim Allen and his deceptive Pure Michigan commercials (“I don’t recall seeing any fast food chains or slums in those sweeping lake shots…”). After doing some research, however, I found out that it is obscenely expensive to rent a car in one state and drop it off in another. It turned out to be loads cheaper to book a short flight from Chicago to Detroit and rent a car at the airport (not to mention faster) than to drive, so we changed our plans slightly.
When it came time to call Mom and inform her of the brief switch, I didn’t think it would be a big deal (oh how I underestimate that tiny Asian woman). She didn’t pick up so I left a quick message letting her know that we were now flying to Detroit and would just pick up a car. I hung up and thought nothing more of the matter.
Roughly 40 minutes later, my Mom called back.
Mom: “What’s wrong!?”
Mom: “What’s wrong?? You call! Something wrong?!!”
Me: “What the–no! Didn’t you listen to the message I left you?” I could have sworn she knows how to check her voicemail, but considering this is the same woman who I once caught trying to change the channel by pointing the cordless phone at the television, you never know.
Mom: “No, I was on freeway! I see you call and worry something’s wrong!”
Me: “I just called to tell you that we’ll be flying to Michigan from Chicago instead of driving.”
Me: “…so I just thought you wanted to know! Good lord…”
Mom: “…that’s it?”
Me: “Yeah, that’s it. What’d you think was going on?”
Mom: “My gahhhhh, I thought you get hurt practicing for Iron Chef race! I worry!”
I honestly don’t know what to focus on here. Is it the fact that my mom may or may not know how to check her voicemail? Or that she instantly thinks I’m dying in a hospital whenever she sees a missed call from me (as if I’d be coherent enough to call and update her about my critical condition)? Or how about the fact that she has now referred to an Ironman race as both a “Macho Man” and an “Iron Chef race”? Way too much going on in this conversation.