Angry mama. Literally.

I labored on Labor Day, but that's not the most important thing that's happened today. My mom got older. Yeah. Old. Er.

I'm posting this here, not to be a "this is our family! Aren't we neat?! Look at us! Don't you want to be us!" blog (those blogs make me want to puke), but because it's a holiday, so you're going to get a "remember last year?" blog. Sorry.

Come back tomorrow if you want another, fresher story. Maybe you'd like to hear about how I just got done cleaning Dave's bathroom -- complete with before and after photos!

Or, how about how I put "works in eight hours!" oven cleaner in the oven and left it on for 27 hours because I forgot it was in there, and then when I went to clean it tonight, my lungs felt as if they were on fire! Doesn't that sound like something you'd want to read about!??

No? How about how Dave saw someone in the elevator in camo pants with gun shells on a belt around her waist? Yeah, actually, I kinda wish I knew more about that, come to think about it. But, sorry, that's all I know.

OK. Reminiscing it is, then.

I got engaged on a Friday or Saturday last year, but I kept it secret from my mom for two days because I knew she would be angry. She hates Dave. I mean, she can't stand him.

Just kidding. I was making sure you were paying attention.

I kept it secret because I was supposed to go see my mom on her BIRTHDAY, and I was poor so, hello, what better gift could I offer than the news of your finally getting rid of your daughter? That's what I said.

But I couldn't wait to tell someone that I got engaged, so I called my best friend. And my cousins. And Dave's parents. And his family. And my brothers. My best friend from college, Dave's best friend from college, etc., etc. Pretty much everyone in the world, except Mom. She really, really loves being the last one to know stuff.

So when I showed her the ring, finally, she looked around for my stepdad's reaction, but of course he already knew, so he said "What? Didn't you know?" and laughed.

I mean, the mailman had already found out, as did the guy working the gas station and the woman who was putting her groceries in her car whom we passed. She kept stammering. "Well, does Becky know?" Yes. "Does your cousin Kristen? Millie? Derrick? Christopher?" Yes, times four.

She was angry in a "well, I guess I'm glad you waited, but I'd rather have gotten some mums or something instead" kind of way.

I guess I owe her some mums. Dang.