MUSE Magazine Issue XIX

Mommy Dearest By Sam Turnbull

PHOTOGRAPHY BY NICOLAS FAN

My mom is a five-foot-nothing spitfire. She is the most beautiful and fashionable woman I have ever met and ever will. She has an impeccable, clever, and dark sense of humour that flies over most people’s heads. And she has never been your typical parental figure. My earliest memory of her “parenting style” comes from one of my rides home from daycare. I announce to her that I am now interested in outer space. This is when I am asked if I know all of the planets. I’m four, so of course I don’t. Excitedly, my mom lists off each one, having me repeat them to solidify my new and important knowledge.

Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Oregano, Neptune, Pluto

If you caught the mistake, congratulations. I didn’t until mid-elementary school. This was neither the first, nor last time something like that happened. I spent a large chunk of my childhood being corrected by my dad over random quirks and tidbits my mom had taught me. It isn’t every day that you get a living blank slate to play with. So, she took that opportunity and ran with it. From teaching me every animal sound incorrectly to suggesting that the alphabet doesn’t actually have to be in the order it appears in, my mom did her absolute best to either ruin my childhood or make it the greatest possible experience one could have. I think of it as the latter, whereas my elementary school teachers might slightly disagree. This could be due to the fact that I believed my last name was “Do” until the first grade, which makes the whole learning-how-towrite situation a bit difficult.

She even managed to convince both me and a few of my friends that my dad was a pioneer. This was during a phase where she made everyone speak in different accents at the dinner table because “it was bad luck not to”. To this day, my mother’s sense of humour reigns true. Her “care-packages” contain nothing that a typical university student may need, or even want. But the break I take from work while my housemate and I chase each other around with the Nerf guns she sent is somehow exactly what I need. The straw wrapper that falls out of my great grandmother’s locket during class is what makes me smile during the toughest of exam seasons. The bag of comically large heart stickers is perfect in cheering up my friends by sticking them to every one of their possessions when they’re stressed to the max. I like to think that I grew up in an untraditional environment. Not in a bad way, though. I could easily be upset that my mom’s life lessons have only brought me many confused looks and awkward remarks. But her sense of humour has most certainly rubbed off on me. I am able to look past a lot of things that could ruin someone else’s day. She taught me that it is easier to laugh at something than get mad at it. And now, I look forward to one day helping my own child learn the ways of her world. So here I am. Coming at you live from the planet, Oregano, where every animal makes a different sound than you’d expect. The pigs in the yard are crowing at the moon while the dogs hide in bed purring like a giant, homogenous chainsaw. And I, Sammy-Do, write in the legacy of my mom, who has shown me the importance of laughing alone.