Call Your Mother

There is this commercial on television where a guy is on a rooftop fighting with other guys and there’s a helicopter and it looks like a fast-paced espionage movie. The guy’s phone rings and it’s his mother instead of whoever is supposed to be on that rooftop with him. The message is that moms call at the worst times. I can’t remember what company this commercial is for because the message about moms is what sticks with me.

It annoys me every time I see this commercial because my kids often call me when I’m at an appointment, out with friends, in the bathroom, have my hands in a meatloaf mix, or am editing the final copy of a poem. I don’t complain much about that because I’m just happy to hear from them. I adore them, in fact. Sometimes I tell them I have to call them back. And if I call them at a bad time, they can just say they have to talk to me later. Enough said.

But the mom in this commercial is calling her son to talk about squirrels in the attic or something. (What this an intended mindless mom metaphor? Grr.) I know the commercial is supposed to be funny and it’s supposed to be memorable and I’m not immune to the power of humor.

Still. Moms get a bad rap for being interested enough in their kids’ lives to call, to text, to try and communicate somehow. And young adult kids sometimes get kudos for creative ways of avoiding that communication. Does that help?

Hell no. It does not. It makes moms like me snort in derision and look around for a glass of wine and a pen. Well, a keyboard, in my case. And maybe Irish whiskey. And maybe a little place in Key West so I can pretend I’m Hemingway-esque in my writing efforts.

What? Oh, yeah, I’m getting away from the point.

Which is that sometimes I miss my mom and wouldn’t mind at all if she were still around to call me. And Mother’s Day is looming. And I’m so grateful that I can communicate with my kids without too much drama (as far as I know) and I want them to know that I won’t take it personally if I call them while they’re on a rooftop with helicopters and spies and they have to hang up on me.

If you don’t want your mom to call you at the worst possible time, then you need to call her. Right now.

Happy Mother’s Day next Sunday!

P.S.–its-what-you-do/44876 – I remembered the company. It’s Geico. Have a laugh but remember what I said.



  1. I don’t think I ever called my mom. I would drop in on her in her advanced years.
    Never mind what she said when she called me.


  2. My youngest son has an app on his phone that reminds him “Call your Mother” if he goes X amount of days without calling. 🙂 And he does call. And text. And drops by my office.
    Oldest son, well, I text him, get a reply back a few minutes hours or days later, if at all. He’s making his own life, and I’m okay with that. That’s why I bribe him with dinner out every few weeks. What poor starving post college student would turn down a free meal??


  3. Mother’s day is past here and it was on my mother’s birthday but I always called her when she was here to call.


  4. I call my mom every Sunday evening at the same time. She sits in her assisted living apartment waiting for my call. She always answers in the same way, tells me she has to turn off her TV. And then we talk, always starting with the weather (never mind that she doesn’t even go outdoors) and she tells me about playing BINGO and about…and then she often repeats what she’s just told me 15 minutes prior. I hang up feeling a bit sad at the aging of my mother, but thankful I can still call her every Sunday.

    As for my “kids,” I always hope they will respond/answer/reply when I try to communicate with them. With my son, especially, communication is a challenge. Sigh.


    1. Your phone calls with you mom remind me of my phone calls with my dad. My dad used to call me all the time and every single call included the question, “So, when are you coming by?” And I did pick him up a lot. My mom, unfortunately, was gone by then. And Dad was pretty lonely.


      1. My mom once told me that Sunday’s are the hardest day for her, I suppose because that’s considered a family day. After that comment, I decided that Sunday evening would be my time to call her.

        Unfortunately, she lives 2 1/2 hours away, so I do not see her often.

        How wonderful that your dad often called you. And, yes, I’m certain he was lonely. And what a wonderful daughter to visit him as often as you could.


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