“Jewish Mothers for Dummies”

Most of you are probably aware of, or have read – the Dummy series of books. This very popular, profitable and prolific series, covers such comprehensive and diverse subjects as: sex, sports, Shakespeare, software, scuba diving and snorkeling! But there’s one important subject that deserves a book of its own: Jewish mothers. Although there’s a “Judaism for Dummies,” it isn’t enough. So I think that someone who has vast personal experience with Jewish mothers should write this special book; and that lucky person is me.

Millions of other Jews, both male and female have Jewish mothers – but I’ve decided to take on this burden of educating the public. I know – “it’s a nasty job but…” It will be a daunting and dangerous challenge (because my mother might disinherit me), but I’m willing to sacrifice my future financial security – so that others may profit from my pain. And I also might make some shekels – too. I not only have the knowledge, necessary to tackling such a sensitive subject, I also have the chutzpah to pull it off. I’ve decided, like any author – to divide the book into chapters. So the following is a rough outline of “Jewish Mothers for Dummies – A (S)mothering Manual.”

INTRODUCTION:

I’m hoping for the introduction, to persuade some famous folks who have Jewish mothers – to write a few lines. If Judge Judy, Dr. Ruth, and Gloria Steinem aren’t available, I’ll have to use a few of my friends. My pals may not have the class and cash of the aforementioned – but they have an abundance of sass and crass. In fact, hearing my friend Devorah rant about her Jewish mother, is more entertaining than even a Joan River’s show. “Can she talk?!” After listening to Devorah’s stories about her mother’s mishigos – you’ll think it’s miraculous that she ever finished therapy. And it only took her two decades!

CHAPTER ONE: NEUROSIS:

Chapter One is the fundamental foundation, on which this book is based. It’s impossible to write about Jewish mothers – without a basic background in understanding neurosis. Even though I lack a psychology degree, I have the next best thing: a lifetime of enduring a Jewish mother. And Google. I can quote all of the experts in the world, however, but the following joke sums it all up: Q: How many Jewish mothers does it take to change a lightbulb? A: Don’t bother, I’ll sit in the dark, I don’t want to be a nuisance to anyone. In my humble opinion, you can be Freud or Jung – and still be unable to cope with your mom’s craziness. Which brings us promptly, to the next chapter.

CHAPTER TWO: BASIC SEMITIC SURVIVAL SKILLS:

I’m going to skip all of the childhood crap, and cut to the chase. The most important thing that any Jew can learn is how to survive a Jewish mother – without either killing her or yourself. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that a self-defense course or two – will solve the problem. You can have a black belt in martial arts, and still be slayed by one sarcastic statement from your ninety pound, little old lady (my tusch!” ) Jewish mother. Let me give you a personal and painful example. Several years ago during my mom’s annual visit, she woke me up around four in the morning. Surprisingly, I was sound sleep. But mom, at her ripe old age of seventy-two – was already up and wanted coffee. Fine. But I made the fatal error, of suggesting to her that she could be a little quieter. Oy fucking vey! Not only did that comment make her go ballistic, she then asked me the following non sequitur question, “Could you ask your therapist something for me?,” she snapped at me (gee, wonder why I need therapy to begin with?!). I was mute. She then said, “Ask her why you go out of your way, to look as unattractive as you possibly can.” Fuck Me! I just asked the bitch to be quiet and she knifed me. Furthermore, to add insult to injury, not only did she never apologize for her attack (to this day) – she also continued to crash and clang in the kitchen. And when I actually asked my counselor her question, she was dumbfounded. She literally sat there, with her mouth open. All of her years of therapeutic training were useless. Mom had stumped and stupefied, another expert.

I’ll bet that even a highly trained Navy Seal or Green Beret, couldn’t cope with such a snide swipe. All of the gear and guns in the world, are futile artillery in a situation like that; there’s clearly a need for a “Bubbe Bootcamp.” So what to do? I wish that there was a simple solution that I could suggest to you; an easy way out of a seemingly unsolvable problem. Unfortunately, there isn’t. Although there are many similarities, like all people – each Jewish mother is unique. Therefore, the best that I can do, is to offer you some tried and true tricks; which I’ll discuss in the next chapter.

CHAPTER THREE: MESHUGANAH MECHANISMS:

I’ve divided this chapter into two subsections: A. Minor Mishigos, and B. Major Mishigos. These categories have a lot in common, and many of the training techniques are applicable to either one.

MINOR MISHIGOS:

Some sound examples of minor mishigos are: 1. kvetching about things that you have no control over, like: the weather, the stock market, and your new, shiksa neighbors, and 2. kvetching about things that you have some control over, like: your weight, your kids, and your maid. This category is fairly easy to handle. My best advice is, just let your mother complain. As long as it’s impersonal, it doesn’t really affect you. It’s nice if you occasionally throw in an interjection, like: Oy! This shows that you’re listening to mom, when you’re really tuning her out. Oy is the catchall kvetch word for all Jews (and many Gentiles, as well). You can’t err if you effectively use this word. Please practice the intonation, however, if you want to maximize its power. The tone of your voice when saying this whiny word – should be a cross between exasperation and empathy. Drawing the word out, is important – too. Linger on the y, and end it with an audible sigh.

MAJOR MISHIGOS:

This category really separates the winners from the whiners. Major mishigos is what I consider the frontline of the war against Jewish mothers. If you can surmount this sanity-taxing category – you can handle almost anything difficult, like: recovering from a bad perm, not getting laid in months, and losing your last, and favorite – MAC lipstick. I’ll give you another personal example, from my own life. Ever since I transformed into a dyke, my mom periodically asks me, “Honey, are you still a lesbian?” You might ask, “How can such an innocent question drive you crazy?” Listen up, people: it ain’t the question, it’s the intent underlying the words. What mom is asking me, is much more than a queer query. What she’s really asking me is, “Why aren’t you married to a rich and successful (male!) doctor or lawyer,” and “Couldn’t you have given me at least one grandchild?”

So this relatively innocuous question, is a veritable landmind ; one must tread cautiously and carefully, since the slightest wrong move can cause an explosion. I’m not concerned for my welfare here, but my mother’s – because whenever she asks me this, I wanna kill her! I wish that I could share the secret of solving this kind of situation; but unfortunately, I can’t. I doubt that even King Solomon, in his infinite wisdom – could cope with a Jewish mother out to “draw blood.” My best advice is to try and duck, as the bitch’s bullets barrage you. Once in a while, attempt to get in a few zingers of your own. Once again, I’ll share an example from my battlefield. Although mom knows how to push my buttons, I also know how to push hers! Sometimes in life, it’s not “survival of the fittest, but “survival of the wittiest.” And my mother’s no match for me, in the comeback combat arena. It’s almost unfair, and I’ve actually felt (mild) pity for her, when she struggles (in vain) to retort to my rougish remarks.

The one surefire way, of defending myself against mom – is to just say the word: energy. Energy is to my mother, what a red flag is to a bull: she snorts, stamps her (hoofs) high heels, and charges (usually, more shoes). Although mom is an intelligent woman (was valedictorian for her graduating class) – she fails to understand a simple scientific fact: that everything in the universe is composed of energy. She mistakenly believes that any usage of that “woo-woo” word, is flaky and flighty. So if, during a fight, I casually say, “energy” – she almost waves a white surrender flag. The poor woman doesn’t know how to respond. And on the rare occasions that saying energy doesn’t work – I bring out my “big guns”: karma and reincarnation. Despite the evidence that both karma and reincarnation are probable – mom mocks them. She becomes livid at the mere mention of “other lifetimes.” If she did exist before, mom was probably my daughter. And with my mazal, I’m paying for it now. Big time. My mother has the spiritual depth of a well-used sponge. Not only is she disinterested in anything but the present, she holds a barely concealed contempt for anyone who dares to “dabble” in the depths of their soul. God forbid, that the Macy’s shoe sale shouldn’t be the top priority for her dyke daughter. And when my dad was alive, it was even worse. As much as I loved my father he believed exactly the same as my mom, when it came to the spiritual realms. Countless times, over decades – I bravely broached the forbidden subject. Their non-reactions were a combo of boredom, disinterest, and irritation. Finally, I gave up and only spoke about “safe” subjects, like: family, friends and finances. I guess you could say that they “won the battle but not the war.” I’d be willing to place a bet, that if the Dali Lama had been born to a Jewish mother – that even he, would’ve had a harder time becoming enlightened. And if he’d had a Jewish mother, she probably would’ve pushed him into getting a business degree: just in case “this metaphysical dreck doesn’t pan out.”

CONCLUSION – LESBIAN LIBERATION!:

Their lack of understanding and support, only spurred me to greater explorations and studies of spirituality. I know that this detour from my book’s subject matter appears irrelevant – but it isn’t. The point that I’m making is this: your Jewish mother’s meshuganah making behavior, can ultimately become an asset not a liability. If I’d had, for example, a mother who regularly meditated, went to ashrams, and had an alter to Athena – I might’ve rebelled and become a straight Republican, safely married to a bank manager. We’d have two kids and a suburban house. We’d only schtupp in the missionary position, and we’d both have affairs – within our first five years of marriage. Instead, partially due to my mother’s conservative ways, I’ve morphed into a deviant dyke – who delights in harassing and haranguing her mom. Ironically, mom helped make me into what I am today: a quippy, lippy lesbian.

Thanks a bunch, mom! I really appreciate all of those miserable years of fighting and biting back my words. If it weren’t for you, I might’ve turned out to be you! Therefore, I think that I’ve changed my mind about writing a manual on Jewish mothers. I’d much rather spend my energy on writing about the erotic energy between dykes. And I owe my lesbian “lightbulb” moment all to you. I think that I’ll even dedicate the book in your name: “To my meshuganah mother, may she rest in peace” (after she plotzes from reading this book!).

~ by kissandkvell on May 19, 2009.