Mom found my stash!

This is why I think moms are smarter than dads. When your dad catches you doing something wrong, he will ask a bunch of loaded-gun questions and confront you and give you a lecture about being disappointed in you and the whole think-about-how-this-will-affect-your-future talk while you are either a) denying it or b) silently hanging your head in shame. From that moment on, instead of being more open with your dad all it teaches you is how to better cover your tracks.

But moms, they are different. Before they accuse you of doing anything they will somehow let you know they know. In few words they will make a comment. They will give you “the look.” This will either result in a) confessing, b) stopping the unfavorable habit, or c) both. They are like Law and Order detectives…. they put out the evidence first so you don’t waste your time in denying it. Sometimes they are like teachers, they just look at you and listen real good, and out of nervousness you keep talking and then you are like "how did I let all that out?" You start having verbal diarrhea.

I came home this morning from Strayleah. We are in the process of moving and I remember my mom saying on the phone how she wanted to sell a bunch of furniture. Of course I thought nothing of it at the time. Living at home at my age, you gotta have a goodie drawer… you can’t just leave stuff out in the open and being the type of woman who respected privacy, my mom never pried into my business so I never worried. But then the policewoman who lives across the street said she was interested in buying my dresser.

So this morning I come home and find all my drawers taken out of my dresser. In the middle of my bed are all sorts of rolling papers, filters, and a little plastic bag with brown stuff in it. This is why I respect my mom and give her credit. She didn't say anything. She knows that would freak me out and when I freak out, I am less likely to open up and talk. Even if she looked at me for too long or too closely that would freak me out. But there were no mention, no knowing smiles.... just the stuff neatly on my bed. In other words, she knows. And then this afternoon she called from work to say "Did you polish the wood on your dresser? The policewoman is going to pick it up tonight." That's basically her way of checking if I even walked into my room, and trying to find out if I know that she knows. So all this means that she will expect a confession tonight.

Imaginary conversation:
“Hey ma, you know that stuff you put on my bed?”
Then she will give me the look. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that I am over that stuff. That’s the old me, I’m molding young minds now. See, its not even green. What does that tell you? It tells you that it’s real old. Anyways, you look tired now. How about I do all the dishes and put on a nice movie for you? Oh, and did I tell you today that I love you?”