How I Betrayed My Mother: A Family Comedy

"You betrayed your mother."

This is my mother talking.

"I have been betrayed."

She feels betrayed because my young brother David has decided that at the age of eighteen, he'd like to move out of my Mom's house and get a place with his friends before going to a college in another part of the state.

Knowing that this is something that would drive my mother past eighteen boxes of Kleenex, my brother asked my advice about the situation and then asked me not to tell her that he was thinking of moving out.

I agreed.

...Big Mistake...

I stopped by my Mom's house to say "Hello," and the instant I walked in the door, I knew I was in for it.

David was sitting at the kitchen table looking like a political prisoner.

"She knows."
"What do you mean she knows?"
"She looked through my phone."
"You left your phone in plain sight?!? Are you insane?"

When you live with my mother, you have to act as if you're living in East Berlin. Are you surprised my brother wants to move out?

"Where is she?"
"In her room...waiting for you."
"Oh God..."
"Don't run. She'll find you."

He was right.

I went into my Mom's room. She was sitting on the edge of her bed holding a photo of me and my brothers when we were kids. It makes her feel better when she's upset to remember a time when she had complete control over our lives and everything we did.

I would imagine that Mormon leaders feel the same way about the wives that escape the compounds.

"Hi Mom..."
"You betrayed me."
"I guess we're going right into it, aren't we?"
"How could you keep this from me?"
"He asked me to."
"I"m your mother."
"He's my brother."
"Mother trumps brother."
"Not when it's not life-threatening. He wanted advice on moving out, and I told him it wasn't a good idea."

That threw her. She didn't know that I advised him to stay put until he could save up more money.

For a second, she looked relieved, then she remembered that sting of deception.

"You should have told me."
"One day he might need me, and if he knows that I run to you and spill my guts, then he won't call me. Then he might try driving drunk or eloping in Maine."
"He's supposed to call me. I'm his mother."
"You call your mother when you need money or your laundry done. You call your older brother for everything else."

She looked down at the photo.

"He hates me."

I sat down next to her on the bed.

"He doesn't hate you."
"That's why he wants to leave."
"He wants to leave because you raised him to work hard and want the best for himself. He wants to be independent."
"So it's my fault!"
"You're impossible."
"Is that why you left?"

That's my mom for you. Her kids are her life, and now that her kids are growing up, she's not sure what her life is going to be now.

"I left because I needed to have my own life. And now you can have your own life, Mom. You worked hard all these years. You deserve to have fun for once. And you can't do that with a house full of twenty-somethings."

I could have also reminded her that the odds are my youngest brother Ryan is never going anywhere. Ryan gets lost going to the bathroom in the middle of the night. There's a good chance a house of his own is not in his immediate future.

Instead of saying that, I just gave her a hug.

"I'm sorry I betrayed you."
"It's a mother's burden. Your children turn on you."
"Remind me to never have kids."
"You better have kids. I already have a 'World's Best Grandmother' sweater."

I guess betrayal is a forgivable sin after all.