The Almond Joy diaries

Sue spears a chunk of lamb, and flicks it back on my plate: “You don’t have enough to take home for dinner.” Never mind that I have a full refrigerator and freezer at home, it’s critical that the lamb be packed for another meal. Given my mother’s portfolio of worries, it never occurred to me that Sue feared an imminent diagnosis of anorexia. The last time I was a size 8, Reagan was in office, I was studying Catcher in the Rye at Hopkins, and Sue had a job.

In August, I visited the ‘rents in New Haven. It was a typical visit: Sue accidentally referred to Gracie (their schnauzer) as Rachel, Mike (my dad) offered to drive me to Union Station after I’d only been at their house an hour and they both used my youthfulness and mobility to fetch them their reading glasses and random morsels from the cluttered kitchen.

The NHFD weren’t called to Oliver Road this time (Sean Patton to the rescue, OMG!) But I questioned Sue’s judgment when she microwaved a frozen Almond Joy without unwrapping it. I mean, I get it, they’re not spring chickens any more — Sue will celebrate her 75th on Dec. 26. Gd bless her!

Sue (my mom) has never missed an opportunity to ensure and confirm my safety. I am repeatedly told to not ride my bike on Whalley Avenue in the dark and to stop giving drivers the digital symbol when they piss me off. Sue warns: “Rachel, I don’t care what someone yells from a car or does: one day, someone like your father, for example, will run you off the road or crash into you. Use some common sense.”

In August, we went out to Starbucks on Amity Road. I treated me and Mom to coffee and a chocolate chip cookie. Then, I had just started OA (Overeaters Anonymous) and I was struggling to abstain from flour and sugar. Sue chirped, “Do not covet your mother’s cookie.” Though the outing was enjoyable, I didn’t realize that there was a contingency. As a condition of getting coffee, I was expected to walk Gracie when we returned home.

Walk the dog, shovel the snow, set the table … some chores haven’t changed since the days of Edgewood School and (the late) Mr. Cavallaro. There’s definitely a division of labor in the Eisner household. She feeds the dog and makes Mike take out the trash and go to Stop & Shop. As for paying bills, Mike insists on that being his sole responsibility. Dad claims that in 1978, Sue forgot to pay UI and the electricity went out.

Mom always appreciates the humor in situations. Neither of my parents hold much of a grudge, but after the RotoRooter incident of 2015 (details include flooding in the basement and a gargantuan weekend plumbing bill), Sue said, “Not to fear, Dad is working on the outhouse in the backyard.”

Between my disregard for home and property, psychotherapy and dental work, I’ve cost them a fortune, no cliché intended. I still contest that I’m the

“favorite.” Seth, my brother, lives in Seattle and visits every five years. Seth insists on staying in a hotel, maintaining that “their clutter gives him anxiety,” to which Sue responds” f—ing prima donna!”

Despite an occasional outburst. Mom is sweet, supportive and can be cute. I could say that I’m low on socks and underwear: two days later, an Amazon package will appear at my doorstep with like 20 pairs of socks and three packages of Hanes, as if there are no Walmarts in Worcester. Or when I mention that I need to get some eyedrops, Mike and Sue will head to Worcester, clad with Visine and Theratear. The other day, I was at work and I emailed Sue that we should have a mother/ daughter weekend in Boston. Ten minutes later, she’s emailing me the reservation confirmation.

Whether it’s booking hotels, meeting women friends for lunch at Café Bravo, reading for her book club or gathering donations for Goodwill, Sue keeps busy. The other day, Mike was getting ready for work, only to discover half his ties were missing. Sue decided that since Mike was semiretired, that a full formal wardrobe was unnecessary. I thought it would have been better if Dad was informed.

There’s never a dull moment when Mom’s around I cannot wait for our girls’ weekend in Boston. Since our birthdays coincide with the plans, we will celebrate then. Sue will have her cake, and eat it, too!

Rachel Allison Eisner is a writer and former New Haven resident.