Remember when phones were actually attached to the wall and you had the long cord that you could stretch from room to room?  My mother had a favorite chair that she would sit in and talk to her sisters.  Having five there was always some crisis with a kid or a husband that needed killing.

When I was growing up and my mother was on the phone the rule was we were not allowed to talk to her unless the house was on fire.  If we were on fire we were supposed to stop,drop and roll and she would deal with us when she was off the phone.

I am sorry to say that sometimes we lacked the survival instinct that was needed to refrain from bugging her when she was engrossed in conversation.

First we would get the look.  You know the one where she is trying to tell you with her eyes that your are dangerously close to being on her last nerve. (I am not sure how my mother functioned neurologically speaking because she always seemed to only have one nerve left.) Sometimes that would be enough but other times we just couldn’t help ourselves.  We would say Mama just one too many times.  That is when she made the decision on whether she had the energy for a conversation with you or just wanted to kill you.

If she really wanted to keep talking she would say “Girl, hold on for a minute” and that meant she was going to have a quick come to Jesus talk with you  and go back to the phone.  If she said “Girl, let me call you back” there was a distinct possibility that you might actually get to meet Jesus that very afternoon.

While phones have changed a great deal, kids have not.  Michael will stand at the bottom of the stairs and yell for me even though I have explained to him numerous times that if I don’t answer I am on the phone or trapped under a heavy piece of furniture.  Either way he should come upstairs.

I know that I should try to remember that soon I will be able to have all the phone conversations I want surrounded by a silent house.   But for now that yelling from the downstairs is getting on my last nerve!