A joke about shopping with mom.

Today is Mother's Day. My mother would never have thought of it.

My mother. This is a proposition for beginners in the third grade of primary school, but I still find it difficult to write.

I don't want to write about her appearance because she is not good-looking. The students in primary school are all her students, so I dare not deny them at will. But every time she came to see me at school after graduating from high school, her classmates said, judging from your appearance, I can't imagine your mother like that at all. In other words, your mother is nothing like a teacher. Unlike a teacher. Like what? I can touch half a sentence swallowed with my eyes closed.

My eyebrows, eyes, nose and mouth, there is no trace of my mother. When I was a child, when an adult praised me for my good looks, I always added, "I don't look like your mother at all." I didn't know at the time, but now I think about it, I obviously feel insulted.

I can't write her temperament either. Her career makes her good at preaching and seldom scolds us. Of the four of us, only I was beaten by her, because I refused the shredded potatoes she fried for me again and insisted on the original one. Where did the original plate go? It was eaten by my sister. But I made my sister throw up. You really should! Now I can't help laughing when I think of my childhood fatigue. Sadly, I was unwilling to accept new things since I was a child. When I was about to fly, I found that I was firmly bound by this "old".

It seems to be a good disposition not to hit people or swear words. I'd rather she slapped her face like my best friend's mother, cursed rudely, and then hugged, touched and kissed. Since I learned to walk, I have no arms to rely on my small body. When I am sick, my mother will try the temperature of my forehead with her lips, which is suspected of kissing. Being sick is an abnormal phenomenon, so there are not many such kisses. For some reason, she is difficult to get close to. Maybe a fan of the authorities. Last time she came, we took many photos of her. My husband found that the mother in each photo had a tight face and no smile, just like standing in the math lecture hall. Think back to her usual expression. Indeed, she seldom smiles, whether she smiles or not. She doesn't sulk when she is happiest, so it's hard to be called a smile. This is the answer.

Now there is some physical contact between us. When crossing the street, I couldn't help grabbing her arm and taking her away. I don't know if she took me across the street like this when I was a child. Mother's body is very strong, and the skin on her arms is a little slack, but she doesn't look old. When I am most rebellious, if I touch her hand, I will be uncomfortable for a while. Now, like a mother and daughter. But usually, we seem a little different, because we are too polite. When we communicate, I always use my hometown dialect, and she always uses Mandarin. We take care of each other in each other's language. But my hometown dialect has no context, and her Mandarin is not proficient. We were both uncomfortable, so we finally hung up after a few words.

Mom doesn't like us to say that my brother looks like my father, because she loves him very much and doesn't want him to look like a person she doesn't like. I doubt it. I didn't like my mother since I was a child, just because I look like my father. Besides, my father loves me the most and takes me everywhere. I'm afraid she doesn't like me even more 18 years old, she once told her neighbor that she can't count on me when she is old. She drew a circle for her old-age sofa very early, and there was no daughter like me in that circle.

At that time, "Blood Suspicion" was being broadcasted, and I suspected that I was not my mother's daughter. My father's classmates came home and told me that my parents had picked me up from Xinjiang. I actually took it seriously and secretly cried for a while, trying to find my biological parents. But Xinjiang is too far for me. Later, another dad's classmate joked that he had no daughter and wanted to leave me. I picked up the blue schoolbag he just gave me and was ready to leave. My mother is very sad and thinks that I have no conscience and don't love my family. She doesn't know. I thought this wasn't my home either.

Remember mom's angry words, it really shouldn't be. Besides, a family is not a political stage, but also a faction. However, my father and mother, after more than 30 years, are now over 60 years old. Water is water, fire is fire, and there is no sign of chemical reaction. Fire and water are incompatible.

So my mother has been unhappy. Although she has many reasons to be happy. Every time I go home, my neighbor's aunt says enviously, "Your mother is a happy old lady." She is lucky to have children. My brother and sister didn't worry her too much when they were growing up. We are all filial, not only filial, but also obedient. In our family, children never talk back to their parents. "Obedience is filial piety", and all our brothers and sisters insist. We can all be self-sufficient. She and her father can't even spend one tenth of their monthly pension. It's not that they have too much money, nor that they are too stingy. There is really no place to spend money. They are used to simple meals, and eating too much fish makes them uncomfortable. Outside the yard is a big pond with a large fertile open space. Throwing a watermelon seed can turn the ground green. Mother planted lettuce, loofah, pumpkin, tomato, green pepper, onion and garlic, beans and so on. She often pulls the old lady who already lives on the road and lets others take away some vegetables. There are few people at home, so it's a pity that such fresh and tender vegetables are spoiled. There seems to be nothing incomplete in life. Why can't she laugh?

The beauty of a beauty fades away day by day. But my mother looks better when she is old and dresses better than when she was young. She wore a skirt that she never wore when she was young, and a pearl necklace. We went to Xidan to date my good friend in high school. A good friend exclaimed as soon as they met, "Aunt has become beautiful." This is a rude word that we dare not say to our mother even if we are killed. My mother actually smiled and said something I never thought she would say: "The longer, the more beautiful." This answer is too feminine and beautiful. Passers-by are looking back, and I'm embarrassed. She was black, blue and gray when she was young, but now she likes clothes with big flowers. Her elder sister has been responsible for buying clothes for her. Big sister thinks mom is a little fat and dark, which is suitable for small floral clothes. After several rounds of stalemate, my mother still refused to give in. Actually, my mother is just dressing up for her mood. I think whether it looks good or not is secondary.

I graduated from college in July that year and got my first salary in August. Since then, I have never spent a penny on my mother. For more than ten years, I had to rely on my mother to provide food, clothing and tuition. My mother only provided necessities, and there were no snacks, toys and clothes outside the warm bed. I often think that my rejection of all luxury goods may be the inertia of my youth. For example, being able to answer and send is a necessity; There are high-end camera functions and popular styles, both of which are luxury goods, so I don't have to have them. The sofa is the object of sitting, the car, the means of transportation, the home, the place for washing, cooking, reading and sleeping. As long as these needs can be met, it will be happy. Since I never complained about my mother when I was a child, I should be grateful now. Enjoying luxury goods is a process of complicating simple things, similar to the n power of mathematics. Mom is a primary school teacher, only responsible for addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, so we are all very simple.

I went shopping with my mother, and I prepared some new clothes and gadgets for my two nieces along the way. Mother sighed and said, "I won't give them anything." I didn't even give you anything. " I don't want to, I don't want to, I just don't want to, I just don't have the ability to express my feelings with materials. Don't say there is no lump on your chest, even if there is, you should eliminate it.

Mother only uses salt, soy sauce, vinegar and salad oil for cooking. There used to be monosodium glutamate, because my brother didn't like it, but I stopped using it later. Every time my sister and brother-in-law go home to cook, they find it difficult to show their skills. There is no pepper, pepper, aniseed, cooking wine, chicken essence, starch and so on. And she has many backward lifestyles. We dare to talk about her now, and she listens, but she never changes. I always feel that she has no idea about anything, and all her attention is actually on her father. Her father is in front of her, which is the sand in her eyes. The clearer the sense of existence, the more uncomfortable she is. Father is not in front of her, which is a thorn in her heart. I have to see it clearly before I can rest assured.

…… ……

Stories about other people's mothers often make me want to cry. Facing my mother, I dare not cry. When I cry, her sky is afraid of rain.

No shadow, no cover.

Last night, I was awakened by the moonlight and bent over to have a look. It was a full moon, and it was so wonderful that people were stupid.

By this time, my mother must have fallen asleep. One person. Mother said that she never remembered the dreams she had at night.

I remember, but she seldom came to my dreams.

This is my mother. I love her even if she is ugly, not gentle enough and not good at cooking. Because she is my mother, my mother.