OH, I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE MAMA!!!

"I love you very much dad, but we've talked about this." I groaned out for the umpteenth time. "I'm not getting married now... or later, even so, stop trying to convince me, it won't work." I just didn't get it. Why the trend of trying to force women out of the house through marriage by twenty-five? I mean, men could have all the time in the world to scout the fields, and you know... uhm test the waters, but women couldn't? That was simply sexist, and my feminist tendencies seemed to have a problem with that. It wasn't like I wanted to actually scout the fields or test the waters for real, but I wanted to have the option for when I bloody felt like doing it! God! Was that so much to ask for? "AMELIA PHIDELIA NAA SHIKA WASHINGTON!!!!" I winced at the mention of my full name, dreading the scene that was about to be created. Mother always did that when she was about to go off for something I had done. The something in this case being my comment about not getting married. "WHAT IS THIS I'M HEARING ABOUT YOU NOT WANTING TO GET MARRIED? YOU'RE STILL GOING ON WITH THIS FOOLISH TALK? DON'T SAY THAT! YOU'LL SURELY GET MARRIED IN JESUS NAME!!" she barged into dad's study, pausing by the door, arms folded with a murderous look on her face. Meet Kelly Shirley Washington. My one and only dramatic queen mom. I honestly love her to bits but it's times like these that make me seriously consider selling her at the first auction I chance upon for the lowest bid. I blew air through my lips. "Mama, don't you think it's too early to be screaming down the house like this?" I asked in exasperation, but it seemed I had just doused some more gasoline on a raging inferno. "WELL, THIS IS MY HUSBAND'S HOUSE! IF YOU DON'T LIKE HOW I BEHAVE IN IT, YOU CAN ALWAYS GET YOUR OWN HUSBAND AND MOVE OUT OF THIS HOUSE." I shrugged. "Or I could just get my own apartment and move out of your husband's house." I retorted cheekily, rolling my eyes as she collapsed into the chair beside me in frustration... signs of her morphing into another character; her personal favorite... what I call the vulnerable crybaby. Dad and I watched on as she began to shed tears. Don't ask me, I don't know if they are real or not... ergo it beats me too how she's able to rapidly summon them when she needs to. "Why are you doing this Mia?" She wailed. "What have I done to deserve this? Don't you want me to be a grandmother?" I scoffed at her statement. The woman was already a grandmother for God's sake. I had three siblings; Michael, Anastasia, and Brandon, with Ana being the eldest at thirty-two and Brandon, second at thirty. I came in third at twenty-six and Mickey was fifteen years old. Ana and Brandon were both married and Ana had two kids already. Brandon's wife was also expecting, so I definitely didn't know what this woman was talking about, and I made it known to her. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mama. You already have grandchildren-" "But I want one from you too! Is that too much to ask for?" Actually, it was, but I kept my thoughts to myself, I had to if I wanted to have a chance of escaping this early meeting that had ruined my beauty sleep. I honestly knew dad didn't want anything to do with this, bless the old man... Mama made him do this, and he was just too much in love to refuse her anything. I liked that they were still going strong after so many years. Not many couples made it to almost forty years of marriage after all, especially when they had a wife this dramatic. I had lost track of what mama had been saying for the past five minutes and I knew that if she caught on, I was in deep s**t, so I nodded and mmhmmed where I deemed appropriate, desperately praying for the conclusion of this meeting, so I could go back to my beautiful king-sized bed and cozy sheets... "She's not even listening to me!" I heard Mama lament to dad as I jumped with a start. I didn't even realize I had dozed off. "Maybe we should let her go back to bed honey, she doesn't have to go to work for another three hours or so after all." Dad pleaded on my behalf, standing up to pull his wife up from the chair and engulfing her in his arms. She sighed at his touch, relaxing in his arms and throwing me a dirty look in the process, "She doesn't even do anything in this house, all she knows is sleep, sleep, sleep." "You know that's not true Mama, don't be breaking my heart like that." I grinned standing up, and putting my hands on my chest in mock hurt. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some z's to catch." I threw over my shoulder, adding a wink for extra measure as I stepped past them and headed for my room. "Let's go down to the kitchen so I can make you some tea before we go back to bed." I heard dad faintly tell her, but I didn't catch her reply, since I rounded a corner on the corridor leading to my room. I rolled my eyes... I had honestly had an overdose of the daily dosage of cuteness I could handle for the day, and I didn't think I could handle any more. Who knows, I might just die or something. I opened the door to my room... my teenage phase room with posters of boy bands and motorcycles and black and pink everywhere (which I'll absolutely tell you about later) and then collapsed on my super duper comfortable king-sized bed, almost drifting off to bed immediately, but not before setting an alarm. I didn't want to be late for work.