"Hi, it's Mom..."

There must be some kind of mom-alarm that goes off in their mind the second you are in class, telling them that it is a great time to call you. They progress to leave you a voicemail saying "I know you are in class but...." or text you asking why you didn't pick up. I am no fan of voicemails, and have been the student with the ringing phone in the bottom of my backpack a few too many times. There is something totally humiliating about having Taylor Swift singing your ringtone as the entire class watches you search for your phone, when ends up being in your pocket instead of your bag.

Moms, as is their job, do their fair share of humiliating us throughout our lifetime. Usually by the time we move out it slows down a bit; the excessive: Where are you going? Who are you going with? When will you be home? Are you wearing a jacket? Have you eaten six meals? comes to a close as they settle for harassing you mostly on Saturday mornings at eight am after a night out.

After three months living with Tete (my Spanish mom's name of preference that I definitely didn't figure out until two weeks before Christmas) I am used to the jacket demands and the excessive feeding. I thought it was a little overbaring, coming from a particularly laid back family, but remember that I am just her temporary daughter...

Friday night she picked me up from the airport. I had called her telling her I should be in around six thirty, and when the captain of my flight said "Incase you didn't notice, we are experiencing extreme turbulance and can't land.... so...... we are going to circle around then then try to land again.... hopefully that works." I was terrified not for my life, like the screaming and crying woman next to me, but for the wrath that would be Tete when I didn't land on time. I could just see her fretting around, calling the police probably and wondering if I had been abducted by a UFO, Osama Bin Laden, or a child molestor. It was highly reassuring to know the modern day Einstein was our pilot; his very high observation skills and articulate abilities really set my mind at ease knowing that... uhm...... hopefully we would.... you know... land.

The thirty minute delayed arrival set Tete into a storm of worrying. We arrived home following another of her near death car driving experiences. If there is a person walking on the sidewalk on the right, she will swerve into the left lane to avoid hitting them on the sidewalk, regardless of the oncoming traffic. Tete immediately progressed to call her son to ask him if her granddaughter could stay the night. After two calls to his house, she resorted to his cell- another fail. Then his office, in case, you know, he was putting in some late hours on a Friday night. Then his wife's cell- still no answer. Then she started getting very upset, because they weren't answering any of their phones. The fact that they have three children all under the age of 10 didn't seem to be a valid probability as to why they wouldn't be picking up. So she progressed to call her son's wife's sister, just to check if they were there. Then she called her other three children asking if they knew where their brother was. When his friend didn't know either, I was fairly sure she was going to resort to putting out an Amber Alert for her 42 year old son.

When she had exhausted all options and put the phone down, it immediately rang. Alfonzo had spent the last half hour attempting to call her, and was sure that an emergency had occured spurring her frantic calling. One might think that, after 42 years of being Tete's son, he would know by now that emergencies usually involve a lack of milk in the fridge or wanting to babysit.

So now it is Sunday and having exhausted my ability for shop-therapy yesterday and my beach reading, I am probably going to spend the entire day in bed. Yesterday's mission for rainboots went so well that it inspired me to also brave two more stores and buy an extra pair of sneakers. After learning that every single rainboot in Seville was a size 36 and not a 38, the fact that the first store I went into in Santander had the knockoff Hunter boots that I wanted and also had my size inspired great shopping motivation. It was slightly horrifying. Thus, I am also horrified to look at my bank account and am determined that I will only purchase things that are totally necessary. While two sundresses will be fabulous in the summer, I am still left with three sweaters to get me through the next three months of rain and wind. And I am afraid that my motivation yesterday has exhausted any shopping tolerance I might have for the next three months, meaning that I will likely freeze to death and turn into a large human popcicle. Hopefully one of the lime flavor.