Julep: Some kind of help is the kind of help...

The first time I ever went out of town as a homeowner, my own dear Julep-Mama came over to tend the plants and the cats. And when I got home, she had moved the plants (which I had chosen for specific windows) and added a ton of kitty litter to the box (which I deliberately keep on the low side so it doesn't get kicked all over the bathroom floor). J-Mama and I had a little chat in which I told her how much I appreciated her help, and gently assured her that she had raised me already and I could be trusted to make my own decisions about litter fillage and plant placement. To her ever-lasting credit, J-Mama apologized, and since has often come by to tend the house without tampering with my stuff.

Since I got married, though, the J-Mama is less likely to come and assist. You see, Mr. Julep's mama (let's call her the Mr-Mama) lives less than half a mile from Casa Julep. And the Mr-Mama has no job, while the J-Mama is fully employed. And to Mr. Julep, the Mr-Mama, and even the J-Mama, these factors add up to indicate that we should call on the Mr-Mama for household assistance more often than not. But not to me.

Here's the thing. I am fond of the Mr-Mama, with certain caveats that are surely going to be discussed here in future posts. Mr-Mama is always happy to volunteer, and always very sweet about helping. But I would really rather ask my own mother for help with things.

Case in point: when we went to New Orleans in April, Mr J's parents were tending to our dogs. When the Mr-Mama brought them home on Sunday morning, she failed to shut the front door all the way and got distracted by our new couch. One dog took the opportunity to run for freedom. Mr-Mama called us to report that the dog was out, and she herself was late for her riding lesson so she was headed off. To recap, we were ten hours away when she let our dog get out and she was just going to leave. Mr. Julep and I heard this news with utter horror. I looked Mr. Julep square in the eye and said, "I'm calling my mother. Right. Now." And the J-Mama dropped everything and went right over to our neighborhood and searched until she found our dog.

When we got the news, after our huge sighs of relief, Mr. Julep expressed his gratitude and all of his own accord observed that MY mother can be relied on, while his ... can't. Exactly.

Mr. Julep thinks I don't know that sometimes my mother drives him nuts. (Truth is, sometimes my mother drives me nuts also.) But as I occasionally tell Mr. Julep, his appreciation for the J-Mama is going to increase exponentially as time goes on. Because minding her own business, accepting correction, and being reliable are traits worth their weight in gold.