They always say to speak your mind. And my mom did a pretty good job of that — sometimes at our expense.

Read these three stories to find out exactly what I’m talking about…

Story 1:

Years ago we’d gone to Gay 90s, one of our favorite pizza restaurants in Pleasanton. It was either with most or all of our immediate family — I can’t quite remember. Anyway, we had finished up our meal and were walking out past the outdoor patio where a group of kids, probably high schoolers, were eating. As we were passing through one kid loudly (and unrelatedly to us) exclaimed to his friends, “Hell yes!” To which my mom interjected, “Heaven yes!”

Oh yes she did.

I remember groaning out, “Maaaaahm!” (that long, drawn out, sing-songy version of “Mom” that we’ve all uttered out of embarrassment at one point or another), probably rolling my eyes, and ducking my face away from the group of kids as we walked away. I could feel their eyes on us, stunned by my mom’s unexpected chime-in.

Story 2:

Right after I turned 16, my mom took me to the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles, for those of you non-U.S. friends/family) to take my driving test. During the days leading up to the test, I was desperately praying not to get “Scary Larry” as my driving instructor. He was known for being the most difficult instructor of all at the Pleasanton DMV and failing loads of kids in their driving tests.

When my mom and I reached the DMV and signed in, I was informed that my instructor — you guess it — would be Larry. Scary Larry.

Well, I didn’t have a choice, so I anxiously hopped into the car with Larry next to me in the passenger seat, and we did the test. When we finished, he told me — to my deep relief — that I had passed. (Okay, I may have been one point away from failing, but that’s besides the point.) I squealed with joy, thanked Scary Larry, and then tracked down my mom who’d been waiting for me and told her the great news.

After I finished up the remaining paperwork and we were on our way out, we crossed paths with Larry again. My mom approached him and casually said, “Do you know that all the kids call you Scary Larry? But my daughter didn’t find you that scary!”

Cue the same, “Maaaaahm!” eye roll, duck-and-hide reaction.

Story 3:

I wasn’t actually here for this one, but it’s something Nikhil brought up years ago and has stuck in my head since —

My mom was picking Nikhil up from middle school one day, and in pulling out of the school parking lot she made a left, which was signposted as not allowed during certain hours.

To her bad luck, a cop witnessed the illegal turn and pulled her over. According to Nikhil, the cop was pretty nice about it, explaining to my mom that there had been a number of accidents there due to people making that turn, and that’s why this turn wasn’t allowed.

Everyones hates getting tickets. And we all react in usually one of a few ways. Some of us plead with the cop, some cry, some show remorse — all hoping we’ll get out of the ticket. But the wasn’t my mom’s approach. She really hated getting tickets, and she wanted to make this clear to the cop.

Here’s how the rest of their conversation ensued.

Mom: “Why do you cops have to be so mean?!”
Cop: “Do you feel I’m being mean right now?”
Mom: “Well… you could be nice and give me a warning.”
Cop: “I’m sorry, but I feel like I’m being nice about this.”
Mom: “You know, you guys can be real bullies sometimes!”
Nikhil: [Cue “Maaaaahm!” eye roll, duck-and hide — so I’m guessing anyway]
Cop: [Writes out ticket]

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Seems like all parents cause their children embarrassment at some point — I suppose it’s called being a teenager — and my family is no exception here. The movies, TV shows, they all cover this universal theme; it’s something almost everyone can relate to.

Now that I’ve gotten older, the cool thing is that I can see more depth to what previously felt like cringeworthy moments. What I see now is that these moments are representative of my mom’s candor: She said what was on her mind. But speaking one’s mind is not an easy thing — there are so many times when I’ve wanted to say something but haven’t out of fear of judgment or repercussion. As you can see there was no fear on my mom’s part here!

These stories exemplify my mom’s spunk, moxie, boldness. Which she then channeled in a banterous, good-natured way. In all three instances, there’s a lightheartedness — even humor — to the way she expressed herself  — she wasn’t taking herself or the situation too seriously. And now as a result we can look back on these memories and laugh. I can’t help but admire the balance between the depth and the lightness apparent in these situations — it’s completely representative of my mom.

Hindsight is something. What once felt awkward and uncomfortable is today not only a source of smiles, but also of pride. The eye-rolling has now turned to admiration.