Joffe: When Your Mom Learns You’re a Degenerate

Joffe: When Your Mom Learns You’re a Degenerate article feature image

Denny Medley-USA TODAY Sports

The Highlights

  • Want to feel like a degenerate? Live at home for a little bit with parents who don’t gamble on the reg.
  • Lauren Joffe’s mom knows her so well that any poutiness is met with inquiries about which bets she lost.

Sunday is Mother’s Day, and since I’m home, I plan on spending it with my mom. Well, actually, I plan on spending it watching the Cavs-Celtics game before a nightcap of Caps-Lightning. A few years ago this would have caused my mom to be upset, my dad to yell at me and tell me I’m a bad daughter, and me to spend the evening stewing and checking my phone incessantly. But I think I’ve finally broken them.

Living at home with parents who don’t gamble on the reg has a way of making you really feel like a degenerate. Trust me.

In the past few months my mother has walked into the room on no less than three occasions and said the following:

“Women’s basketball?? You must be desperate.”

“Golf? Wow, you’re really desperate.”

“Car racing??!!??”

With the exception of women’s hoops I wasn’t doing anything different than I’ve been doing.

Thankfully (sadly) my mom and family are learning.

It’s to the point now where if I have even the slightest pout on my face, the first question my mom asks is: “Which bet did you lose?” Ninety percent of the time she gets a look of defeat; the other 10% I say “OMG why do you think all I do is gamble?!” Yes, I see the problem with that last statement.

A couple years ago I was driving cross-country with my mom (I’m a good daughter), and I had a fantasy football draft. I don’t think my mom was prepared for the panic that ensued when we were a half-hour out of Memphis and a half-hour away from said draft. I was losing my mind and on the verge of tears, cursing everyone and everything. Somehow we made it to a hotel and my first and only request to the front desk was “what’s the WiFi password.” OK, that’s a lie. My second request was to my mom: “Bar. Wine. ASAP.” Me being in panic mode about a bet/fantasy isn’t actually that rare, but it was rare enough to her at the time that I heard her say this to a friend on the DL: “Well we had to get here because Lauren had some sports thing to do and nearly had a heart attack. I think she’s crazy.”

A few years back, my parents were dead-set on having a nice family dinner with all of us. Problem was, a game I bet was happening at the same time, so I did what any reasonable person would do: I snuck into the dining room before everyone sat down and placed my iPad under the table. Things were going just fine until my damn nephew called me out and yelled “HOW COME AUNTIE LAUREN GETS TO WATCH HER IPAD?!” My mother looked so disappointed that I actually turned it off. Cut to now and not only have my parents given up looking disappointed, they’ve given up on me going out to dinner at any place where there isn’t a TV.

Not to brag, but my mom did a pretty good job of raising me, all things considered. Perhaps I’ll give her a nice Mother’s Day present and not bet on Sunday. Just kidding … it’s the playoffs. Sheesh.