She's the type of person that doesn't call to make small talk or catch up on things. Its always fire/flood/famine. Last year she called to tell me some horrible news. John Doe died suddenly. I know how this must hurt you blahblahblah. I (cutting her off)said, "Ma, who the hell is that ?" Pause on the phone. "He was your Uncle Gregory's (whom I haven't seen in 30 years) wife's (whom I've never met) father (whom I've never even heard of)" But his death must have saddened me.
Mom likes to ask me if I'm happy. You know, with my life and wife and the way the world is. She'd do it every time she called but the last time I got sick of it. Told her if I didn't like something I would change it. Mom doesn't understand. Bad things are to be looked forward to. They add that needed sense of drama to an otherwise boring life dedicated to all about me.
So anyway, that's where I get it from. I try to keep it in check but hey, we are a slave to our genes.