The Bearded Iris

A Recalcitrant Wife and Mother Tells All

Jam on Your Mother’s Day Gift Giving!

I hardly ever do product reviews or giveaways.

Actually, I’ve never done a product review or giveaway.

And I’ve been blogging for nearly 4 years, so that’s a lot of free shit I’ve turned down.

Nothing against bloggers who do these things on a regular basis, it’s just not my thang. For starters, I’m pretty lazy. Secondly, I’m in a life-or-death battle against clutter; the last thing I need is MORE stuff in my house to sample and review. And thirdly, I am very picky. Honestly, for my first sponsored review, I am holding out for something epic like a Showcase Showdown prize package on The Price is Right. (Wish me luck.)

Sure, I’ve named a few products out of the goodness of my heart over the past few years that I love, like thisthis, and this. And there was that one time I accidentally offered free sex in exchange for some unbroken taco shells. Actually, I got some coupons out of that hot mess, so that was cool. (Hi Jeff. Call me.)

Also, one time? (At Band Camp?) Because I was naive? And didn’t realize it was a slimy thing to do? I let some guy slip his link into one of my old posts for 50 bucks. It felt as dirty as it sounds. Oh well, live and learn.

But I’m getting to the point in my blogging career where I’d like to try different kinds of writing and maybe even eventually earn some fun money to support my addiction-du-jour.

So today, I’m going to attempt my first ever product review and giveaway! I’m doing it for a friend, fo’ free, because I need the practice, I love her, and she’s willing to be my guinea pig.

Meet Emily.

Isn’t she lovely?

She’s really funny too. If you follow her on Twitter, you already know this.

Emily makes jam.

But this is not your grandma’s jam. Oh no no no.

Emily has her own company called Emily G’s Jam of Love. She makes badass jams, sauces, and seasonings.

Jalapeño Raspberry and Strawberry Chipotle are my two favorites so far.

I like to serve the Strawberry Chipotle over a brick of softened cream cheese with crackers for an easy appetizer that is slap-yo-baby-good.

And you haven’t really lived until you’ve tried a Brie Quesadilla with Jalapeño Raspberry jam.

Emily sells her unique jams at retail locations all over the USA. She also partners with chefs and restaurants who want to use Jam of Love in their menus. Because FYI, jam isn’t just for PB&J sandwiches anymore! (*eye roll and tch-sound*)

With just a few basic ingredients, you can turn one of Emily’s jams into a sophisticated sauce that will liven up any dish. And she’s got a whole page of recipes and cheese pairings to make it easy for you.

Twice now, I’ve made Emily’s Salmon with Wine and Mustard recipe. As if a jam made with Cabernet Sauvignon could be anything BUT lick-the-plate worthy. This is my new go-to salmon dish…so easy, but so gooooooood. Even Bucket Head gobbled it up, and he tends to only eat paste-colored foods as a general rule.

Emily G's Salmon with Wine and Mustard, served with roasted broccoli and rice.

Check out the professional grill marks. My husband rocks.

So get this. Emily has offered to send one of my readers a custom gift box of three full-sized jams! Look how pretty:

This lovely gift box is valued at $29.99 and would make a fabulous Mother’s Day gift! Emily will even ship it directly to whomever you’d like, including a card if it’s a gift.

To enter the giveaway, just leave me a comment below (one comment per person, please). If it were any easier, you’d need a washcloth and a cigarette afterward.

And let’s make it interesting, m’kay? I want your comment to include a line about a time that your mom helped you out of a jam. (See what I did there?) If you can’t think of anything (for whatever reason)…

…you can tell us of a way that someone else helped you out of a jam.

Okay fine, just tell us about a jam, any jam. Keep it clean. Kidding. Go for it. Whatever.

I’ll start.

My mom sent her boyfriend to get my car out of an icy ditch before the cops could arrive and discover I was an underage driver.

That’s a true story, by the way. My mom’s boyfriend eventually became my step father, and the two of them have been regularly helping me out of jams for the past 27 years.

Okay, your turn!

I will randomly draw a winner on Friday 5/4/12 at 12:00 EDT. I will then notify the winner via email. If said winner doesn’t respond within 72 hours to said email, I will randomly pick another winner, rinse, and repeat. Don’t make me work too hard. Emily and I have things to do, people.

Garsh, did I mention this is my first giveaway. I hope I don’t muck it up too much. Please be gentle with me.

Oh yeah, there are rules:

  • No duplicate comments.
  • No purchase necessary.
  • Void where prohibited.
  • Always wipe from front to back.
  • This giveaway is open to US Residents age 18 or older. Do you know how hard it is to ship food out of the country? It’s hard. Sorry. Get over it.

Please note, I have NOT asked you to “like” The Bearded Iris on Facebook as part of this giveaway. It is my understanding that the FTC frowns on such behavior. But it wouldn’t kill you to show people how you feel. Be a mensch. It’s two clicks. And take a sweater; you never know.

with unconditional motherly love,

-Leslie (aka Iris)

 This is not a sponsored post. I have received no compensation or goods in exchange for this review. All opinions are my own. Yes, they are real, and they are spectacular. 
 
COMMENTS ARE NOW CLOSED. 

83 Comments

  1. Any kind of jam involving peppers poured over cream cheese is something I love. and I’m over 18. I’m so over 18 I have 3 children over 18. Does being first to comment disqualify me? I am irritated at those people who comment FIRST! like it’s something they could put on their resume’.

    FIRST!? but you probably moderate so not really.

  2. My husband was at school during most of my pregnancy and we were getting ready to move to Japan, so I moved in with my parents for 6 months. After the kid was born, mom would come get her at oh-dark-thirty and keep her downstairs with them while I showered and got ready for the day. Having that hour to myself kept me sane during those first few weeks! Oh, and there was that one time that she and my dad bought my car from us after we moved to Japan so we didn’t have to go through the headache of finding a buyer.

  3. My mom once came to my rescue by picking me up at a gas station during a tornado. My car had been towed there after I got caught in the pre-tornado hail storm and my car slid off the highway. A cop came to my rescue, had my car towed, then drove me to the gas station where my car was taken. All of this under black skies, heavy rotation and hail-covered ground.

    And now, the rest of the story… I was in high school, and on my way to work a school festival. Student Council members were required to wear a costume. Long story short, I was rescued from my car by a cop who made me stand outside in the storm, on the highway, while my car was hooked up to the tow truck. My costume? A full-body chicken suit. Fully feathered head to orange talons. I was a giant chicken. The cop could NOT stop laughing. The guys at the gas station thought it was a riot. My mom walked in to get me (and pay the tow bill) and just said, “Oh, dear God.” Good times, Ma. Good times. And for the record – I rocked that chicken suit. Hard.

  4. The year I turned sixteen, my mama got me out of several car jams. One involved a smudge pot and an oil pan; the other involved collapsed road construction. My lucky (by comparison) daddy was in Viet Nam (it’s been a while since I was sixteen and yes, I am a better driver now).

  5. Elizabeth Thompson

    May 2, 2012 at 7:03 pm

    I cant think of a time right off the top of my head when my mom helped me out of a “jam”, but there is a time we role reversed and I helped her. I was 17 and my mom and dad just divorced and she was “playing the field”…. and all that implies. She had two guys in the house at the same time and I had to quickly move one out the back while she let one in the front. Luck would have it the original guy didn’t have license and no car in the drive but, I had to give him a ride home. I still give her junk about her “WILD” days and how she was burning her candle from both ends that day.

  6. I cannot resist a good jam. I don’t care what the hell I put it on. Jam is jammin’! Oh and my son wanted to know if your beard is real. Ha, we’ll keep those chinny chin chin whiskers to ourselves, shall we?

  7. Lindsay @lilloveandluck

    May 2, 2012 at 7:16 pm

    Does refunding my bank account every time I drank away my monthly food allowance in college count? It was a jam at the time.

    PS, Spicy/Fruit combos? WIN.

  8. I want that damn jam.

  9. At a loss here on that one but do love Jam…and I am sure my mother-in-law would love some too! 🙂 looks yummy

  10. It’s going to be so fun to read these comments!

    I had to call my mom to pick me up at a bar the night I found out vodka makes me violent. I politely told an award-winning female body builder that I didn’t like her hair. I’m lucky she didn’t tip me into the toilet and give me a swirly.

  11. Captain Chaos

    May 2, 2012 at 7:25 pm

    Ok, I was new to the neighborhood. I worked as a ranger and has just gotten home from work. One of the neighborhood kids came banging on the door, telling me to “come quick”!!! It turns out a snake was in his mom’s kitchen. I stomped thru her back door into her pristine kitchen with my very muddy boots, running smack dab into Mr. Slither Pants. I pointed out back, and said in my most stern voice, “get out of this kitchen”. The snake, which was probably as freaked out as the mom was, slithered out the door I just came in. 😀 I have no idea what I would have done if it had not left. I. Hate. Snakes. Those things freak me out. But no one needs to know that, right?!! If only my daughter listened as well as that snake….

  12. While I was in high school I stupidly decided to run away and skip school for a few days and when I was going to return the principal told my mother he wanted to drug test me or I would be expelled. I have never seen my mom so mad and defensive on my behalf. Hearing my mom scream “Fuck You” at that man meant so much to me. No matter how much of a mess up I could be she would always have my back. I love my mommy!!

  13. Ok, here comes the sob story. The jam I’m trying to get my mom out of right now is….duh duh dun… the big C taking over her poor body! Esthesioneuroblastoma to be exact. It’s been badest, worse, and even worser since February and I can never get her anything good. She has EVERYTHING!!! I’d like to jam her full of something new, tasty, and not horrible and crippling. So take that, and jam it! 🙂 Much love to you and yours! Also, I’m a SPED teacher so I can’t describe the jams my mom has gotten me out of because they are very bad and everyone thinks I’m good and that could jam up my career. I know you of all people understand! 🙂

  14. What a great giveaway. My Mom “indirectly” helped me out of a jam once while I was traveling to a project site 10 years ago. I had a meeting I needed to be on time for first thing one morning and I hit snooze in the hotel room and went back to sleep, not realizing I had actually turned off the alarm. I dreampt that my Mom was calling my name and that’s what woke me up. I got to the meeting on time!

  15. Christine Wachter

    May 2, 2012 at 7:40 pm

    Let’s see….my mom has always had my back….regardless of what kind of bee-hatch I was being at the time. The most memorable helping hand was helping me with my daughter after she was born. I was working an overnight shift and couldn’t get much sleep, so the few nights I had off from work, she would stay up with her so I could get some rest, and she would sometimes bring her to her store with her so I could catch a few hours of sleep before picking her up. And she now takes my daughter (who is seven now) for spring break and what not so she can spend time with her. =D

    And I must try that salmon recipe….it looks amazing!

  16. Mmmm…peanut butter and jam is my idea of quick and easy dinner!

  17. Easiest contest entry ever. My mom helps me out of a jam by not reading, nor being aware of, my blog.

    I love Emily. ‘Course, it’s a 6-pack of Mike’s night, so, Emily, take it for what it’s worth.

  18. When I was born, after hours of difficult labor, my 18-year-old mother, when asked if she wanted to hold her sweet new baby, said, “No, thank you. I just want a Coke.” And then they ate jam sandwiches? I don’t remember. I had just been born! Give me a break!

    Seriously, this jam looks amazing. Can I suggest a future slogan? “Don’t Be a Sucker and Go for the Smucker’s! This jam is for non-suckers ONLY!” It kind of trails off there at the end, but I have confidence that a campaign centered on this could really do… things, for Emily’s brand. You’re welcome!

  19. Can goats enter? I don’t remember my nanny. I can tell you how the publicist gets me out of jams all the time. I am always trying to get in the buck pen when I am a retired goat. I am not allowed in the buck pen even though my studmuffin Luke is in there. She keeps me from going where I don’t belong because she doesn’t want me to die in kidding ’cause I’m an old goat just like her.

    Does that count? I would give her the jam ’cause I am a herbivore and don’t eat jam.

  20. My mom gave me pedicures and slid that pointy silver thing under my toenails (toe jam can be pesky).

  21. I’m going to tell about a big ass jam my sister helped get me out of…she helped me get separated and then divorced from the FF (Fat F@#$er). Actually both of my sisters really supported me through all of that and even offered to help dispose of the body. Umm…did I just write that here? Y’all won’t tell, right?

  22. Well who doesn’t love her some jam? And FREE jam? I almost need a washcloth THINKING about possibly winning a blog giveaway =) While I can think of several jams I’ve gotten my own daughter out of, I am really having to think about MY Mom doing the same. Which leads me to believe that 1) By nature I was/am just a better daughter than my daughter is, or 2) she raised me better than I’m raising mine, LOL!!! I think all 3 of us rock in all of our roles

  23. My jam story. There is this blogger I follow. She blogs in several differnt places. She has my computer all jammed up with really dirty stuff. My communication skills are all jammed up as well, I blame her. End of jam story. It must be jam cause jelly don’t shake like that. Or the opposite I’m not sure. But, it sure looks good and I like free stuff, especially delivered to my door.
    Lisa/Lynn

  24. I read the rules, but I object: I am a Canadian and I will pay my own C.O.D. I am in a jam most days, which is why my nickname is Lucy (“….got some ‘splainin’ to do…”).

    My mom is one of those who could do everything, spell everything, worked outside the home most of my life, and didn’t suffer fools. Imagine how I felt having to call her and offer to pay her to go to my house and clean up and do the dishes as I had to work late and was having a dinner party. Those were the days when I was single without kids….. My mom thought this was hilarious and did this more than once.

  25. My mom constantly helps me out of jams by cleaning my house. Seriously. It’s awesome. I even enjoy the criticism of how did I let it get this dirty.

    JAM!

  26. Ok, I’m in! My mother took my daughter overnight last week. Which is sort of an ongoing jam. But we all slept, and, ironically, so did she. I look forward to her getting me out of my Maggie jams more frequently as my diminished mental capacity becomes more obvious.

  27. My mom rushing to my aide when I was hysterical bc I couldnt find my carve& was sure a maintenance worker had let my cat outside….after walking around in the heat forever found the damn cat in the house looking mildly curious as to what all the commotion was about!

  28. Normally I like to post a smartass comment, but my mom really did help me out of a jam – not completely of my own making…

    A year ago my now ex-husband decided to get back at me for divorcing him by throwing away ALL of my clothes and trash my house…I called my mom…she not only called in sick at work for three days to help me put my house back together, she also bought me new clothes, so I wouldn’t have to go naked…that totally makes all the times she bought me groceries while I was in college look like small change…

    And I’ve promised to put her in the good nursing home when she gets old…ok, I had to add at least one smartass comment…I’m just kidding…I’ll totally let her stay in my basement when she’s old… 🙂

    I guess you inspired me to be my real self because that’s not a story I’ve admitted to many people…it was way too mortifying…

  29. My mama is a saint! I gave birth to my second (and unplanned) most precious baby girl and she made a plan to fly to Texas to help with the baby and my extraordinarily unruly 2 1/2 year old son. Really, I mean unruly. If I could use a tranquilizer dart gun on him without someone calling CPS, I would. The occasion was a wonderful bonding experience for us all. Cue the damn dog. So our rescue 8 year old lab mix decided to get into something that caused a softball like swollen growth on her neck that burst just as we were fixing’ to get to the vet. See how I have adopted the local flair? We fix to do things ’round here. Well, Lord help us all. It looked like a war zone with all the blood. It didn’t help that she kept shaking her fur just like when she gets out of a bath. My mom was so awesome. She got the dog into the car. We got to the vet. Diagnosis: spider bite. Only in Texas. She paid for the vet visit. Mother Theresa has nothing on MY mom cause after a second unplanned baby, we were pretty much broke. Then she helped, ok, she cleaned all the mess at home. I love my mom. There is a special place in Heaven for her. Bring it on, Mother Theresa.

  30. I love jam. And I love this blog, so the two paired? Damn near perfect.
    My mama isn’t very touchy feely kissy, but she’s patched up my life several times. Probably the most significant of jams was when I stupidly got pregnant with my 3rd and didn’t want to get married (although I did eventually). She (and my father) bought me a small home for myself and my children. Of course, she had no qualms about telling me I told you so when I married the idiot, had a 4th baby and filed for divorced this week. so if I win the jam I’m eating it all myself.
    Ade

  31. Kristin Tlili

    May 2, 2012 at 10:11 pm

    Dear Iris, I can’t think of any “JAMS” I got my mom out of…. per say, but I can tell you of a very fun one I put her into. I was a freshman in high school, my older sister Niki was a junior. Niki kept teasing me because I did not know the meaning of “69” (I don’t think she knew either). My Mom being a pretty prudish Catholic, was not going to be my go-to on this one. So I threatened my sister that I would ask Dad. She tried to make me swear not to ask Dad, but I knew he would tell me the real deal. My Mom’s extent of talking to us about sexual things of any kind, began and ended with; “Here, put this in your underpants” as she handed me a pad the day I began my period. Thank God I had the good sense to know which way the sticky side went. I digress, needless to say Mom certainly would not explain “69” to me. I waited for just the right moment. Dinner seemed like a good time to ask, all six of us gathered round. We prayed, then I said, “Dad, what is 69?” There was a pause. Mom looked down at her food more intently than I have ever seen her, making ZERO eye contact with any of us. Dad said, “Well Kris, it is a sexual position in which two people mutually, orally gratify each other.” After a few seconds of processing, I got it. Mom never looked up. Niki and I giggled A LOT. Twenty-eight years later, I have not forgotten a word of it, which is why I can use quotes.
    After telling that story to a bunch of friends recently, I called my Dad to tell him thanks for being so cool about stuff like that. Mom answered and said, “Why do you want to talk to Dad?” I said, “You can stay on the line and find out”. So she did. When Dad got on the phone, I said, “Dad thanks for being so open and answering our questions as kids. I was just telling friends about the time I asked you what 69 was.” I called them in front of my friends and my friends could not contain their laughter. Dad and Mom both laughed, and Dad said he remembered it, Mom would not give it up, so I relentlessly bring it up trying to get her to talk. This year, I sent Mom a birthday card that had 69’s all over it. Sadly I was a year early she only turned 68 this year. So on March 5, 2013, we can all jam-up Jan Weaver’s email (especially since Mom and Dad share an email) with cards that have 69’s all over them! Love you Mom!! Happy Mother’s Day!

  32. My mother, in spite of working a second shift job, took my word that high school was killing me (bullies suck) and agreed to homeschool me for my tenth grade year. Then, to make it happen, because the school board dragged its lousy feet, she went up there and fought for me. AND when the principal said, in a taped conference, that I just needed to go to church (public school people), she sweet talked a copy of the tape and turned right around and pointed out how damaging it could be if such a statement hit the news. Oh yeah. My Momma rocks.

  33. The biggest jam my mom got me out of was her birth canal. Thank you, mom. Thank you for pushing that one time.

  34. Skinny Jean Colleen

    May 2, 2012 at 10:38 pm

    When I was a freshman in high school my ‘big sister’ at the big sister little sister dance ditched me. So a new cooler big sister adopted me and proceeded to bring me to a party and get me crazy drunk on Rainer beer (still can’t drink the stuff). Long story short, I still don’t remember how I got home, I only remember the toilet and my Mom saying “If you think you have learned your lesson (i.e. watch your liqueur honey), I won’t tell your dad”. It was always our little secret. Boy do I miss that woman.
    I usually wipe middle to front and middle to back or is that TMI?

  35. My mom is my best friend, and like her I never liked nor had the desire to fly. For work one time, my boss informed me that I needed to go to a convention in Scottdale, AZ. I did not want to go. I did not want to fly alone. I was petrified. I begged her to go with me, she told me that she would do almost anything for me, but would not travel in a plane. She hatched a plan and decided to she asked my future MIL (I was engaged to her son at the time) to go with me and told her she would pay for her whole trip just as long as her ‘baby girl’ didn’t have to fly alone for the first time. Bless her heart, I am sure my mom didn’t sleep the whole time I was gone due to worry but we made it there and back in one piece. Basically both my mom and my second mom (MIL) got me out of a jam. And I love them both!!

  36. Okay, I have no jam stories. I am sure I have some, but I would never call my mom. She was hard at work helping my other sisters get out jams. I was the “good” one. It’s okay I have been to therapy. Anyway, re-pepper jam over cream cheese is a favorite. Oh heck, I love jam. PICK ME!

  37. My mom is the absolute best. Best jam story is hard, but I’ll go for the time I missed my international flight home from New Zealand. Whole international date line thing threw me for a loop. Well, called mom in a tizzy and she suggested I take my pretty little self and teary eyes to the airline’s counter and try to get on a different flight. And you know what? It worked. Thank goodness or I might still be stuck there as an illegal immigrant. There ain’t no wading to another country from there.

  38. My husband, boyfriend at the time, had just proposed to me after a wonderful night out – complete with a zombie parade that made us late for our dinner reservation. The next day he took a turn for the worse – maybe second thoughts about getting married? I kid, I kid – but when I say the worse I mean he ended up in the CCU for a week. I couldn’t keep it together – so my mom flew up and stayed with me during the whole ordeal. Thankfully my hubs recovered and we got married six months later. If it weren’t for my mom coming up for that week I’m not sure how I would have kept it together. Thanks, mom.

    Love, Snappy

  39. “Even Bucket Head gobbled it up, and he tends to only eat paste-colored foods as a general rule” <— Ha, this rings familiar! My son once declared to me when he was 3 years old, "Mom, I only like white, cream, tan, yellow, brown, beige, and silver foods." Which, 1.) was patently untrue as he loved apples, bell peppers, watermelon, oranges & a host of other colorful foods, and 2.) really made me wonder where (and what) he'd been eating that was silver… o_0

    And now the "jam" story… When I was 16 and grounded from going anywhere after school aside from STRAIGHT HOME (and in particular, grounded from going over to my boyfriend's house), I – of course – went over to my boyfriend's house. My mom called his house several times but I refused to come to the phone. Later that evening, I had a severe allergic reaction to his boxer dogs – anaphylactic shock which would have resulted in death without my medication. And of course, I'd left my medication at home – a half hour drive away. My mom rushed my medicine over to me without any chastising aside from some mild nagging about not keeping my medicine on me at all times. And then I went home with her and wasn't even in trouble for defying her in the first place and not coming straight home. (Normally I would have been in huge trouble. I guess the fear of nearly losing your only daughter can mellow a mom out??) 🙂

    (NOW… I WANT SOME YUMMY JAM!!! 😀 THANKS!)

  40. I skipped school in high school & the school called my mom to check if I was home-this was back in the 70’s before you had to call in an absence. My mom lied & covered for me. To this day I still can’t believe she lied & said I was home & to top it off, I didn’t get in any trouble from her either. Guess she knew I needed a mental health day!

  41. One night after finishing my shift at a grocery store I had my heart set on taking home some friend chicken. But they didn’t have any! So I went home empty handed. When I got home and told Mom what had happened, she got off the couch and went to the kitchen in her pajamas to make me some home made friend chicken (because she’s from the south and can do stuff like that).

  42. First thing is that both the Strawberry Chipotle over a brick of softened cream cheese with crackers and the Brie Quesadilla with Jalapeño Raspberry jam sound YUMMY!

    Second, my “Jam” story…and I’m not making this up…Dr. Speedy R. Nutz bailed me and my best freind out of the Tijuana Jail (“La Ocho”) after we committed an unintentional international terrorist act. The entire story is available as a trilogy on my blogsite.

  43. RealMommyChron

    May 3, 2012 at 1:14 am

    One night during high school, in the tiny town next to our tiny town, I got arrested with 3 friends. It’s a long story about $1.98 of windshield washer fluid.

    My dad kindly picked my butt up from the clinker. I know, I said dad and not mum, but I’m sure she’s the one who made him come get me. I’m sure he was strongly considering letting me spend the night.

    Mums do help us out of a lot of dillys of pickles…or jams, don’t they?

  44. Rachel Fruitloop

    May 3, 2012 at 2:12 am

    My mom really supported my creativity when I was a teen. I went to a high school with a fairly strict dress code, so when it was the summer break, I dyed my hair all the crazy colours I couldn’t do during school time. The senior portraits for the yearbook were taken in the summer break, so I was pleased as punch to be sporting Alpine Green hair. My parents loved my portrait, too. When school was back in session, the doofus principal called me into his office and told me I’d have to retake the photo. I went home in tears and my mom immediately went to the school to insist that I would not be taking a new one and also called him on not looking at her face, but at her chest, while they were talking. It was awesome. He insisted that I couldn’t have my photo in the yearbook. After much back and forth and banding together with the parents of my bff (she had Rose Red hair in her portrait) and threatening to sue, the portraits were allowed in the yearbook. It felt great knowing that my parents were willing to go so far to let me express myself.

    I live in England now, but if I won this jam, I’d have it sent to my mommy in the States. 🙂

  45. Joshua "Adrian Bielski" Dendy

    May 3, 2012 at 5:24 am

    Ok, so it’s not a story of how my mom helped, or anyone helped me, but it is a harrowing tale of how I helped out a friend one December morning. Also, I decided to add flavor to the story by telling it as an epic poem, beginning In Medias Res, invocation of a muse, epithets, and divine intervention:

    Tell me O muse! Tell me of cold winter nights, of long highway excursions by foot, and of the regal Oldsmobile Calais of 1986. Tell me of the virtue of friendship, manly bonding, and trenching of muddy yards in high school tomfoolery. Tell me what happened to the young man, riding upon the wings of a great red Firebird, who traversed many miles to rescue his friend, who suffered much by lifting, and by cunning, called upon the aid of a pot-smoking Waffle House chef in his laborious task. Tell me O muse! O daughter of Jove.

    At this invocation, a thunderous fart was heard across the peaks of Olympus, and so began the tale:

    So I was asleep. It was around 1 a.m. when my phone rang. My friend Ben was on the other line. We were both hellions, so this wasn’t that out-of-the-ordinary. In my fog of haven’t-woke-up-yet, he proceeded to tell me several, several times who it was and what he needed. Apparently, he was at this place called the “West End Chevron,” a gas station about fifteen miles away, and needed me to come pick him up. Finally, I realized what was going on told him o.k..

    Those two letters launched Josh into a perilous journey to which he would vaguely remember, for he was still asleep, and he had to work opening shift. There were innumerable Sausage Biscuits to be cooked and chairs to be arranged.
    He traveled many miles along the desolate, moonlit highway before finally approaching the West End Chevron. His eyes strained to see a shadowy figure waiting for him on the bench outside the dark, slumbering store. Like the black spectre of an Edgar Allan Poe story, the figure waved Josh closer as if to forebodingly say, “It is your time, Joshua.” With reluctance, Josh pulled in and approached this monolithic, Charon-like ferryman of the planky wooden surfaces of the bench outside the Chevron’s doors. The shady figure loomed closer; Josh’s heart beat more rapidly as a singular boney, shrouded hand reached toward the door.
    It opened, and the figure spoke:

    “Shit man, cut on the heat. I been sitting out here for an hour.”

    Apparently Ben had been out doing God-knows-what and decided to do a donut in the yard of the people who had bought his mom’s house about a month earlier. She felt that they had tried to screw her over, so Ben wanted to exact revenge on their yard. Although, having lived there for seventeen years, one would figure that he would realize that his yard is a boggy mire comparable to the Rasputitsa of Russia in the fall. Ben said that he had tried and tried for around thirty minutes to get the car out of the yard to no avail, and somehow the new owners hadn’t heard. He then walked in freezing temperatures around four miles up the side of the highway after midnight, wearing a hoody, to the store where he used their pay phone. He called me, and then figured that we might be able to push the car out of the mud.

    So Josh parked his mighty chariot of firebird in the nearby trailer park so that he and Ben can walk over and try to get the Oldsmobile out of its muddy encasement. Much like Odysseus braving Hades, Josh felt the cold and methed-up gazes of local porch-smokers fall onto him as he crossed the mucky chasm between properties.

    Well, we tried for about ten minutes to get his Oldsmobile Calais out of the mud, but apparently it was in reeeaally deep. So we walked back over to the trailer park where we saw someone standing out on their porch smoking. Apparently it was a guy who we had gone to school with but had graduated a year or so earlier. His name was “Bubba,” and he had to be at the Waffle House at 5 a.m.. He was a huge guy, chugging smokes like they were going out of style: they weren’t menthol, either. So somehow the divines infused Bubba with the Christmas spirit and enlisted him into our cause amidst statements of “Man, I gotta be at Waffle House in a few hours,” and “I’m losing my buzz.” So we walked back to Ben’s car, still entombed in mud, and we all began to push it. Well, Bubba was a large person, and we managed to move the car enough to realize that it was stuck up to its axle in mud. Well, after an Olympic try, we finally gave up and walked back to the trailer park to my car and left.

    The following day Ben and his mom called and let the people know that it was his car that was stuck in their yard. The people were kind of dumb, because they believed he was just coming to visit his old house that he grew up in out of sentimentality and got stuck while turning around. Nonetheless, I saved Ben’s hide as to…well…come on….convenient store on the side of the highway at two in the morning….stuck car…trailer park, Bubba…

    And so ends the tale of friendship, manly bonding, and harrowing scary places. A tale of mud, Oldsmobiles, and giant, hairy pot-heads named Bubba who cook hashbrowns, covered and smothered, at the Waffle House.

  46. My mom found out that we were (religiously) skipping school and writing forged notes to stay out. Once I explained that we (my posse) were going downtown Pittsburgh, shopping, to the museum and having a regularly scheduled “ferris bueller days”, she told me to “let-her-know-so-she-could-cover-for-me if the school called looking for me. She didn’t want to not know and worry about where I was. It was a win win for me. “cough cough” hahaha. She eventually gave us to-do lists and my Mom knew that we were still going to graduate, so it was totally awesome of her to be the lookout for out teenage shenanigans. Now that I am a cop, it still think of that when I come across teens acting stupid. I can return the favor sometimes and help them out of a JAM instead of JAMMING them up with a criminal record for being a dumb teenager.
    Lisa Lisa and Cult JAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. lmao I just had to say that. hahahaha

    • I pray to the Holy Mother of God that you are the popo who pulls me over (and frisks me, and gently slaps me around a little) the next time I’m up to my, uh, shenanigans. Actually, could we just go ahead and get that on our calendars? You know my number. Just saying.

  47. Every time I hear “jam” and not “jelly” I think of jams – like the shorts – from the 80’s. and I had to make jams (the shorts) in 8th grade home ec. So that’s my jam story and I’m stickin’ to it. haha get it? Stickin to it!

  48. My sophomore year in college I came home for Christmas break with less than stellar grades (an F) and I was having my wisdom teeth out the day after Christmas. My parents were divorced and I had confessed my grades to my mother. On Christmas day with my dad’s family I had to confess to him. He was less than happy and threw a chair across the room at me as he was screaming. I made it back to my mom’s house and we were up bright and early the next morning to get my wisdom teeth removed. For the next 4 days she fed me pain pills so I would sleep and it would give my dad some time to cool off. Drugging your kid qualifies as helping them out of a jam right???

  49. Connie Corey

    May 3, 2012 at 9:31 am

    My Mom (RIP) got me out of so many jams in high school – details of which I do not remember, probably to protect the innocent!

  50. To this day I don’t know what she said, but my mother once got an over aggressive ex-boyfriend/stalker to stop calling. It musta been good- I had already threatened police action, declared myself a lesbian (not true), and had my BIG cousin pay a visit- all to no avail.
    BTW- I Looooove me some jam! I’ll even share with my momma!

  51. My jam requires much explanation. You see, I live and work at a storage facility. (We’re on site managers—don’t get too excited, it’s a really boring existence.) Anyhoo, one day, about 10 minutes after my husband left for work, I managed to lock myself out. Every door was locked tighter than Fort Knox, and my cell phone was on the OTHER side of those doors. No way to call the hubby so he could turn around and let me in. So, I did what I thought was necessary—started trying to break in through a window. Only problem—they’re really high. And I’m really short. So I pulled my golfcart (yes, I have a golfcart. Again, not as glamorous as it all sounds.) around to the only window with direct access to my living room. I managed to pop the screen out with minimal damage, and then began the wriggle of shame through the window frame. Fortunately, about the time I realized that I was going to break my neck while falling through the window onto my floor, my Daddy arrived for a surprise visit. With his set of extra keys.

    He still tells the story of “Abby’s ass hanging out of the window” at all major holiday meals.

    PS: I like jam better than Joey Tribianni. Just sayin’.

  52. My mama helps me out of jams weekly. Like when I want to stay a happy hour a little later so she picks up my kids from daycare, or when I’m at home cooking dinner and REALLY need a bottle of wine (for the recipe of course!) so she’ll drop one by on her way home from work. It’s why you keep your family close! I wouldn’t have it any other way 🙂

  53. My mom stood by patiently for a few years while I was with a bad boyfriend. Finally she had a long conversation with me about him and made me see how evil he was. Thanks goodness!!

    And yeah for the give-away

  54. I forgot about an assignment for a class in graduate school, until I got an incomplete on my grades over Christmas break. My mom drove me 5 hours back to school to get the assignment and make the simple phone call required to complet the assignment. We spent the night at my apartment, then drove right back. By the time I got back from break, my incomplete had changed to an A-.

  55. My mama’s the best! I can always count on her, in any jam, but most recently it’s babysitting jams. If I flake and forget to find a sitter for a night when hubby and I both have to work and even if it’s the eleventh hour, she will hop in the car and drive 45 minutes to save my YKW. Love my mama!

  56. MY momma just helped save me on this past Sunday. You see my oldest son was being confirmed and of course there was chaos to get myself and two younger children and ALL my siblings and their children out of the house and to church for a good seat. Being that my husband and I are struggling to fix up our house, aka WHITE TRASH FROM SOUTH DAKOTA…we have duct tape in the door jam for when that bathroom door occassionaly locks. Here’s where it gets good. Of ALL days, 2 minutes from leave time and actually 15 minutes past when I wanted to be in church…I am combing the youngest’s blond locks and the 2 of us get locked in the bathroom. There’s that little tell tale sign of rolled duct tape on the floor. I am screaming the F bomb over and over while the 5 year old is holding his hands over his ears, near tears and saying I dont want to be stuck in here! Finally I call to the MOMMA to save the day, she brings the ladder round to the window and saves the squirt and me and we make it to church AND get a front row seat! Thanks MOMMA JOY for saving my arse constantly!

  57. It’s difficult to think of a time in my life when Mom wasn’t getting me out of jams. I owe that woman big time! Back in the ol’ days, she was the queen of last-minute homework help (coloring pictures, going to Pamida to get poster supplies, suggesting “sources” for research papers…). A few years ago, when I was single gal on a particularly horrible weekend trip with my feuding married friends, she called ahead to the hotel & reserved (and paid for!) a separate room for me so I could escape the incessant nastiness. And just last month, she and my sister came to the rescue the night before my daughter’s birthday party, cleaning, decorating, and arranging my home into a presentable party venue. Mom is my hero, no doubt about it.

  58. During the last month of my pregnancy with my now six-year-old twins, I went to the doctor twice a week to have the babies heart rates monitored. The problem was, I couldn’t see my feet anymore, which made driving an issue. Since my husband was at work, my Mom would drive across town every Tuesday and Thursday, pick me up, and take me to the doctor. Now she drives across town just to give hugs and kisses to those grown-up babies. What a Mom/Grandma!

  59. I called my mom one night while I was in college at one o’clock in the morning because I was crying and stressed and just missed my mom. After she made sure I was ok, she talked to me and even though, it was in her voice a little bit, at no point did she say, “um, you do know what time it is, right?”.

  60. When I was in college, I commuted 45 minutes (one-way) and somehow forgot a paper at home (pretty important since it was the ONLY paper due in the class for the entire year) and my mom took off work at 10:00 a.m. on a Tuesday morning to use her “lunch break” to get my paper and drive it to me and then head home.

    She’s pretty awesome and done way more than that, but I figured that one’s at least decent to post 🙂

    Thanks!

  61. My mom was always great at telling me I could blame her if I didn’t want to do something when I was in high school. I’d always say “I have to ask my mom first” and if I didn’t want to go here or go there with who ever, mom just told me to say “tell them you mom said you can’t go.” That got me out of numerous jams.

  62. Miranda - your other "redneck daughter"

    May 3, 2012 at 11:37 am

    My momma let me continue to live with her when I came home knocked up at 19, so she’s super awesome! (As that whole “what-goes-around-comes-around” business would have it – my daughter is my mini clone in every way! So help me, Batman!)

  63. I have a autistic son. He’s 6. Without my mom, well … my whole life would be one, long, jam encrusted hot mess.

  64. My mom helps me out of jam’s constantly! Braces payments when we can’t make it happen, math tutoring for the kids, babysitting–you name it she does it. It is the little things that add up to a lot. So fortunate to have a mom that is such an important part of my life.

  65. I not longer have my Mom to turn to in a jam , but she was forever sliding me a few dollars to buy the stuff that we did not ” need ” ( per say ) and she even bought me a car , when mine died – yes , she bought me a car . She really was the best Momma – and she also taught me to eat Jam on pancakes and crumpets …..

  66. My Mama caught my barf…in her hands. God save the rattan rug my snooty Granny had just purchased. It stinks ’cause she’s the $#*t! 🙂

  67. Well, shit. Even I would eat salmon (wretch!) if it looked like that! Where was this rocking jam when we needed it to douse questionable protein at EBWW????

    Anyway. Jam. Jamming with mi madre. Ok, got one. When I was in HS and every bit the pasty Irish sexpot I am now (but think medium muffintop instead of extra grande), I wanted to fake and bake before the prom. I knew my dad would not approve (since he wasn’t a giant fan of cancer) but I persuaded my mama, and in the spirit of girlsjustwannahavefunandnotlooklikeCasparontheirfrackingpromnight, she let me take my fleeting chance with melanoma and didn’t tell my dad. Funny thing is, he even never noticed me going from the color of Domino Sugar to the color of an English muffin. And neither did my prom date, most likely.

    But still.

    IN Jam we trust,
    Muffintopmommy

  68. Well, if it’s that bad-ass, I’m in! (in between chemistry assignments!) And believe me, I won’t make you work hard at all!!!

    -Robin

  69. Kirsten Rachaf

    May 3, 2012 at 4:37 pm

    So, my mom has helped me out of so many JAMS over the years…..I guess the best story is where she was proactive in preventing me from getting JAMMED up to begin with. And by “jammed up”, i mean “knocked up”. You see, I was a naive teenager who had never held hands with, let alone dated a boy. When I was 18 years old I met my first boyfriend at my senior prom. No I didn’t steal him away from anyone, the girl he went with was just his friend, I swear! Anyhow, I guess that by the time I was 18 and a few months away from college I felt it was time to make up for lost time……and my mom saw the writing on the wall (or should I say the make-out sessions in the car). Since she didn’t want to be a Grandma in her 40’s, she did what any “Labor and Delivery Nurse/Mother of a Teenage Hornball Daughter” would do (at least a “Labor and Delivery Nurse/Mother of a Teenage Hornball Daughter” who worked before the days of HIPPA). She waited for “take your daughter to work day” and brought me to work one night (yes, night….didn’t I mention that she works the midnight shift?). She stuck me in a delivery room where a lovely (by lovely I mean sweaty and moaning) woman was laboring. I stood in the corner and saw it all! I heard every moan, cry and scream. I saw the crowning, the pushing out, and the cutting of the cord. It was messy, scary, and quite possibly the best birth control method in the world!! Let’s just say that not only did that boy have to wait for well over a year and a half to get a little something, but my mom was successful in her mission! No teenage mom here!!

  70. My mom came to my house every day for three months after I had a very complicated spine surgery. It made up for every annoying thing she ever said or did as I was growing up:) In fact, during this time I said to her, “You are so much less annoying then you used to be” and she said, “I was just thinking the same thing about YOU!” Happy Mother’s Day to all!

  71. I had a long, hard day…well, more long than hard. Anyway, I treated myself to a visit to your blog and I feel better already.

  72. We were expecting our first child and living in a 1 bedroom apartment. She lent me the money for a down payment on our house. The mortgage payment was less than rent and we were able to provide our child with a safe place to live. I love my mom so much. She is everything that is good and happy in the world.

  73. Good gravy there are a lot of comments around here these days. Damn famous blogger.

    Anyway, it was actually my grandmother who helped me out of a jam…she and my grandfather offered to pay for my 5th semester of college as a loan. If I made a 4.0 they said they’d forgive the debt and pay for the next one. So, after nearly screwing up my collegiate future, I ended up with 4.0s for the last four semesters of college. And an editor of the school paper. Not that you could tell with my lovely sentence structure in this comment.

    Muah. Love you Leslie.

  74. That salmon looks uh-mazing. When I serve salmon, I’m always afraid someone is going to get a fork in the eyeball fighting over the last piece.

    My mom’s pretty much awesome, but she’s a bit of a procrastinator. From her, I learned that adrenaline can fuel any last-second heroic effort, and that sliding under the wire with a pounding heart and sweaty palms is way more exciting than discipline and planning. Anyway, I wound up in a bit of a snafu when I was in 6th grade. We were assigned a paper to write – at least 10 pages long – about a civilization we had studied in history. I think we were given a month to finish it. Sadly, the day before it was due, I hadn’t even started. My mom stayed up with me ALL. NIGHT. LONG. I dictated my paper while she typed. She took me to the all-night copy place to make copies of pictures of cool civilization-y stuff. She helped me punch and bind that sucker and she recommended that I add a clear plastic cover. (Did I mention that my mom also taught me to be a perfectionist, even at 3am?) My report wound up being over 20 pages long, and I got the highest score of any student that year. Plus a massive adrenaline rush, and a really happy memory. Awww, thanks mom!

    Cheers,
    Sarah

  75. My mom helped me learn how to insert a tampon. No, not literally – because that would be really gross and disturbing, and yet you would not believe how many Google searches for that very thing bring people to my blog since I actually wrote about it last Mother’s Day, to the complete horror of my father: http://www.saidkristin.com/2011/05/mothersday/

    But figuratively-speaking, she did indeed help me learn how to insert a tampon (via a little tough love). And considering I was 14 years old at the time and scared of shoving a little cotton stick up my hoo-ha with absolutely no inkling for what a PENIS would feel like, I’d say she certainly helped me out of a jam. 😉

  76. My jam(s) always relate back to my mom. She is the best person I know and is always willing to help me out. She knew my husband and I wanted to send our son to private school but knew we couldn’t addord it. So her being the most generous person I know, offered to pay for his tutition in full for as long as he goes there, 1 year or 8, it didn’t matter. And to top it off, her and my stepdad gave my son the best 1st birthday gift ever, his college education paid in full. My son is only 3!!! What better parents/gradnparents could I ask for??

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