They're not fighting. They're conversating.

Yesterday, while at the office, my mom called. She likes to call me while in her car, then tell me she can't talk long because she is in her car. Anyway, I realized, once I got off the phone with her, that we have the loudest conversations, and it must bother the hell out of the chaste and hushed people I work with. I felt self-conscious for about two minutes, until I used my better judgement to decide that they could all fuck right off. But, my colleagues must think that my mother and I have the worst relationship because we "yell" at each other all the time. But really, we love each other to pieces, and we are just conversating.

When on cell phones, people talk just a bit louder because of the inherent cell phone issues, kind of like when one talks long distance. My mother and I bring this to a new level. I've always thought it was because:

1. We are both Latina. Therefore, even though we love each other, one of us has to speak the loudest. The other one loses. Now, I do not mind letting mami win, for it is my duty as daughter. I know my mother will raise hell on earth if she doesn't get her way. But sometimes, I get feisty, which is what happened yesterday.

2. We are both impatient. If she doesn't get something I say, I sigh audibly and explain. She gets all bent out of shape. Yet, if I don't get something she says, she sighs audibly and explains. BUT, we are only conversating at this point.

3. We come from a big family. My mother grew up with two brothers, and everyone knows the Latino baby is the little king of his castle. So imagine my mother trying to be sweet and girly when she has to compete with two spoiled little boys. Not happening. Now, the family has expanded in a crazy way, and I was always taught, if you see something you want, ask for it loudly. If you don't ask, you don't eat.

I am unapologetic for my volume. I don't see why I should apologize for being a product of my culture. I hate being shushed. If a man is out with me, he needs to know better than to shush me, for if he does, that's the first and last date.

As for my mother, if we STOP talking to each other, THEN there's a problem. But as long as we are yelling at each other, we're good. And I love that. So when you go to your Puerto Rican friend's house or you marry a Mexican with a huge family, do not get all upset when you are at the table and suddenly can't hear yourself think. They are not fighting. They're conversating.