Tell me what you really think of me

Each weekend I call my mom. She is at home in the midwest, enjoying retirement with my dad, who routinely asks her questions as she chats with me. I can't usually hear what he is saying, but she answers him, and it sounds like this:
Mom: "And then Mary was driving down----what?! I don't know! Look in the drawer! God!
Anyway, she had that brand new car, so......"
or this:
Mom: "Well we have just had so many beans out of the garden, all---"I told you, I'm on the phone! No, it isn't lunchtime! You'd think he could let me finish a conversation for once. But our tomatoes aren't doing all that good."
Today, it went like this:
Mom: "So we had a really nice time at Susan's wedding. Your sister was starving. And nobody had anything---I'm talking to your daughter! .....The old one!"

I guess it could be worse. I could be the retarded one.