Parts of the Whole

Sunday, May 8, 2011

I brought you into this world...

Today, Husband was incredibly thoughtful and sent me a text saying "Happy Mom's Day." Even though they're only fur kids, the girls have kept me on my toes with potty training, putting things in their mouths, temper tantrums. In fact, while driving to the dog park, I think I've heard myself say, "Don't make me come back there!" Sometimes I wonder why we didn't just get a guinea pig in the first place.

I think there were probably days during her childrens' childhoods when my mother thought, I should've stopped with one. If one child wasn't breaking another's leg in two places, the third was getting tickets for not wearing his seatbelt. If one wasn't wrecking her first car, another was joining the air force at 17. Basically, if it wasn't one kid, it was another. There were terrible grades, bad choices in dating and sports related injuries. Each kid's birthday celebrated was one step closer to freedom.

At eight years old, I was sledding of shed roofs and riding my bike through rose bushes. Sometimes, I fell in the creek in subarctic temperatures. I fought with my brothers and began to secretly hate chicken cacciatore. Junior high started a new school AND bodily self loathing. High school was just as rough, especially when my grades failed or I failed to communicate my location to my parents. When I graduated, I'm pretty sure my mom was skipping in the streets. I know I was.

As big a screw up as I was, I NEVER felt like my parents weren't behind me 110%. Sure, bad choices were made (and subsequently blocked from memory), voices were raised, doors were slammed. A little while later, though, mom could be found sitting on the couch with her newspaper and if you put your head under her arm, she'd say, "you know I'm right," you'd sigh and say yes. Then she'd ask you to get her a glass of ice water (ice water was my mom's vodka) and everything was right with the world again. That was it. End of story. Once you'd made up with mom, you were golden, because dad, well dad had already forgotten and wanted to know if you wanted to watch golf with him. Dad was ready to buy you pizza and give you chocolate cake. Dad was THE man.

Now as a wife and domestic failure, I totally understand why mom was such a hardass. I'm just like her. Apparently stubbornness is encoded into my X chromosome. Stubbornness and great legs. Stubbornness, great legs and the desire to eat my body weight in chocolate.

(Happy Mother's Day Momma! Sorry I robbed you of your body, sanity and ability to sleep soundly)