Let's just look at it again.
Regardless of man making strange face and weird cryptic arm and hand gestures...my mom has been a mom for almost 35 years. She is living proof that you never stop becoming a mom, because when I am sick and throwing up, I seriously still cry for my mom. I'm not joking.
I am also a mom. SURPRISE!!! I really didn't write all those pushing child out of my hoo-ha stories for fun. I am a mom because of my mom. I mean, yes bore me inside of her uterus so yes, without her I would not be here to be a mom. However, beyond that, she made me want to be a mom. She is so very skilled and talented at being a mom. I take full credit, I am after all the oldest, as well as her favorite, given I have provided her with three beautiful grand children. Not lying. And no, stop asking, I do not know why I look like the man in the above picture, its just a coincidence.
I am also quite certain there are two reasons as to why I am a mother to my daughter that are also in direct correlation to my mother. I was a tyrant of a child and adolescent. Was I fun? Sure. Was I loud? Of course. Was I difficult, challenging, and typically impossible? You best believe it.
My daughter. I have said before, my mom describes her as, passionate. I describe her as dramatic.
I also believe and have said before, that what goes around comes around.
I was a really awesome teenager. Ok, so maybe my mom didn't think so. But I am certain my pack of friends did, we were all really awesome...don't worry guys I will totally mention you in the acknowledgement section of my future posts about my teen years.
Here are two incidents that have come back to haunt me when I look into the eyes of my daughter I am teaching survival skills to so she becomes a functioning human being.
This one time in junior high, I was caught lying. I do not remember what it was I was lying about. I think that most lies tend to work this way. However, due to this lie I was grounded for a month. Perhaps you don't really get the great impact that might have on me and my social life. It meant that I did not get to go to my friends boy/girl birthday party that was within this month, go to a school dance, or talk on the phone, and I was pissed. After the completion of my time, I was sat down in front of my parents in a great parenting moment, and asked what I had learned from this punishment. You see now most smart children might say, 'oh well, I learned to tell the truth.' And then smile and nod, completing the pow wow. Now, I was not smart. I looked at the two of them. Without sarcasm, sass, or any negative tone said, 'nothing.' Seriously, I said the word, 'nothing.' I now realize after having children of my own, specifically my daughter, when a child says this to you, you basically want to lose your
In typical teenage fashion, I also did not like to clean my room. Go figure. This in fact, drove my mother insane. At some points, the clothing and things would be almost level with my bed, you would literally open my door, and have to step up. On occasion she would graciously clean my room. Really what she was doing was snooping and reading all my notes to and from friends because she would leave them unfolded on my bed to let me know she knows what they said. I would just fold them back up and put them in some shoebox under my bed. I would then say, if asked, 'do you know how many things I could be doing that are worse? Drugs. Cults. Birthing babies. Stealing parents cars and driving them all over town all night!?!?' Oh wait, we did totally do that one, but it totally sounded good for my argument. What they didn't know at the time couldn't hurt them.
When I did clean my room it would take all day long. I would blast Eagle 106 from my radio and be in there all day. They would play throw back music all day on Saturdays and I would totally bust a move in there. My room was the size of what is now known as an acceptable sized walk in closet, but I still managed to be such a slob. I would be in there all day. Ok, and perhaps having an imaginary dance party may have caused some procrastination. But by the time I had to meet up with friends, that joint would be sparkling. Just don't look under the bed.
You would think this might make my mom happy. You know me finally taking her threats seriously enough to clean the room every once in awhile. Nope. And so the battles ensued day in and day out about the messy bedroom.
One day I am certain she thought she was mad clever. She kept telling me that she was just going to empty my room out and throw it all over the front lawn for me to pick up. This day came. I saw the chaos before she saw me, this I am certain, as I was walking home from the bus stop. Clothing was flying out my window all over the garden and lawn below. My Mom Mom was there and she was most likely thinking my mother had lost her mind, but also most likely got some amusement out of the whole thing because I don't think the apple falls far from the tree. I remember completely prepping myself. So this is what I did. I just walked right up to the house, paying it all no mind. I walked past flying bras and panties and right into the house to grab a snack and engage in whatever it was that I did after school those days. I left it all out there. Bras hanging from limbs. Yes, this is what I did. This my friends, is why I have been gifted with Kendall. I am sure neighbors drove by wondering why there was unmentionables and socks strewn all over the front of the house, but again just like the 'your grounding didn't work,' scheme, I was again set to make it known, a thong sitting on the roof of your car has taught me nothing about cleaning my room.
I am clearly aware now, when being a mother myself, that I should have just let them be punishments. Because I now do not have the last laugh.
I don't know when I cleaned that stuff up. I know it wasn't immediate, or in the following few hours, or even that night. All irrelevant. She wanted me to be embarrassed about my stuff all over the front lawn, I made it seem as though I wasn't. This again, to a parent, is infuriating.
I do realize that things could have been worse. I am constantly talking to my friends about parenting skills and how one false move and your child is all sorts of trouble. I consider the trouble my friends and I got into as 'responsible trouble.' We were never once in trouble with the law. Except for that one time when we were pulled over after toilet papering someones car in the town we live in less then a mile from home. The officer asked us what we were doing in that certain neighborhood, and we said we were lost and not sure how to get home. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. Again, I will just remind my parents, I told you I did not learn anything about lying by being grounded for a month in 7th grade, this incident is proof. The officer just told us to go home by going left at the stop sign and drive fifty feet.
However, the reason I had some sense about me was because of my mom. I am certain I drove her mad. But I never would have turned out the way I have if not for her. That might also be considered an insult to some, but I like to think of myself as a good mom. I am going to toot that horn. I work my ass off for these kids, its the reason I don't have one. That, and my mom doesn't have an ass either. Ok, we have asses, its not some genetic malfunction, they are just like pancakes.
My mom is a perseverer. I totally know that isn't a word. She totally persevered through parenting, taking each moment as it arose. Her and I paved the parenting road my sisters got to drive on. She was simple. She was creative and clever. I have been rewarded with her being one of my closest confidants and friends. This is my motivation with Kendall, I know if I persevere and take each moment as it comes, and pave the parenting road with her as wisely as I can, she will be o.k. She will certainly have adventures and a slew of good stories, but she will be o.k.
My mom is beautiful and admirable and I love her dearly.
Again, I am not certain who the guy she has on her arm is...I think he might need some medication.
(Love you too, Dad)