I Am More Than My Children's Mother
We’ve all had that moment when we look at our parents and realize they are not just our parents, but they are people, too. This moment might have smacked you upside the head the first time you ever heard them talk about doing the deed, or perhaps it was when your uncles spiked your poor/unsuspecting Mom’s iced tea at your high school graduation party, and she *almost* didn’t make it to the ceremony the next day.
It’s moments like these that you realize the embarrassments you call parents are actually people, and not all that different from you. Mind = blown.
This got me thinking that someday my own kids are going to transform their unconditional love for me into shame by association. Right now they are young, find me to be the cat’s meow, and want to be near me all the live long day. I find this flattering, adorable, wonderful, precious, and draining all at the same time.
Yet I know my days are numbered, and one day I will wake up and they will be begging me to drop them off down the street out of fear someone would see us together. I can only hope that someday, when the storm of the teen years breaks, they’ll actually see me as a person and want to be around me again.
I thought maybe I could give them and extra nudge with some reminders that I’m not just their mom…
• As I have once learned about my own parents and my parent’s parents: You were not brought here by a stork. Do the math.
• I may be old, but I can and still will tear up the dance floor. I can’t say what I will be cutting a rug to when I’m old and gray, but I will always have a soft spot for Baby Got Back.
• The reason I have such an issue with the thought of you going to college is partially due to the fact that I once polished off a whole bottle of Hawkeye Vodka (might as well be rubbing alcohol) with a pal as we wrote our Philosophy midterm papers. What? We thought we would get all Freudian and shit, instead we got D’s. I’m pretty sure the only thing I did “right” was spell my name.
• Santa, The Toothfairy, The Easter Bunny all have the same handwriting because…
• I’m not actually “allergic” to cats and the radio didn’t stop playing Justin “Beaver” songs because he went to jail. I sometimes stretch the truth which is only acceptable in situations like this, OK?
• I hid shit from my parents, too. Newsflash: 9 out of 10 times, they found out.
• I have celeb crushes. I’m not going to discuss it here, but if you ever read my blog, you’ll see for yourself.
• Doing laundry, taking out the garbage, scrubbing toilets, making your bed, going to the doctor/dentist, algebra, etc.? I think all that stuff sucks, too.
Love, your mom.
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