I wasn’t easy to raise.

I was oblivious, absent minded, dangerously curious, and constantly getting into things.  I hear the stories everytime the family gathers and wonder, “who the heck are they talking about?”  My brother likens me to the female Dennis the Menace.  I often think my mom must really be Beverly Cleary because the Romona the Pest books seem way too familiar.

If I wasn’t sticking tweezers into light sockets or overloading electrical outlets by stringing together too many Christmas lights, I was trying to be the first to reach the power lines behind the tree in our backyard.

There was a time I loved worms. I’d find them and put them in my coat pocket. My mom would find them later all crispy.

Taking kids shopping is normally a challenge and I was no different. If I wasn’t hiding in clothes racks, I was leaving my shoes in front of a display toilet where I had taken a poo.

My mom learned that new clothes shopping was senseless.  I had my favorite clothes I wore every single day regardless of the numerous other clothes hanging in my closet.

She bought me a new coat once. It was a really pretty. I gave my friends a ride around on the asphalt with it. They would sit and I would pull. We laughed so hard. But we also tore huge holes in it.

I paid a boy my lunch money to give me a kiss once. Yep, I paid a quarter for my first kiss. He lived across the street and his big brother came over to tell my parents.

When my mom found out I was hiding behind the boys bathroom door at school I am sure the names of boarding schools ran through her mind. Especially since I’d just paid a boy to kiss me.

My mom was the nurturing one, always comforting me in my illness and injuries.  I didn’t get hurt often, but when I did, she was there.

She was there when I ran a fever and started hallucinating that dancing potatoes were being tortured by toothpicks. She slept in my room when I was healing from having cut my toe off.

She was there when I stepped on a beer bottle and needed stitches.

Then I became pretty independent.  I didn’t need my mom much. But in my 30’s I discovered I had a brain tumor. It was my mom who took care of my recovery after the  brain surgery.  She let me sleep, fed me lunch, and watched Toy Story 1,2 and 3 with me.

When I had to go back to work after my daughter was born she helped me. She was there to help watch my daughter for her first 9 months.

When needed, she is always there.

Now that I have my own daughter, the fights and disagreements we had have more clarity.  I am blessed to have a daughter who is NOT oblivious nor absent minded.  She is smart and truly God’s gift.  I don’t know how I got so lucky to get off so easy because I wasn’t easy to raise.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom!!!!!