Happy Mother's Day

This may come as quite a shock to people, but I am not perfect and I was not a perfect mother. I get lost in a brown paper bag so when I had to drive to Indianapolis the first time, I had no idea where I was going or how to get there. With my daughter in the front seat (about thirteen or so at the time) and my ten year old son in the backseat, I almost lost my mind trying to find the exit of the hotel that night. When I snapped off the radio (why did I think complete silence would give me any better sense of direction? It wasn’t like the night wind would whisper to me.) After yelling that I was just going to turn around RIGHT THAT MINUTE and we would just have to miss that damn soccer tournament because who could find a hotel in the DARK, after all? That was when my daughter piped up, “Take the next exit. There is the hotel – RIGHT THERE. See?”

I can count the number of times I was late picking my son up at high school but goodness, each of my offspring swear it happened every day. Okay, I actually did forget once or twice, but come on, they could have gone to the office and used the phone to help a poor mom out, couldn’t they? To my defense, I was no longer teaching and when running a Section 8 property, sometimes weird stuff happens to push out all thoughts of ordinary living of my mind.

Once, my daughter accidentally locked herself in the downstairs bathroom. I couldn’t get her out. I called a neighbor who couldn’t get her out either. I was considering just breaking the window and pulling her out, when the neighbor called his friend, and they eventually removed the doorknob and we could open the door. From that point on, for the next five years or so, I would yell down to whoever was going to that bathroom, “Remember, don’t lock the door!” (I had an unnatural fear someone would not be able to escape the bathroom again.)

Not to mention, the time my daughter was out with her friends. She had taken my car and I had fallen asleep on the couch downstairs. I woke up just as she was tiptoeing through the living room. “What are you doing?” I asked when she reappeared a moment later carrying a flashlight. I have to go back. I lost the car keys while we were sledding.”

Did I hear that right? “Whaaat???? You lost MY CAR KEYS???? In all that snow?” WWIII was just about to erupt, not because the keys were lost, but because my daughter had the audacity to say, “Well, gosh Mom, why aren’t you asleep? If you were asleep, like normal mothers, then you would never have even known.”

I gave up on being the perfect mother. I made too many mistakes. I’m hoping to make it up when I become the perfect grandmother though … someday. Not any time soon, I’m told. But there’s always hope.