Sunday, April 13, 2008

The Reason I Must Never Forget Mother's Day Like Ever

If you asked my mother what I was like as a child, she would tell you I was a pretty easy baby and well-behaved child. Such a welcome reprieve from that hurricane that was and still is my troubled but much beloved brother, BJ. Except for the fact that I hardly ever slept, or that I would often, not so calmly, try to convince my mother that I didn’t know how to pick up my toys or hang up my clothes so I shouldn’t be made to do so. Which of course wasn’t that case, but to a fit throwing child this seemed like perfect logic.

But I’m often reminded of something that happened on a quiet Monday morning when school was out and my mother was home. I was watching Allegra’s window. Does anyone remember that show? It was on Nick Jr, and now looking back Allegra sort of looked like a mini-Medusa. But I digress.

I might have been bored or just feeling slightly mischievous, when I decided to pull what I believed to be a funny prank on my mother. She was sitting at the kitchen table, facing the wall, reading the newspaper, and drinking a cup of coffee. I got it in my little head that it would be HILARIOUS to sneak up on my mother and hit her over the head with a pillow. And that is exactly what I did. I’m amazed she didn’t hear me coming. I’ve always dragged my feet as I walk, and people can head me coming from a half a mile away. Plus I’m clumsy, and clumsy people by nature or not good at sneaking around. Which is the main reason I’m in college, and not doing what I always wanted to do-live a life of crime. That would be so much simpler than college.

I did hit her. Hard. And I heard a very loud cracking sound. Just as I did this, my mother took a sip of coffee and I managed to crack open her front tooth . I don’t believe I have ever seen my mother in so much pain or so mad. Well, not until that whole crashing the car incident when I was fifteen. *cough*

She yelled and cussed. Which my mother never cusses. And I was a sensitive child, one that even the slightest raising of the voice made me feel that my world was coming to and end and that I had lost my mother’s love forever (yes I was THAT dramatic even then). I walked back to my bedroom, opened my closet door, emptied all the toys out of my toy box, shut the closet door, climbed in the box, and shut the lid. That is where my mother found me, and she still feels guilty about that today. But really I’m the one who should feel bad, being that she still has problems with that tooth to this day. And this is what happens when good girls go bad.

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