Sometimes there are no words. Sometimes there is no time. Sometimes there is no courage. Sometimes there is no reason.
Oh my. I am in between emotional stages, it seems. Happiness, relief, joy, exasperation, and frustration. Who wants to read a diary post? Not me.
To get the disclaimers ready, Mom this is not about you. It will be tongue in cheek and funny and pi$$ed off. So do not call or text me some drama and then try to add deep dark meanings. If you find something humorous, laugh. If you learn something, sigh with satisfaction. If you get angry, start your own blog. To borrow the sarcastic words of “The Princess” without the edge, “Leave me alone about it.”
This is a “Princess” Post. She needs a lecture and will not sit down long enough to hear me out. As she says so crisply, “We get along better when we are not in the same room. Text works best, 140 characters too generous. Hurry up and leave me alone.” Boy, I am sure this is going to singe her skinny white jeans with the label, but pushing my good Southern Charm has its liabilities. Ain’t that what parents are for to teach liabilities and limits? I’ve got some limits that need to be expounded on and I am against paddling and such. So, I thought I’d do what I do best, put it out there with a little humor and insight and see how it flies.
Talk about the definition of Brave, I am taking on a rattlesnake with this one but I am going to start with a few ideas about how to get along with your Dear Old Mom. First… “Yes, Ma’am” still determines who gets in the best schools and best sororities, despite how that Google Chick Sheryl preached in her bossybutt book, “Lean In.” A good “Yes, Ma’am” while leaning in to say just about anything gets you points. I’ve seen Junior League ladies say, “Yes, Ma’am, she has hooters made of plastic but her recipe for pimento cheese would make that computer-typing Monkey at Atlanta’s Yerkes National Primate Research Center write a dissertation in two-line rhyming couplets. ” Now that is how you network on a professional level. Take that Ms. Sheryl. I do not take well to someone pontificating on having it all. I bet Ms. Sheryl doesn’t have a teenager like mine who considers “Breakfast of Champions” a cheerio cereal bar and a San Pelagreo… or how ever you spell it. None the less, I bet my teenager could make Ms Sheryl ‘lean on in’ and grab a tissue if “The Princess” told her story about her awful Mommie who yelled at her brother when she was five. Really? You remember that, Princess? Well, here is a little update for you, you must have learned the lesson because I haven’t seen you pitch a glass of sweetened iced tea from the kitchen door all the way to the sink and make a mess that only Noah in the Ark has experienced. Yeah, I did scream at your brother. You want to “lean in” while I tell you a few more tales of astonishment in all it takes to raise a Brother who worships the ground you walk on even when you sometimes are not as nice as you could be to him? Don’t start repeating that tired old sayin’,” Awh, you love him more than you do me.” What has love got to do with it? Your Dad and I am busting our guts to make sure you kids make successful, productive taxpayers; we don’t have time for love, we are working are osteoarthritic knee joints to oblivion so we can get knee replacement surgery before we need new hips and have to start paying for the college of your dreams. Just the other day, I took in laundry so I could get my hair colored. Oops, that was your laundry that ended up all neatly thrown all over your “Princess Thrown Room.” Yeah, I don’t recall getting paid for the effort or getting my hair tinting. But I sewed up the chiffon bow that fell off your striped shirt that you love to wear with the white skinny jeans. No need to thank your Dear Old Mom, a good , “I hate this place,” will do fine. I love to hear how you have suffered and all your friend’s Moms are their best friends. Look, I am trying to make sure you can make it on your own, I don’t need any more friends. The ones I have take more than enough of my time bragging on their kids. One of my closest friends, who I might sometimes choose to paddle my canoe of life while I sit back and rest, if I happen to be in a bind, spent many hours upset over how the Washington National’s Baseball Organization just dumped her son and now he is playing in Sunny Southern California. Nice way to get dumped if you ask me. I could hit a baseball or throw a baseball for a few hundred thousand dollars. Lean In and I’ll tell you about the time I hit an armadillo with a Pier One Autumn-scented candle. (photos prove it in an earlier blog post for those that missed it) Yes, Ma’am, completely true.
Number two…Electronic devices are a pet peeve of mine. Princess, you better get that lesson learned or I will start texting, messaging or sending your electronic Manti Te’o boyfriend in Texas my wish list for a Son-in-Law. Something tells me he’d dump you faster than Manti Te’o did his electronified- girlfriend-hoaxananny. I am tired of telling you to put that phone down, turnoff that iPod and close down the computer. Your hearing is already doomed from the volume of those earbuds. What more proof do you need than last week, when we called you to come downstairs so we could buy you a brand new Mercedes with GPS and all the latest electronics and you couldn’t hear us? Sorry, Baby Darlin’ that offer is expired. ( Shhhh, don’t tell her but I was exaggerating.) She won’t see this since she probable closed down the computer to save electricity paragraphs ago. The Princess doesn’t like stories which have Mom lessons included. She would rather have candy.
Number three…Show some respect around here. Aretha had it right when she said…R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Tell you what it means to me. It means smiling politely even when you want to give me the stink eye. It means not having the last word, even when you think you own the argument. It means when we are out of your sight, you smile and brag on us to your friends. It means you understand we love you and are MORE than your Best FRIEND. It means no matter how much you hate it, eating the food we prepare because it is healthy is a good thing. It means sitting quietly with us watching Downton Abbey seasons one, two and three videos or jogging with us at the park because you know WE need the exercise not the other way around. It means staying calm when we say we love you. Respect means noticing that you can be the last one to get some new item of clothing in the family, waiting until your Dad gets new dress shirts. The man wears his until the cuff bans have frayed and repaired at least once at the Magic Touch Cleaners (They really do have a magic seamstress there if you are in the need for clothing repairs. She is so magic, I have never seen her, but not everyone can put a two-way zipper in your favorite sweat shirt and only charge $4.50.) Respect is taking care of the things we give you. Respect is being kind, always. We know we are not the focus of your life right now but we are valuable enough for you to acknowledge that we exist. Respect is not holding on to false ideals about the powers of parents. Respect is accepting the things we say. Respect is trying to be the greatest person you can be and understanding we are trying to be the greatest parents we can be.
Number Four… Dad says he has no interest in being your matchmaker. I on the other hand, think I am perfect for the job. I chose the greatest man ever to love because he loved me first. That’s right , HE LOVED ME FIRST. Yes, Ma’am. He put me first. He still does. I learned from him. He is amazing and the most wonderful , supportive, fan I could ever have. In turn, I am his biggest fan. My wish for you, and your brother, is to find your one true love. Trust me, it is never the first one. It might not even be the second or third one but it is the one that respects the greatness you possess. It will be the person that loves the people who love you.
Mother’s Day was so last Sunday, and I loved the breakfast in bed, but sometimes, it takes more than a day to say the things that need to be said. All in all, The Princess and The Prince are my heart and joy. Lean in while I brag on them. One is in his second and a half-year of law school and is on track to graduate early and the other is an honor student in a great High School. Seems like yesterday, they were hopping out of the car saying, “Yes, Ma’am, I picked up my lunch money check. See ya, later Mom. I love you.”