There are 2 things I desperately hope to see or better yet experience before I die. #1 my kids coming back and apologizing for all the grief they have and will give me in this growing up process; and #2 my kids coming back and thanking me for letting them live to adulthood (with minimal mental scarring). It’s true. I have a very short bucket list. I hope these things happen before I die because it would seriously irk me to be watching from a disembodied state as my kids cry (hopefully not dance) over my grave saying things like, “Why didn’t I say sorry for all the grief I caused her when I was growing up? And I really should have said thank you for letting me live to adulthood with minimal mental scarring.”
I say this because I have started to thank and apologize to my own mom. And though she snickers in a condescending way, I’d like to think she’s pleased at this act and also proud that I was humble enough to do this. It actually all started shortly after I got married. Grocery shopping with my otherwise perfect husband showed me a dark and sinister side to him; a side I had also exhibited as a pre-teen brat toward my mom.
It turns out my husband had no morals when it came to smashing bread. I would lovingly place a perfect loaf of whole wheat bread gently in the cart, giving it a protective place of honor. My husband saw it as a perfect cushion for the gallon of milk he was totting. I almost screamed in horror. My fluffy loaf of wheat goodness was now flatbread. I scowled and hissed through gritted teeth, “Do you know how hard it is to make a sandwich with misshapen bread?!?!” He just chuckled like it was no big deal. And then, at this point something strange happened. I had a sort of out of body experience. I was an awful kid and I was the one chuckling to my mom’s gritted teeth and bulging eyes. I was the culprit turning perfectly square bread into triangles. I had aggravated my mom….and I had done it on purpose….just to be a snot.
I needed to apologize. I called my mom a few weeks later and told her I was sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever heard my mom laugh that hard. I’ve called her many times since then, especially now that I have kids. I’ve apologized for being a picky eater and throwing tantrums in the store. I’ve also apologized for fighting with my brother to the point that she wanted to kick us out of a moving vehicle because, you know, I have now been down that road in her position and I’ve wanted to kick kids out of a moving vehicle. I hope my kids will remember this.
Sadly, though, I haven’t said enough thank you's. I really need to because I know that while I was growing up there were times my mom had an adoption agency on speed dial, ready to give me up to any other family but thankfully she didn’t. So here are a few things I will be thanking my mom for; first off, she let me live to adulthood, a miracle, considering how much of a pain I could be. I want to thank her for pretending to like some of my music just to avoid an argument. I would thank her for enduring a couple of my friends even though I know she was hoping to see their pictures on the back of milk cartons (with a caption underneath saying: “last seen with wandering band of Gypsies heading toward the border”). Mostly I would thank her for all the love and raising me to be a responsible loving adult. Yeah, she let me live to be an adult, but I became an honest, kind, good (although somewhat unhinged) adult because of her. So I really need to thank my mom for that.
And about my husband? Chris has since seen the light. Once we had kids and he had to start making his own lunch he saw the error of his ways. It’s really not fun to make a sandwich with squished bread….I’m still waiting for my apology.
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