Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Genetics Gone Awry

If you've ever had mature children,
you will know right now
that term is an oxymoron.
Meaning: A contradiction of terms.

Your own children never mature-
they just get older.
They continue to do incredibly
stupid and strange things
for the duration of their lives.

But, as a tender-hearted mom-
I just go ahead and let them.
Sometimes I just watch in stupor-
Sometimes I even contribute to the list
of unbelievable exploits they venture
to get by with.

Every family has that one kid
that always pushes the envelope
just a little farther.
One that won't mind asking for
huge amounts of money,
irrational favors,
or never give a second thought to
cashing in on age-old guilt-laden promises.

My middle child scores a bulls eye!
She is the perfect example.

She never fails to entertain me
with her bold, audacious personality.
Her brassiness can bring me to tears,
but her humor can
light up my life for days!
She is a whirlwind of contradictions
and a carousel of colorful fun.
I can't help but love her dearly.

But every day I thank God
He only gave me one like her.

She's been going through the process
of moving the past few weeks-
(the house they lived in was becoming
dangerously contaminated
with black mold).

She began trudging like slow molasses
through the packing process-
grabbing a spatula or a bed pillow
on each trip from one house
to the other-
instead of clearing it out in one fell swoop
and being done with it.

They are smarter than you- so why try
to talk sense into them?)

Just to be nice,
I offered her little things I had about the house
for her to use at the new place-
like mirrors and pictures,
frames and footstools,
curtains and throw rugs-
but she refused them all.

But last night, they came by
just to let us know that they needed a bed
and to ask if maybe they could borrow one.
Theirs was contaminated with mold
and the expense of moving
had left them too tight on money
to go out a buy a new one.

So, when she came today to borrow our extra bed,
she let me know that she would also need
a couple of pillows.
And a bed skirt.
And some shams.
With the matching comforter.
And, while she was at it, she really
could use a bedside lamp, too.

I watched her leave through the front door,
juggling bed linens and lampshades and pillows-
her attitude set as though
she was doing me a huge favor.

I suddenly saw that little girl in her again-
confident, presumptuous, and pushy-
with a laugh that can shake your insides
and a smile that can melt even her daddy's heart.

But I'll probably never see
my bed again...