I have to admit, I was excited to see my mom’s return to writing last year. The reason for her return remains a mystery to me. Were we just that entertaining? The likely truth is that she decided to do it while sitting in our living room recliner, cuddled up with our various animals, blasting “Still D.R.E.” on our speakers. At least, that is how I envision it.
This all started in 2008, when my mom wrote the story of the Pacifier War. Ah, the cursed beginning. Still framed and hung proudly in our house for all to see. Including my brother, “Oops,” who is reminded of his former pacifier addiction each time he enters the room.
Then there are the Part II articles. My younger sister, “Not Again,” has the pleasure of being the main character of these (mostly, anyway). Of course, when I was experiencing the joys of high school, my mother had taken a hiatus from writing. Thank goodness.
Of all the children, however, I had the honor of being what my parents call the “experiment” or “guinea pig.” I have come to learn that as my siblings made and continue to make mistakes, I likely made them first. As for my mother, she likely wrote about them.
So, after all these years, why has my mother not written about her moments as a parent? After all, it is called the “Motherhood” column. And trust me, she has plenty of stories. Or at least, we do.
Since moving out, my mom has become more entertaining by the day. From greenhouse manager to dog nurse, the trips home never disappoint. The most intriguing, however, was the addition of the new cat.
“But she’s so cute,” Mom and Not Again would say to my dad.
“No more animals,” he quickly responded.
Mom: “You won’t even notice it’s here.”
Dad: “Absolutely not.”
Mom: “It needs a new home.”
Dad: “Not happening.”
Each time he said no, you could tell the annoyance of the cat-questions grew. My mother, persistent as ever, did not give up. If there was one thing she would succeed at, it was covering the absence of my recently moved-out younger brother with a much kinder, feline sibling.
The debate dragged on for months. Would the cat come home; would it stay where it was — no one truly knew. Eventually, while visiting home, the new cat had appeared inside the house.
“She is only here so they can take her to the vet,” mumbled my dad.
A line that he still uses today, a year later, during the longest veterinary appointment known to man.
Hi – Mom here. We are home from the vet, and I am now in the middle of remodeling N1’s bedroom because, clearly, he has no intention of moving back home, and the new cat needs her own space. What he failed to mention was my ability to “sell” his father on adding more pets to the family; you know, like N1’s dog. The one he had to have because the current family dog liked his younger brother better.
Anyways, I turned over this valuable space to N1 to relay his thoughts on being the muse of so many Motherhood moments. Will this continue to be a thing? The cat and I will address that question and take a vote before any additional space is allotted. Stand by…
