Word to Your Mutha

When I see this picture, I am 9 years old. In the laundry room are all the plastic bins with clean folded clothes. I check them every few days, and take them to my room. When I say goodbye to my favorite shirt in the hamper, it quickly reappears in my bin. I wear it the next day and start the cycle over. I wonder why my little sister Niki has the name "Nicole" written on her bin.

When I see this picture it is summer on Apache Avenue. I am barefoot and golden-haired. My bedroom is in the basement. Every morning when I come upstairs I drop my head and plant it on the 2nd stair from the top, and then somersault up to the main floor to start my day. Eventually I need to plant my head on the 3rd stair from the top. During my afternoon head-plants, I finish my sequence only to discover chocolate chip cookies baking in the kitchen.

When she pulls out the cookies, they are dark golden brown. Once Mrs. Archibald next door brought us some cookies that were not dark, they were soft and chewy. I wonder why my mom bakes hers so long. Later in the day, we eat the overcooked (but not burned!) cookies with a glass of milk. We dip them and let them soak, until they break perfectly into our mouths.

Eventually I realize that you can't dunk Mrs. Archibald's cookies, so it's okay.

When I see this picture I am crossing off the job of "windexing and pledging the living room". I rub my rag all across the oversized record player made of wood. It's like a coffin for a kid. On the top is an aloe vera plant that is plump. I squeeze it, then bend it towards itself.

It breaks off! I'm afraid to tell my mom, because she waters it every week. When I get the nerve to tell her, she asks for the broken leaf so she can rub it on my skinned knee. She hugs me and tells me it's okay.

When I see this picture, I am looking confused at a workout video my mom is doing on our green shag carpet. At one point, she is sitting on the floor scuttling her back-side towards the TV. I wonder if she knows that scuttling on your bum looks dumb, but say nothing. Later I find out that she usually doesn't do the workout video because she is out walking every morning while I'm still asleep.

When I see this picture, I am browsing the mall trying to find as many cute outfits for school as possible on my school budget of $100. I am scouring the clearance racks, and biting my nails over a sweater that would cost twenty bucks. I buy a coral colored t-shirt at Copper Rivet, and follow my older sister to K-Mart to get identically colored socks to match the shirt. My mom keeps a notebook in her purse where she keeps track of all of our purchases.

I'm crossing my fingers that I can borrow my sister's clothes.

When I see this picture I am thankful. My mother delighted in me, even though she was a pageant girl and I was a tomboy. She baked me cookies, kissed my boo-boo's, washed my clothes, and asked me what boys I tango-ed with after every victory dance. Once, after years of me sleeping on the trampoline, she joined me. She was stiff the next day.

When I see this picture I hope to be as patient and happy as my mother. I hope to pray with my kids, laugh instead of scold, and to stay up late waiting for my kids to get home from their first date.

Thanks mom! Happy Mother's Day!