When exactly did I lose my mind?
Near as I can figure, it started when I had my first child. Oh, it was not noticeable at first. I refused to talk to him in “Baby Talk,” I read to him regularly. After all, I was a cool, yet conscientious young mother. Then, my son began to grow. Basically a good child, this young man would morph into an imp in the blink of an eye. Once, I was driving along (Now remember, this was back in the day) with my Son in the front seat. As I recall I had a 78 Caprice. In any event, my sweet little man grinned at me, reached over, pulled out the keys, and threw them out the window. (Yes, you used to be able to remove the keys with the car running back then.) Now, kids do things like that often, or so I was told, and I could have dealt well with it had later that day, after finding my keys and driving home, I got out of the car and my son decided to discover if he could drive. He put the car into drive, and I chased it as it went rolling into a neighbor's yard. After a while I believe these little events begin to take its toll on Parents, particularly Mothers.
My second child came along several years later. A girl and she was much more quiet and demure than her older sibling. As my daughter grew, so did my Son, and he was now into sports, playing baseball. On several occasions he caught a line drive with his nose. The boy had broken his nose 7 times before it was all said and done. The line drive started it though. My daughter, on the other hand, was quiet, too quiet. Once I glanced out of the window to see my Son with his sister in a half nelson hold. I shouted his name. He looked up and innocently said, “I won't break her, Mom.” As my daughter grew older her primary form of communication would become shrugging her shoulders. She is 21, she still does that. That is a standard answer for just about any question I ask her. At this point, I began noticing little changes in my personality. Nothing too drastic, just a lot more “Hmph's” and, sighs, and I'm pretty sure that's when I started talking to…absolutely no one. I would just speak, out loud. I began to use phrases my Parents had used. That behavior increased as I brought yet another bundle of joy into the world several more years later.
Number 3 was a girl. She started screaming on her way out of the womb, and hasn't stopped since. (She is 14) I was going to name her Stormy, both for her character and because the night she was born there was a magnificent lightening storm. Someone talked me out of that, so instead, I named her…Katrina (Yeah, I know.) At this point, the insanity had crept from the hidden recesses of my mind and was making its way to the forefront of my behavior. Desperate to try anything to stop the child from crying, I would hold her, rock her, and make up words to songs that I knew. One that even the older kids remember is one I sang to the tune of “Rockin Robin.” My lyrics; “All of the neighbors on 27th Street love it when Katrina goes to sleep, sleep, sleep, go to sleep now.” Yep, I was well on my way to receiving a Prozac Prescription. Said child, Number 3, was definitely the demon seed. Her behavior was to the extreme. I could go on about how she got us kicked out of an apartment building because she flooded it, but I won't (You're welcome.)
Now, here I am with Grandchildren. I keep reassuring my 18 month old Grand daughter and my 6 week old Grand Son that I am crazy, but harmless. I still sing songs, but now I make up the tunes along with the lyrics. The lyrics have no reason to them at all, but the babies seem to enjoy it. That's what matters, I guess. I now use more and more of my Parent's phrases. In many ways, I have become my Parents. Every one of my Children has received the Mother's Curse (When you have children, I hope they act just like you!”) I now have the satisfaction of watching that curse in action as my oldest daughter scrambles around to chase her youngsters. I smile. It's a contented, knowing, sweet but almost sinister smile. If you have grown children, you know the smile I'm talking about.
