Most people consider parental liberation as one of the major perks high school graduation. I didn't. I was in no way ready to plunge into the world away from my mother and two sisters. This was not because I was chicken or broke, but because I was smart enough to realize that my personal relationships with my family, including Frank, would be enriched by spending some extra time at home. Five years extra, as a matter of fact. The center of my life has been my family, the heart and soul of which is embodied in my mother. Besides visiting family, I have never spent more than a couple of weeks away from my mother. Now, after almost 23 years of life and five years of marriage, I am finally moving out and building a home of my own.
Now that I'm finished with the calm, formal, and heart-warming introduction paragraph, I can enter the freak out phase and let you know what's really going through my mind. OH MY GOD!!! I'M MOVING OUT! WHAT AM I GONNA DO WITHOUT MY MOMMY! I'M PREGNANT AND I WANT MY MOMMY!!! AAAAHHHH!!! Okay, Kym. Get a grip. Get your wits about you before everyone thinks you're crazy.
I know, I know. For many of you the thought of spending so much time under your mothers roof is enough to make you think about jumping headfirst off of one. But for me, my Mommy is my best friend, and I truly am a little shaken up at finally leaving the nest. Don't get me wrong. I am very excited that Frank and I have a new house and are moving out. As I write, there are boxes in our room and in the front yard there is a U-Haul truck (with which Frank mowed down the mailbox). In fact, yesterday was the last night I spent sleeping as a permanent resident at home. OH MY GOODNESS! TONIGHT IS GOING TO BE THE FIRST NIGHT THAT I SPEND IN MY OWN HOME AWAY FROM MOMMY!!! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? Uuuhh, that's a no-brainer. I know what I'm going to do tonight, if you catch my drift. Tee-hee. But seriously, I'm sure all pregnant women spend a lot of time obsessing about their own childhoods and mother-daughter relationships. Please bear with me as I tell you a little about my Mommy and why she means so much to me.
My affectionate name for her is Mommy Lady, or sometimes just Lady. She's like a fireball of stoic womanhood, a pillar of strength, a maternal lioness, a black-belt kung-fu ju-jitsu ex-cop Zena warrior. That ex-cop comment is true. After she graduated high school in 1973 she enlisted in the Army and became a Military Police officer. She was stationed in Korea, and that's where the black belt came in. She can kick anyone's butt with Matrix-like precision and can do one heck of a spinning roundhouse kick. Later she was stationed in the Presidio of San Francisco where she cracked a drug ring as an undercover hooker named Sunny. She was immediately promoted, and by the time she was 22, she had developed the Juvenile Justice sector, which I believe is still in operation today. Somewhere in the middle of all of this I was born, and when some idiot sergeant told her she was a soldier first then a mother, she basically said, "Take this job and shove it." Wow!!! My mom did that for me! What a lady!
Not only can she kick butt, but also she's got the brains to match wits with any Mensa genius. She has degrees in criminal justice, sociology, and paralegal studies. She's recently set her sights on a degree in special education so she can teach emotionally and behaviorally challenged kids. Wow! What a lady! Currently she's a Child Abuse Investigator for the Department of Family and Children Services. She also handles child fatality cases. In the midst of all of her dropkicking, studying, arresting, and knee breaking, she managed to single-handedly raise three intelligent, gorgeous, and humorous daughters. Wow! What a lady! She even coaches recreation softball and basketball. It's always been her place to be a protectorate of children.
Now I'm going to have two children of my own to protect, and I wonder if I'm going to even come close to her maternal superiority. Will I have the creativity to invent stupid games like Plunger Limbo and Kick My Butt? Will I be crazy enough to put water guns in everyone's Easter Baskets and have a major in-house water fight? Will I also be the one parent at the barbeque who plays Tag with the kids? Or the one parent who sits in the audience pointing and screaming, "That's my baby!!!" Will I make it to every single basketball game, dance recital, play, and football game? Will I remember to buy my kids cards just to say, "I love you?" Will I remember to put notes and jokes in the lunchboxes and leave funny messages written on the refrigerator? Will I remember to tell funny stories about my childhood? Like how I once picked the wings off of dead flies and tried to feed them to my little sister by telling her they were raisins? Or how when I was eight I beat up this boy twice my size with my She-Ra lunchbox? What kind of Mommy Lady am I going to be, and are my kids going to love me with as much fierce devotion as I love my Mommy Lady? I just pray that God lights my way and gives me the endurance and strength I need to raise my children with all of the love that was give so lavishly to me and my sisters.
Well, with the close of this journal, I will walk out of this house as a resident for the last time and drive to my new abode, where I will begin my life away from the protective wing of my Mommy. AAAH! MOMMY!!! WHAT AM I GONNA DO? IM GONNA MISS YOU SO MUCH!!! ARE YOU STILL GONNA BUY ME TOOTHBRUSHES AND MATERNITY UNDERWEAR? Geez. Darn hormones. Get a grip, calm down, and stop crying on the keyboard, you wuss. Its not like I'm moving out of the state, or anything. After all, I only just moved down the street.
Much love, Kym