My mother is amazing. She is kind, she is patient- she is basically that First Corinthians bible verse that is read at every wedding.
She is not infallible, and she has made some questionable calls over the years. Some notable failures include her Stalin-esque take on Halloween, her Inability to Make a Decision, and Perms. But possibly the most remarkable, was when she threw away my ‘lovey’ (my special security blanket).
My blankie’s name was Old Faithful, and she was awesome. With her, I was Superwoman. I could leap tall buildings effortlessly, I could fly, and most importantly, I could be quiet. (For those who know me, you know this is a life long struggle. I’m trying, I swear.) I was so attached to my blankie that I even had a back up blankie that was put into rotation while Old Faithful was in the laundry. I HATED when Old Faithful got a bath because I liked her smell. In hindsight, this makes me gag, and is so incredibly gross I cannot stand it!
Sadly, I don’t remember the last time I saw OF. I do, however, remember the last time I looked for her. OF lived in my room, waiting for naptime and good night time. (Because I was a Big Girl, my time with my blankie was limited to times when I sleeping.) I started my investigation in my room, but no luck. I understood this was not a good sign, but I had an ace up my sleeve- the secret hiding place. My mother used a kitchen cabinet that was too high (or so she thought) for me to reach as the secret lair for OF. I will not go into details about how I accessed the inside of that cabinet (some things remain trade secrets to this day), but OF was not there. Still, I was not totally without hope… I was sure my mom would know where OF was. (Hopefully, she was not in the laundry.) I believed then, and I still do, that my mom knows everything (well, almost everything. I don’t think she knew I could access the secret cabinet). I tracked her down, and using my best five year old investigational skills, I inquired about OF’s whereabouts. For good measure, I even used my most polite voice, my best manners, and I threw in a cute face.
“Gone”, came the answer, like a ton of bricks.
NONONONONONOOOOOOOO. This must be a mistake!
Where could she be? And why was my mother so blase about her whereabouts?!
To be fair, when I questioned my mom about her super mean judgement call, this is what she had to say: It was not an easy decision on my part but you were in kindergarten with front teeth that were going to make an orthodontist rich.
Touche on the teeth…