I think I have a problem. A blog problem. I write more blogs than I post. For instance, I had a great blog ready to go about my adventure with nose surgery, but I never actually posted it. However, in this case, that might be a good thing. It was kind of gross.
Maybe I will have more success posting this bit of musings. I thought about recapping 2016, but everyone does that, so I’ll just read their blogs to get my yearend-rewind fix. But I have to write about something, right? How about “The Evil Thing I Did Over Christmas Break”? How does that sound?
Like a lot of people, I go home for the holidays. Texas is my home. (Yee Haw!) I’ve got a fantastic family; they are wonderful people, especially my mom. She is a deeply devout Catholic who cares more about other people than she does about herself. She’s a great lady, but she has one fault that I, like the wonderful daughter I am, exploit just for fun. Her fault is that she takes everything I say too seriously. So what else am I going to do but have some fun with it. After all, it’s Christmas and I’m the ghost of Christmas guffaws.
The harassment of my mother isn’t a new thing, so you would think she would get wise to my evil antics. In years past, I’ve teased her with outlandish religious views, oppositional political opinions, and dozens of other ideas that have made her face twist and contort in disbelief. She probably adds another 10 Hail Mary’s to her daily devotional after each of my visits. (Tip: 10 Hail Mary’s is not nearly enough)
This year, I made the profound statement, “I just don’t understand why people have kids.” You should have seen her face. I knew I had a winner and the fun began.
Mom tried so hard to convince me that people have children for a good reason. My deeply Christian mother even concocted a lie in order to convince me. Now that is serious dedication! After a series of unsuccessful attempts at convincing me my way of thinking was warped, she said,
“Karen, let me tell you a true story. There was a family who had 12 kids. Do you know who the twelfth child was? Albert Einstein,” she said with all the sincerity she could muster. She continued, “If they had not had kids, or stopped at one, then the world would have never known the greatness of Einstein.” She said this with a convincing and imploring expression. Earnestness was oozing from her pores.
Me being the ass that I am said, “So you are saying people should keep popping out kids until they get a “good one” even if the others are duds?” My mom’s jaw dropped in exasperation. Then my husband chimed in, which is always a good thing. He had been sitting at the end of the table suppressing his laughter at our crazy conversation for the past hour until he couldn’t stand it anymore and said, “Actually, Einstein had one sister and no brothers.”
I looked at my mom and said, “You lied?” I blinked a few times for dramatic emphasis and tried to look shocked. She looked away sheepishly, “Well, I was just trying to make a point.”
I’m not going to say that I won and she lost. I think we both had a good time with the subject. I might have been enjoying it a little more though. For that, I have a feeling Mom might dedicate a few more prayers for my twisted little soul, which I will gladly accept. You can never have too many prayers, especially when my mom is doing the praying.
For the record, I really do know why people have children. I think parents who want children, nurture them, and teach them how to be good human beings are some of the luckiest people in the world and so are their kids. To be responsible for another human life is an important job, a hard job and not something that should be undertaken lightly. It isn’t for everyone, especially me. I’ve never had that driving maternal instinct. I’ve actually been called selfish because of this. Perhaps that is true to some extent, or maybe I’m defective, or maybe I was meant to experience life from an alternative point-of-view. I also think it takes courage for people to recognize when they aren’t meant experience something as wonderful as parenting. Just because I could have been a parent doesn’t mean I should have had children. A lot of people don’t understand. I know I’m missing out on something very special, but I’m OK with that. There are people around me who have children and doing a wonderful job with their kids and I am truly amazed by their attention and dedication to those little human beings. I think children are fantastic, imaginative, and almost magical. They remind us why we try so hard to be better people.
Please keep in mind that my non-maternal disposition doesn’t make me evil; however, messing with my mom might mean I’m a little on the demented side.
I know I shouldn’t tease her like that, but it is such good fun. Mom, I know you read my blogs sometimes, so here’s one bit of advice – please don’t take me so seriously – I’m really not as nutty as you think I am. Anyway, you should focus more on my sister; she thinks she is an alien (the gray kind, not the green ones).
Happy New Year to All. I hope 2017 is good to you. What kind of cat butts will we find in the year to come?