One Whipped Mother

Behold the Lights!

Sometimes, when it seems I can’t feel any lower, as if the world is mocking me, me in my platform clown shoes and big fat pants, as if the universe has pulled out its starry phallus and taken a galactic piss upon my head, as if the squirrels that titter amongst themselves in my backyard trees are tittering at me, laughing at me as they crunch their nuts and shake their tails in my direction, dismissing my very existence, and the leaves of those trees are whispering insults as I sit on my patio -- me with my platform clown shoes and big fat pants -- something humorous, something warm will pop from the shadows and startle me out of my self-loathing, a fluffy ball of hope, maybe, that floats like a dandelion seed and settles gently on my soul, one that takes root and spreads, eventually covering me in weedy wishes, or a sweaty fist of ham come crashing down, knocking some sense into my stoney skull, and I will smile; yay, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy dandelion seed and thy sweaty fist of ham, they comfort me, and I shall smile.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the longest sentence ever written. Please, hold your applause for just a while longer, for there is a purpose in that tiresome bit of prose: It is my way of expressing gratitude to the small things, of acknowledging the little lights that creep up out of the darkness and illuminate my path, because lord knows, I’ve been stumbling blind lately. I continually search for those lights, as I’m sure you do as well, but many times, the lights don’t come when I want them. They come when I need them, when I’m not expecting them or demanding them; they come to me just as I’m about to step on a big pile of dog poop. They light my path, make it easier to navigate. And so, I want to thank those little lights that helped me through this week.

In order of appearance:

1) Thank you to Aisha, who took the time to write me a note regarding this story. Seems that I’d forgotten why I write, what my motivation is, why I bother at all. You made me remember.

2) To the person from the U.S. Department of State who is fascinated by my cat’s ass.: Thank you for making me giggle with surprised confusion and delight. But I still hate your boss.

3) Kristin, my next door neighbor, gets a thank you for laughing at my lame quips -- hard. You make me feel as if my “wit” matters. Sometimes, it’s all I have.

4) To my friend, K, who sent me the most wonderful letter yesterday. We’ve not met face to face, but through our years corresponding via blogs and e-mail, I have come to love you like a half-brother whose father divorced our mother and took you with him to another state. Thank you.

5) While folding laundry yesterday, I was tired, perturbed, felt like ripping my husband’s Fruit of the Looms to shreds and putting them in his drawer as if nothing had happened, and my boy, as usual, was “helping” with the laundry, thus making me even more perturbed, when he suddenly dropped my bra, pointed to something on one of the laundry room shelves, and said, “What’s that, Mommy?”

I gave a perfunctory glance and said, “Nothing. Just some crap,” as my fingernails dug deep into the crotch of my husband’s underwear.

“Oh, Mommy!” my boy said excitedly, “Don’t you know I love crap?”

Thank you, Brandon, for saving Daddy's underwear. You’re the brightest light of all.

posted by Ms. Lori @ 10:57 AM