Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Prison Break

Among many other things, moms are known for embarrassing their kids.
It's just a fact of life.
I still remember one specific incident where my mom was super embarrassing...
but I was so scared I couldn't even feel the embarrassment.

 I was a junior high kid- and based on what happened, I must have been a grounded junior high kid.
But if there's one thing you must know about me, it's this:
this free bird was not meant to be caged!
Word on the streets was that my neighbor was having a raging party that night. Her mom was out of town which is an unfortunate, obvious invitation for tons of teenagers to take over the grounds and turn it into their playground for the night. 
(Swear my kids will never do that. And double swearsies that never happened at my house....)

Well, La Ajcita- as we sometimes affectionately call my mom- left the house on that Friday afternoon. I don't know where she was going or when I thought she would be back. But apparently, I definitely thought it was perfect timing to slip out of my jail cell unnoticed. 
So slip I did, and trotted through the trails until I arrived at the party.
And there I was, the young junior higher, mingling with all the big people.
I was feeling cool, I was blending in.
Now it's hard to say if I lost track of time or if I suddenly could have cared less about rules and regulations. Those two excuses often get blurred in my life. Which ever one of the two it was, it resulted in me staying at the party longer than my window of freedom allowed.
And next thing you know, 
there was a low rumbling sound that quickly gained strength. 
The crowds of crazy teenagers started to split, and when the opening was clear, it wasn't Moses who was standing there.
Instead it was AJ, shamelessly yelling out,
There was no trepidation in her, no intimidation to be found despite the critical crowd she was among.
Huh uh, she was on a mission and homegirl was out to accomplish.

I remember my eyes growing in size, my head quickly bowing, and my feet shuffling as fast as they could to move my body into that 13 passenger van that was waiting to escort me back to my cell.
The rest is history.
(Think beating, being locked in the basement for days, you know. Just kidding just kidding!)

Like I said, I was so scared I didn't even have time to be embarrassed.
But please make no mistake-- it was an embarrassing mom moment!

I've been thinking about my mom lately.
Being catapulted into the role of mom myself, has made me reflect on her a lot. 
As I'm sitting there reading to my kids, I often catch myself imagining my mom with her littles all gathered around.
Did she feel the same way about us as I do about my own kids?
Did she enjoy this part of motherhood?
What all did I learn from my mom?
What parts of her were passed down to her fifth child?
These thoughts pass fluidly through my mind.

The other day I was breathing deep after finishing doing something really hard and uncomfortable.
(Why is it that doing hard things isn't easy?!!!)
And the realization hit me like a ton of bricks--
the reason I know how to do hard things is because I have watched my mom do hard things for years.
It was never her vocalized mantra, nor was it something she pounded in her kids' heads.
She simply lived her life doing hard things: confronting uncomfortable situations, standing up for truth, listening to her heart and following it, walking through throngs of teenagers in order to find her stray daughter, etc.
She was no stranger to hard.
But she did it.
She does it.
Time and time again.

And that silent message has infused it's way into me.
It has given me strength to do things that allow for inner peace.
It has given me strength to take on new adventures.
It has also been the reason that sometimes I feel sick to my stomach!
All in all,
it has been the means to let me live life at a higher level.

I'm thankful for a mama that does hard things.

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