Once upon a time, my sister gave me a birthday card with a picture of a large loving family on it. In the background of the photo, you could see a kid hanging halfway over the fence. The caption said, “Do you know how we always pick you out in family photographs? You're always the one who is trying to escape!”
Back before I became a crazy mom, I didn’t quite mix in with my family. In fact, I was like a drop of heathen oil in a vat full of Southern Baptist vinegar. I can clearly remember looking at my parents and shouting at them, “I am going to choose the most difficult road in life possible and I’m going to make it just to prove to you that I can!” Wow. I imagine that they half expected me to sprout a second head at any moment. My mother must’ve been wondering what she’d done wrong as a parent because even now, reading my insane statement, I’m left wondering if maybe she’d been smoking dope while I was in the womb.
That’s a joke, Mom. Don’t call and yell at me.
Needless to say, I was wild and I worried my family to death. But being the wonderful people that they are, they never gave up hope on me. They prayed that someday I would come to my senses and I did. That is what my family does. They hold out hope even for the hopeless. They never stop believing, trying or loving. They are always there with open arms, ready and willing to welcome the wandering back home.
Every day I worry that my children, particularly my oldest daughter, will be just like me. Even worse, I fear that she will not want to be anything like me. Regardless of how I score on this life-quiz called motherhood, I hope that I will always live honestly in the eyes of my children. I pray that someday, they will look back and remember a mom that loved them more than life itself… despite the fact that she had an ugly second head from time to time.
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