Day 8: Feast of the Meats
During my childhood, my mother told me a minimum of 3 million times that "a mother's job is to embarrass her child." Let's just say she did her job very well. I have to admit, though, that it was not nearly as bad for me as it was for my two older, more sensible sisters, Kristin and BethAnn. It was as if the two of them were simply born more mature and socially aware than my mom, and therefore had an innate understanding of how ridiculous her shenanigans were.
She would dance when nobody wanted her to. She would wear inappropriate earrings. (Yes, earrings can be inappropriate. Just ask her tiny Santas dangling from her ears at Christmastime - wearing nothing but strategically placed Santa hats.) She loved The Artist Formerly Known as Prince while he was still The Artist Known as Prince, and would belt out all his songs at volumes so loud she damaged her own hearing. And while the other moms were sending homemade cookies to camp,
she was mailing us actual garbage.
Now that I am a mother, I can really appreciate all of those quirky little things about my mother. Oh, wait... no I can't. Those things are all still terribly embarrassing,
Sandi. However, I do catch myself being a lot more like her than I had ever intended. Sure, I haven't actually mailed garbage to the children, yet... but it sounds like something I might consider.
I am that mom who comes to school for "Colonial Days"only to discover that none of the other volunteers remembered to dress like this:
What you see there on the bottom right corner? Embarrassment.
I am that mom who dresses up for Halloween. And I mean... I
dress up.
And I make the whole family participate.
I know it's hard to tell, but behind those hand-bent wire rim glasses, and crooked Santa beards... the children are mortified.
I am my mother. Hurricane Sandi the II.
Honestly, it's a miracle that any of them speak to me. But they do! They even seem to enjoy me most of the time! They ask me to stop dancing, they beg of me never to sing in public, and they roll their eyes when I arrive at their school in a wedding gown for some reason... but they also sort of secretly love it.
I haven't ruined them, which is a good thing. They still tolerate me, and they have fully embraced #AdamsActs even though some of the things we do are outside their comfort zone.
For Day #8, I want to share a few things that happened just today.
This came in the mail for my oldest daughter, Annalee:
The fitting part of being selected as a Kindness Crusader, is that she is being recognized for her kindness, but is also going to be perpetually embarrassed because part of this gig is wearing one of those yellow pinny/jersey things. Poor girl. At least I prepared her well for public humiliation.
This was sent to me by Marlie's teacher:
Harper came home from school and made his sisters' beds
because I forced him to
without being asked.
London (and keep in mind that she is five, and this is self-report data) made all the friends and told so many compliments. She is also full of ideas and suggestions for different #AdamsActs. They are usually very elaborate, but my personal favorite was what she called a "Feast of the Meats" where homeless children are welcome to come and watch Nana's TV while we prepare several meat options to enjoy.
And Jay actually wins Day 8 as he served the poor in the city of Rochester at a soup truck tonight with Grandma. And by "served the poor" I mean he pretended to drive the soup truck. It's a start though.
I am one proud mama. For such an embarrassing mother, these kids are pretty darn sharp! And kind. And someday, I think they will be glad for the generational curse of crazy that passed down through the generations.