Just Wait 'Til You Have Kids!

My mom - along with, like, 90 bazillion other moms out there - has always enjoyed saying, "Just wait until you have your own kids!" I think she secretly relished in the thought that someday, years in the future, I would realize with perfect clarity how much hell she went through.

And now that I do have kids of my own, sure enough, I've got a sneaking suspicion that I'm being karmically punished for the irritating things I heaped upon my mom when I was a child. Which gave me an idea: maybe if I apologize to my mom for some of my worst infractions now, I won't be punished for them later. Because I don't know how many more poo-smeared fiascos I can take.

So without further ado ... Mother dear, I give you this public apology for the following misdeeds:

- Painting my dollhouse with nail polish. Yes, Mom, I did realize it was salon polish. I stood right there as you paid like thirteen dollars for the "good stuff" as opposed to the two bucks you'd have usually forked over. But the fact that it was a salon brand means nothing to a four-year-old ... especially a four-year-old who was intrigued by the round bottle. And who also had a dollhouse that would look SUPER AWESOME painted with such a fabulous mauve! You have to admit, it looked smashing on that lime-green plastic table.

- Ordering $75 worth of toys C.O.D. Hey, I was only seven, and all I knew was that I couldn't write a check or use a credit card. So I chose the only other option - cash on delivery - to order my Samantha doll some kick-ass accessories. She needed a lunchbox and a backpack and schoolbooks, Mom. Geez. I guess you're pretty lucky that they didn't let me complete the transaction because I (obviously) wasn't eighteen.

- Moving 90% of our belongings into the (muddy) back yard while you were at work. Okay, in retrospect it was a pretty stupid thing to do. But I was almost certain that our house was heating up somewhere within the insulation, and was sure to blow up any minute.* I was trying to save our stuff, damn it!

*I may or may not have come to that conclusion when I held my Hypercolor socks up to the wall and they changed color.  

- Putting eggs in your shampoo. I was just playing "mix" with my friend Bobbie - the same Bobbie who helped me move all our stuff into the yard. We were creating a whole line of beauty products. Those eggs were to turn your boring old shampoo into a nourishing protein pack! Ever thought of just being grateful that your daughter cared about the health of your hair? Huh Mom? HUH?

- Dyeing my hair purple. And red. And blue. And green. And shaving the underside of it off. And letting my friends use our patio to dye their hair said colors while you were at work, thus unfairly saddling you with the scorn of those friends' parents because you "let us" do it at our house.

- Lying about my first serious boyfriend's age. You nearly had a heart attack when I told you he was eighteen, so can you imagine what would have taken place if I'd told you that he was actually twenty-one?! I was just protecting (myself) you from a major freakout. Because, like, I was a grown woman of fourteen years old and I knew everything, duh. Your inevitable forbidding of our dating would've like ruuuuuined my liiiiiiife!

There you go, Mom. I'm sorry for all that stuff ... especially now that I'm worried it'll come back to haunt me!