Crazy Mom

My mom is crazy. Now I know what you’re thinking, “Screw you no she isn’t”. But she is. She’s not like other moms in the way that other moms are like. As an example, let’s say you brought home one of those macaroni houses that you made in school and showed it to your mom. A normal mother would look at it and say “Oh that’s so cute” and then try to breast feed it or something. Not my mom. My mom would look at a noodle home and believe that this kind of design was the next big thing in home improvement. “Oh yah, I think were gonna start seeing a lot more of these going up around here in the not too distant future. If they thought particle board was cheap just wait until they get their paws on some noodle”

That’s my mom, always thinking of the possibilities. In fact, that’s what I used to call her as an infant, “possibility”. This reminds me of that time when I was born. It was a cold, dreary, night and the sun was illuminating everything on the other side of the planet. As I was just being brought into this world I distinctly remember my mom arguing with the doctor about cutting the umbilical cord. She wanted to keep it giving the doctor a look of “Well, I’m going to have to continue feeding the stupid thing one way or another anyway” But the doctor just wasn’t having it. He was one of these people that was all concerned with people’s appearances and apparently thought it would look too “silly” to walk around with a baby dangling.

After 36 months of intense debates of the pros and cons my mom finally said “Ok fine, don’t get your jolly ranchers all in a bunch, we can cut it” This made the doctor quite happy as he shouted out with glee. Without hesitation he quickly picked me up, tied me to the doorknob, and slammed the door. I’m not sure if that’s the standard way to cut an umbilical cord but I would have to say probably. I know my mom is still a little upset to this day that the cord was cut. Deep down, I know the real reason she didn’t want to cut it was because she really wanted to have a go at the human yo-yo championships, and the worst part is, you can’t even blame her. Believe me, I’ve tried, but in doing so I have realized that blaming her is pretty much exactly like trying to drink a glass of water with one chop stick and no arms. I can't do it and neither can you, so get off your high horse. But anyway I think that story really shows my moms unique personality. She can look at something like cutting an umbilical cord and say, “Hey, what if?” That’s the first time I called my mom possibility to her face.