Mom called me the other day. She was 'just thinking what a bad mother I was'.
This came about because of something that happened when I was about 6 years old, that she didn't remember happening. I had gotten in trouble for getting in a mud fight with the brat that lived next door. Well... HE started it! And, really, what's a girl supposed to do? I had to stand up to that icky boy and ended up covered in mud from head to toe. Mom caught me, stood me on the front porch and stripped my muddy clothes OFF! Hadn't she told me to NOT get muddy?
That little mud hole beside the house was my FAVORITE play place after a good, though rare, Tulsa rain. I was always really careful to never get more than my hands dirty while making mud pies, but that particular day the little turd next door, Darrin I think his name was, decided to throw a mud ball right on me. I knew I'd be in the dog house regardless, so decided to stand up to him. Guess I learned! Well, after I told this story on a recent visit my mother was aghast that she would do such a thing to me. Do I look traumatized? I think not.