I should preface my story by explaining something…I was an awful child. You know those kids that literally drive their mothers crazy–you see moms giving that dead sort of glare, hair all messed up, just ready to give up on life. Yeah well…that was my poor mother. Whether you were that child, your sibling was, or you are currently dealing with that type of offspring of your own, you know…you just know… that mother is praying every day that God will strike that child so she doesn’t have to.
I did many terrible, terrible things–if you ask my mother I was the worst of the lot. I would run away from her as soon as those automatic doors in Costco opened (voom). I was gone, the Costco cop was called, a voice came on over the intercom announcing to the store that there was a missing child. That was by no means the worst of it, though perhaps the most embarrassing.
I would demolish my toys–sweet little stuffed teddy bears close family friends had bestowed upon me at my birth were…de-stuffed. My mother sought for a few moments of rest, but all it took was a few moments for the little child terror to rip wide eyed teddy bears to shreds. Never underestimate the strength of a small strange child.
At any rate, when I was about 6 years old, and in the middle of my era of terror, my mother was forced to take me and my older brother to work with her. She got dressed up in her best meeting/work outfit, and made sure that we didn’t look like a couple of frumpy kids. Before I knew it we were in the elevator of an office building. I can remember thinking I have to stay in this elevator. I don’t know what it was about the elevator but I knew that I just had to remain inside it. So when my mother and brother stepped out onto the desired floor I ripped my hand out of my mothers grasp and remained where I was. The elevator doors closed on my mother’s ever growing red face as she whipped herself around to see me.
I rode the elevator until I felt like getting off and walked right into the open door of an office. There were two men sitting having an informal meeting. I announced my presence with a small smile and a hello. The men looked at me shocked–it was like they’d never seen a little girl before. Finally, one of the men managed to gather his wits and took me in search of my mother. As soon as we walked toward the elevator, the doors burst open and my mother and a security guard burst out. That is when I learned how much my mother loved me. I thought of my rebellious outbursts as a game with a woman who was always cranky and mad. That day as my mother scooped me into her arms with tears on her face, I learned that all the time outs and talking to’s she’d given me was because she loved me.
I hope that I can show my children as much love as my mother showed me that day.
~ Makinsey Eddy, Ashburn, Virginia