It's got to be tough to be a mother. Constantly worrying about your child. Trying to protect them from physical, emotional, and mental harm from any source. Hoping they'll live up to their potential and not be lazy bums. All sorts of tough stuff comes with the job description of mother. The closest I've come to this occupation is one of aunt; though baby-sitter and teacher take on some of these obligations as well.
I love my mother, I really do. She's a strong woman, who encouraged me to be strong (and not in the way Leoney teased about what it is to be a strong woman: those who go around breaking hearts and causing destruction to anything or anyone in her way). She is a gifted seamstress, musician, cook, etc. She really can blow my mind at her immense talent in so many areas. Is my mother perfect? Sadly, no. But really, I know how incredibly lucky I am to have the mother I have. She loves me unconditionally. She encourages me to try new things, take risks, strive for my dreams. She believes in me. She'll take the time to listen to me. More importantly, she's willing to talk to me with blunt honesty. I can count on her support always. I am more fortunate than many people, and I am fully aware of this. Perhaps I take it for granted, because these are things I have always experienced, but I cherish my mother.
Putting these things aside, I find that it can be hard for the two of us to reach a place where I can feel like an adult sometimes. I always figured that there was some point when parents sort of "let you go." Not literally. I knew you could count on them for wisdom that life teaches, and such. No, I guess I figured that when I was out on my own, my parents would be less inclined to take an active "parental" role in my life (if this makes any sense). Telling me what is best for me when I'm not asking and such.
Last night at rehearsal for "Be Our Guest," I was having a ball with the other serving maids/tables. We were joking a lot. Anyway, we have to either shuffle or cross our left legs over our right legs in order to move as a table. It's funny. As we were practicing an entrance for the number, I had been crossing as usual. All of a sudden, I felt a searing, excrutiating pain in my left foot's big toe. It was completely awful! I felt as it I'd been poked by a particularly sharp object or something. I flexed my toe, stood on the side of my foot, anything to take some of the pain away without interrupting poor Gina (with 60 people in this number, I don't want to be the one who made it harder on her than it had to be!). It subsided a bit, and I continued on my way.
Today, I sort of recalled this pain from last night. I put in my contacts and checked it out. I had a couple of red spots on the side of my toe, swelling, and a hideous purple and yellow bruise spreading over the side of my toe onto the top of it. Not so pretty. Knowing that tonight was church, I figured I could show mom and get her diagnosis, since she had studied to be a nurse her first 2 1/2 years of college before changing her major.
I had a bit of an adventure, while helping to finish the yearbook at home. Jeanne and I are hoping to put the finishing touches on it this weekend. We had to evacuate our apartment for at least a good hour because of toxic fumes from the blending of the Draino in the sink from last night and whatever our landlord put in this morning (loooooooooonnnnnnnnng story). After we got in, we worked for a bit before I had to leave for the production of You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown that the CHS show choir is putting on for a fundraiser, with Chris. BTW, the show was adorable. There were some disappointing aspects, but all in all, a wonderful show. I am a little biased, though! :) After this and some dinner, I worked a bit more, then headed to church.
My mom saw my toe. "I think it's broken!" was her response. Great. I'm not even 25 for a week, and have broken my first bone. I'm sure it's all downhill from here! As she's exclaiming this in the bathroom, and drawing a crowd, Susie Cornell (church secretary) walks in. "Susie, come look at Lynette's toe! Do you think it's broken?" "Possibly. After church, we'll get a nurse to look at it. Shirley's here." "Okay. Now, Lynette, be reeaaally careful when you walk on that foot." "I know, mom. But I really don't feel too much pain anymore." "Don't worry, Shirley will look at it. Susie will point her out to us, since we don't know her, and she'll be able to tell us the diagnosis." "Okay, mom. I know."
After church, my mom had me show Aunt Laurie the toe. "See, it's swelling. I don't think it's a bite. You'll have to tape it. Don't wear open toe shoes, or heels. Always be protective of that toe. Do you think it's broken, Laurie? I think it's broken. Do you know if there's something she could take on and off the toe, like a splint? They have them for fingers, now. Yeah, it's probably broken. This doesn't look good, Lynette. It's pretty swollen. Why don't you take off your other shoe and sock, and we'll compare the swelling . . ." I truly don't think my mom drew a breath. She kept repeating this over and over and over. I put my sock and sneaker back on, and went to socialize with people again.
Soon, Susie Cornell came with Shirley, and my mom in tow. I had to remove the shoe and sock for the third time in 1 1/2 hours. As she's looking over my toe, and asking me if I'm in pain as she touches my foot, bend my toe, etc., my mom jumps into her spiel for the second time. However, this time, I've got another crowd, half commenting on how painful this looks, and the other commenting on the fact that I (apparently) have cute feet. Yes, it was somewhat surreal.
The diagnosis? We don't know what happened, but it's not broken. My mom grilled poor Shirley about my toe, all the while throwing out advice to me. Wow.
I have long known that I can do absolutely nothing in a normal way, but this just further proves this theory. If you'd like to debate it, I can offer a plethora of evidence to support my scientific theory. Go ahead, try me! It may not always be fun, but at least I get good stories out of them. Funny, funny, funny.
So, this song (with the same title) is from Hairspray. Sometimes, I wonder if my mom can really comprehend that I am, in fact, over the age of 10. Sigh. It must be hard to be a mom.
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