When I was a baby, my mom dressed me in cloth diapers and vintage lace blouses. She fed me apple and onion baby food, bought me weird educational toys, gave me zillions of books, and was confused and fascinated by each thing I did. When I was a kid, my mom dressed me in dorky monogrammed jumpers or plain pocket tees and boys denim shorts. She cut my hair in the back yard, watched This Old House, wore overalls, fought with the principal of my school so I could go to WINGS, handmade my Halloween costumes, helped me do a zillion projects to enter in the Ozark Empire Fair each summer, made us test all of the recipes from the JLS cookbooks for years, sent me to summer camp, taught me to cross stitch, let me read anything I wanted, and was constantly baffled by my interests and ideas. She told me that if people didnt like me because they thought I was weird or nerdy or different, it was because they were stupid. When I was a teenager, my mom hated my low-slung jeans and stacks of punk bracelets. She blasted music with all the windows down in her SUV when we went to work out together at night, started doing triathlons, got a new job, bought me a present in anticipation that I wouldnt make the cheerleading squad (and still gave it to me when I actually did make it,) made me paint so many walls Navajo White in her rental units that I will never live anywhere with a white wall ever again in my life, bought me an electrical drill for my 16th birthday, considered changing dead bolt locks my most valuable extracurricular, took me to fly fishing school, let me go to amazing summer camps, still allowed me to read anything I wanted to, thought my eyeliner was absurd, was unsurprised when I started dating girls, made me be a debutante, took me to San Francisco and trusted me to entertain myself, and was constantly shocked, puzzled, and often entertained by the crazy things I did. She told me when I felt different and when people didnt understand me or like me that it was because they were stupid. When I became a parent, my mom thought my choices were fascinating and bizarre but she was used to it by then. She told me to never complain about being pregnant, gave me my weird baby toys, told me her favorite homemade baby food recipes, explained her parenting choices, worried about how parenting was going to effect my life, looked at my babies with the same amused bewilderment she has always looked at me with, and rolled with the decisions I made. She told me that if people were cruel because Id decided to parent young or because they couldnt understand the choices I made, it was because they were stupid. When I told my mom I was getting divorced, she told me that she was sure I was going to do things differently than most and yet was confident I would handle it in a distinctly unique way and that people would respond well to me if I was myself. She told me that the people who couldnt understand would come around eventually and if they didnt, they were stupid. Like any parent, my mom had dreams and plans and wishes for my life. Unlike any parent, she changed those dreams as she taught me to be my own person. Recently when she and I were discussing our differing political views, she told me that the conversation we were having was the entire point, to her, in the way she had raised me. She wanted me to be strong and smart and independent and able to clearly articulate my thoughts and ideas. She wanted me to be ME. My mom is so many things other than what Ive said here. In her 51 years she has been a daughter, a student, a campfire girl, a reader, a wife, a lawyer, an employee, an employer, a landlord, an artist, a lover, an athlete, a grandmother, and a Warrior Princess. To me, though, she is always Mommy. Happy Birthday, Crista Hogan. Im glad that on this day in 1963 you were born distinctly yourself and youve spent every day since impacting and experiencing the world in your own idiosyncratic way. I am continually perplexed, irritated, and entertained by you. I am so proud to be of you. I know some people dont really understand it but thats just because they are stupid. I love you. -Pride, WPIT
Posted on: Mon, 21 Jul 2014 19:22:48 +0000
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