Mother's Day

Mom, circa Old School Shit.

The worst thing about having your parents die before you're old is that you can't draw from the well of terrible shit that they've had to go through. You can't ask them, "So, what'd you do when you were both outta work and past due on all your bills with three kids to take care of?". You know they got through the shit ('cause you're here to dwell on it), but you don't know how, like they're some mysterious hero that makes the legend and destroys the impossible enemy but doesn't tell you shit. Mysteries.

I don't know about you all, but it just adds to the influence anxiety I have about parenting. Maybe call that parent anxiety (but not in some stupid Hollywood sense that all men are scared of being dads and all women have to raise all children, everywhere, ever). I could never be the titan of morality and sterness that my mother was for me. I can't quote the appropriate Bible verse. I can't instill in my children the fear of the Lord. I can't be the pillar of righteousness that Mom was, guiding her errant children to the shores of well being. I am a complete and utter failure at life, not like her, who took the hard road, sacrificed, put shit on lay a way, washed clothes in the bathtub and hung them out to dry, scrubbed cloth diapers clean of my filth, ensured I was well fed and cleaned, and raised children in the insane cauldron of southern Mississippi.  

I am a stupid child, bereft of understanding, completely ignorant of how I should be, unknowing and yet cognizant of my stupidity.

Proverbs says, "Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it."

I love you mom.