When I was a kid my mom used to forbid me to keep growing. Clearly, I've continued to let her down. It used to make me a bit mift when she thought she was so funny. And I'm sure I'd say in my head (or outloud in a sarcastic teenager know-it-all tone) "Uh, yeah, because I'm doing this on purpose for you, lady. I'm taller than my teachers and coaches, Mom. I'm just absolutely LOVING driving you crazy while outcasting myself in the social realms of the hell pit known as high school. It's so worth it to irritate you." I'm sure I said it just like that.
In my mom's defense, she did not know what to do with me. I was 6' tall at 12-years-old. My dad was trying to make a business work in the oil industry in the 80s in Houston. It was not easy to keep food in the fridge, let alone, clothes that fit me. We didn't have extra money for frivolous things like clothes or shoes that fit. So, her forbidding me to grow anymore, was a stressful plea, I'm sure. My older sister apparently stopped growing when my mom told her to - she's 5'3". My mom did not know what to do with me.
So, you'd think when my mom-certificate showed up in the mail, I'd know exactly what to do for these growing babies of mine. Like maybe that would be my one triumph of motherhood: "As God as my witness, my kids will never wear high-waters." Or something like that. It turns out, not so much.
Lucy came out of school the other day with her fuzzy winter boot sole flopping, half separated from the shoe. So, we went straight to get new shoes. Here in Omaha, we've been hoping winter was coming to an end, so, Target was out of kids' boots. I remembered that she was on the cusp of being able to fit into women's sizes, and so , we went to try some on. A size five was too small. A size six was too small. The kid found a great pair of warm ladies shoes in size SEVENNNNNN. A SEVEN!
And the words, "You need to stop growing so fast" almost escaped my lips. I just can't keep up. The next week, she came downstairs with pants too short. Pants that I'd gotten her in January. It's two months later, y'all.
So, Mom, this one's for you. I haven't said it out loud yet, and I'm hoping I won't. Still, I get it just a little more now.
That's how I roll.
