I was an antagonistic child.
I enjoyed mischievous rebellion that was overall harmless, yet right on the nerve. The primary target of most of my mischief was my biggest cheerleader: my mama, Aqua. I tended to stay within the lines. My favorite example is when I was 4 or so, she would be playing video games, coffee unattended just behind her. I would sneak up, guzzle down the sugary charge, tiptoe around the corner, and wait.
“Diane!”
I would giggle and run. Repeat that for 13 years in various capacities without ever stepping out of line, and you have a long history of playful mayhem. I pity her for having to raise such a flighty bullhead, honestly, but I have a feeling my son is going to be even more wild and stubborn than me. When I became a parent last year, I suddenly grew a deeper appreciation for everything that my own parents had done for me.
For those doubting me on staying in the lines, don’t. I was the loser who got mad at my friends for lighting up a cigarette or drinking at the party. “It’s bad for you,” I said. A friend from school mentioned to me recently that I was always the ‘lone wolf’ in school, which happens to be one of my favorite animals, but I realized she was right. Yet, my mama also had a den for me to return to and never questioned my desire to not join the group. I preferred wandering away from the crowd to find the forgotten path.
She would always say, “You can do whatever you set your mind to.” Many years later, I caught on to the fact that she also meant that I was a ‘spitball of fire‘ that bounced between passions weekly, sometimes daily. ‘Set your mind to’ was the point, but I only ever listened to the ‘You can do [anything]!”
Nevertheless, she rarely discouraged me in my pursuits. Even when we were fighting (mischievous rebellion turned into smart-aleck rebellion), she would protect my interests, fuming all the while. I can definitely say that she was always on my side when we weren’t directly against each other. There is hardly anyone better to get riled up on my behalf. No school ever wanted to have to call my mother, that’s for sure.
“Is she getting good grades? Yes? Then, leave her alone.”
Her version was vastly more colorful. “Ticky Time Bomb,” I called her temper.
My mother gave me all of the freedom with all of the discipline. As long as I was mannered and fulfilled my responsibilities, I could go and do as I pleased. It fostered a lot of my independence and ability to critically think and solve problems. I volunteered to work in her office, wanting to be a business owner like her one day. Learning from her and her employees, hearing that I learned quickly, filled me with the confidence I needed to become a valued employee at every job I’ve had since.
Mom is also creatively talented, especially with her hands. I loved to watch her play piano and guitar, even though I didn’t get her musical talent. She’s made knitted goods, candles, jewelry, and probably more that I don’t even know about.
I’ve learned so much from my mama, things I didn’t even realize I learned from her until I started raising a baby of my own. When she comes over to babysit him, I watch to see how she handles different things. Most of the time, TJ and I will copy what she does when it works. This will be my first time admitting that, though! Whatever the reason, I have a natural urge to antagonize her, prove that I am a big girl and strong on my own, even though I still find comfort in her arms. I think it comes from her being my cheerleader. Admitting to her that I can’t do something is the ultimate defeat, an admittance of my not being enough to make her proud after everything she has invested in me.
I pursue my passions not just for myself, my son, and the family that I’ve built. I pursue them to honor the effort she put into raising me, to show my gratitude for bringing me into this world, even by accident. I will speak up to her and fight her on my ideals more than anyone else in this world. I am my strongest and bravest when facing her. I’ve always wished to be as brave against the world as I am against her, to speak up to defend others the way she always defended me, to fight tooth and nail and drag myself against the concrete of life no matter how much I bleed. I grit my teeth and fight. I jump ever higher to grasp the wings she started.
I’m grateful to my mama for everything, even as I crash against her in rebellion. I would always support her and encourage her, but my outspoken nature originated with her. When I was too shy to talk to anyone else, I yammered in her ear. When I didn’t show my stories to the world, I shoved them in her face. When I didn’t agree with her, she knew it. I’ve watched her more closely than I’ve ever watched anyone. I believe, unfortunately for her, that I was born to be her antagonist. I never hold back even though I know she holds back to always show me strength. She’s the toughest warrior I know. Even as she ages and slows down, if I were ever called to battle, I would want her in my corner. Even if I am butting my head against hers, I would join hands to take down any who oppose us.
My mother taught me how to be strong despite weakness, to forge ahead against all odds. I hope that in this life, I will be able to repay those lessons with strength that can provide for her as she provided for me. Saying that in my current economic situation sounds like a joke, crying over my keyboard as I type, but my philanthropic plans start with my family. Even if I have nothing to give, I dream of giving everything to them and those beyond.
I love my mama.
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