When I was 4, mom and dad decided to divorce. I can honestly say that I really don't even remember my dad being at home much as a child. So, the divorce really was not a big deal to me. Dad went to live with his mother in north Austin, and we stayed at our home on the south side of Austin. The day he left, I do remember mom closing the door behind him and having a a noisy but short cry. I went and grabbed her hand and said, "Momma, it'll be OK. I'm still here. Let's dance." And we did. I found my favorite Kenny Rogers album and put it on the record player and we danced. I was a real sweetie, wasn't I?
We settled into our new life quite well, I thought. Mom had good stable job at Social Security as a Service Representative and each day we would get up to start our day together.
The mornings of my early childhood were torturous. My mother has always been a morning person. A singing song, never needs a cup of coffee, wake up loving life, kinda morning person. It was horrible! Because I am not. I don't like to talk for at least an hour and I don't really want to be touched in any form or fashion. I'm cranky dammit, let me be. As a 4 year old though, there just wasn't much I could do about it. So, mom would get up, take her shower and then come and get me ready for school, singing songs from the Sound of Music or a song about this damned broken doll that was being mended for Christmas day. It was horrible, but the woman loved to get my feathers in a ruffle, not much different than today.
We would then amble into the bathroom where she would continue her singing and wash my face with a washcloth that I believe she kept in the fridge overnight. She would continue her ministrations by giving me what is commonly referred to as a whore's bath, I was bathed head to toe with that frigid cloth. Every single morning. She did this even if I had a bath the night before, it didn't matter, that woman was going to make sure all of my crevices were stench free. Seriously, I'm scarred from it.
After, my ice bath, mom would dress me. I know I could have gotten dressed by myself, but I loved watching the expressions on her face as she did it. Her tying my shoes was the best part. I would lay on the bed and she would put the shoe on my foot and then rest it on her tummy, while she tied the laces. All the while she would be sticking her little tongue out, just a tad from her lips. I always wondered if she could tie the laces minus the tongue or if the tongue was really an instrumental part of the whole process.
After the dressing, we would then go to the living room and sit in mom's great big rocking chair and rock until our ride got there. Austin has one of the best para transit systems and we had a regular driver each morning. His name was Johnny, and each day he would stop at a gas station and buy me a honey bun before I was dropped off at day care.
It was a good life. But not all mornings were this glorious. Not long after mom and dad's divorce, a friend gave us a German Shepard named Lady. Lady was beautiful. She had tall pointy ears and she was very sweet natured, but Lady did have one major flaw, Lady was probably the dumbest dog I have ever encountered. I'm a huge animal person, especially, when it comes to dogs, but Lady really was "special." Lady did have gifts, unfortunately, none of them revolved around following directions or being trainable.
One day, we awoke to a spider web that Lady entangled all over my swing set. She had made it over the bar on top, wrapped it around the see saw, under the slide and around the swing. We did not own twine before Lady literally pulled it out of her ass. It was a piece of art! Seriously, the dog was gifted with what little brain matter she did have. You could tell she was so proud of herself, and I have to admit, we were pretty proud of her too, in an awe struck, "what the heck have you done?" sort of way.
But, the day Lady really made her mark, was one very cold Austin winter night. On this particular night, temperatures were going to dip below freezing and we didn't want anything to happen to our special girl, so mom decided she would allow Lady in for the night.
Now, there is something you need to know about my mom, she has a very easy gag reflex. For instance, if I said, "Oh mother, Lucas has a green booger hanging out of his nose." She would gag and then for some unknown reason to me, she will pull her shirt up over her nose until she knows that I have removed the booger. It doesn't matter that the booger has no odor. It's just the idea of a green booger being near. I know, I know, she's pretty "special" too.
Well, as you might guess, Lady had free reign of the house over the night and she chose to sleep in mom's room. Well, around 5 or 6 the next morning I hear my name being called. It's mom, and she's kind of gagging in between yelling for me. The conversation went like this...
"Cindy, it's mommy. Are you awake? Gag. I need you to listen to me very carefully. Lady has had a bad, gag, accident in mommy's room. I need you to go get some paper towels and put them on the poop, gag, gag, so that mommy can clean it up. Do you understand?" Me being in a sleepy state, didn't ask questions, I just found the poop and did as she asked. I then helped her navigate her way to the poop without stepping in it and then I went back to my room and climbed into my cozy bed. All the while, the only sound I hear in the other room is her gagging and coughing and gagging.
Now, mom will tell you that this was a horrible morning, but I'd like to think of it as sweet revenge for all the singing and ice baths. ;o)
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