For this one I have to make the following disclaimer: I really do love my daughters and especially Kitty. However, what no one ever told me was that once you have kids, you never have anything of your own again...
Let’s start with clothes. Being a single mother since what feels like the 19th century, of course there were times when money was scarce. But I did buy myself a sweatshirt that I absolutely loved: black, with the word “Discus” in small white print on the left side. Other than the name, there wasn’t anything special or awe-inspiring about this sweatshirt. But once my girls saw it: all they wanted to do was wear it. Now keep in mind: we were all different sizes from medium to large to…a little more than large. But like the “sisterhood of the traveling pants”, the sweatshirt seemed to fit all of us! Go figure! Whenever I would want to wear it Gabriella would be coming home from school with it on. I’d want to wear it but Kitty would have worn it to visit her grandparents. But the best time was when Gabriella was going back to Washington State
Another area where my stuff isn’t mine is when it comes to food. I had made a wonderful dinner one night, after Kitty had already eaten. I packed up the leftovers for lunch the next day. An hour or so later there was a knock on my bedroom door, and it was Kitty. “Mom, is that food in the container for your lunch?” “Yes honey it is. Why?” “Because I ate it.” I wasn’t a happy camper with that response! “Why didn’t you ask me before you ate it?” “I forgot.” Nice!
And I can forget bath and body products. Since I am now…on the northern side of 40, I need a bit of assistance keeping my youthful appearance. I invested way too much money on a particular L’Oreal product, Regenerist, which works like magic as you'd be able to tell if you could see me. It costs an arm and a leg for little more than an ounce, so I used it very sparingly on my face. I came home from work one day and went in my room, where I encountered Kitty sitting on my bed in a towel, freshly showered. “Honey, what are you doing?” I asked conversationally. “Putting on some lotion.” Then I watched in horror as she innocently held up my 1.75 ounce bottle of L’Oreal, squirted a bunch in her hand and began applying it! It was like slow-motion as I watched my money being applied to someone who in no way, shape or form needed it. Needless to say, I snatched it out of her hand and replaced it with the St. Ives!
Speaking of my room, and I use the term loosely, I used to think of it as my sanctuary. I would lock the door when necessary and enjoy some relaxing me-time. That is, until the day the girls learned to pick the lock…so now if I want me-time I go out to my car, sit in the driveway and pretend that I’m not home!
Like many others, back in the day we'd sometimes videotape shows or movies. I was the one who usually bought the blank tapes. One of my favorite authors is Dean Koontz, and they were running one of his mini-series back to back so I was very excited to tape it so I could watch the whole thing in one fell swoop. I finally had a free Saturday and got my snacks, drink and comfort clothes on (no, not the Discus sweatshirt because Brie was wearing it!) and settled down for an entire afternoon of suspenseful psychological thriller-ness. I put in the tape, rewound it, hit play: and then my mouth dropped open in shock because instead of Dean Koontz: Pokemon greeted my eyes! “Kitty!” I roared. “What happened to my mini-series?” “I needed to tape my show and didn’t have a blank tape.” “But it was my tape and I didn’t get to watch my mini series.” “That’s okay mom; I watched it and it was good.” I can’t make this stuff up!
But I think the best example of nothing being mine comes from when I took Kitty to the circus, which I hate. Anyone who knows me knows that I hate clowns; and I’m not too keen on animal smells. So imagine my delight at having both wrapped up into one magical event! But I digress…
She had never been to the circus before; and since I’m always vying for the title of mother of the year I put aside my issues and decided to take her. When I take her to events such as this, I always buy her all the souvenirs her little heart desires. She was loaded down with stuff, and I was keeping my eyes peeled for any killer clowns. Presently I noticed a vendor making his way towards us, and what ware was he hawking? The most amazing thing I had ever seen: a helium-filled balloon on a stick! Anyone who knows me knows that I love balloons even more than I hate clowns. He had an electric blue balloon with silver glittery stars, and I knew I had to have it. So like the 5-year-old child I am inside, I handed over my hard-earned $10 and he gave me my balloon on a stick! I was so happy; I didn’t even mind the smell of the elephants that apparently weren’t housebroken. I just sat there: transfixed by my balloon and every so often waving it a little.
Anyhoo, after the circus I went home and made dinner. Afterwards I was washing the dishes and heard Kitty go into her room. When I finished the dishes I went into the living room, but noticed that my balloon wasn’t there. I knocked on her door and when she opened it I said “Honey, have you seen mom’s balloon?” She didn’t answer, but she did cut her eyes to the corner of her room. I looked in that direction and my eyes widened in horror: there was my stick with a deflated balloon attached! “Kittywhat happened to my balloon?” “I sucked the helium out of it so I’d talk in a funny voice.” Can you believe it?? “But that was mine; what do I tell you about touching things that don’t belong to you?” “I’ll blow it back up again.” “It’s not the same with just your plain non-helium breath in it!” “Sorry mom.”
So I took my stick with the $10 deflated balloon attached, went to my room like the dejected 5-year-old that I felt like, and just sat on my bed staring at it...
Now I’m not going to say that I never got over it: but I do still have the stick in the trunk of my car! So with these examples in mind, I guess I can complete the title: what’s mine is ultimately theirs!
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