Mothers & Daughters

I'm the oldest child in a family with a very old world, old school mother--think Joy Luck Club. To understand this story you'd need to know a bit about my mom. My mom is not only old school Asian from the old country...she also married my dad at 17 and had me at 19...so she's not exactly the most worldly of souls...and she's pretty religeous. If you know anything about how Asian families work, you know that all responsibilities lie on the oldest child's shoulders...as does all blame. And you're guilty till proven innocent.

Now those of you who know me know that my dad is actually very Anglo...however, my dad wasn't around much...especially not for my teenage years. I won't lie and say I wasn't a bit of a hellion teenager...though I kept my carrousing to boys...but since my mom married young, she had some concerns about my exuberant nature. I admit...I was kryptonite for more than my share back in the day...(some even fondly nicknamed me "jailbait")...but I was mostly a tease...Yeah, I can admit it now that I'm all grown up.

So anyway, one day, I'm getting ready for school when my mother's voice blasts me hard, screaming at me about my sexual activity and how sinful my behavior was and how I'd better repent. She was yelling about my "birth control pills" and wanted to know how and where I'd got them. I was confused as hell. I wasn't ON birth control and had NO idea what in Hades she was talking about. I kept trying to ask, but asking only made her angrier...which meant her volume got louder and her screaming became incoherent.

My little sister sauntered out of our shared bedroom to see what the ruckus was about... Even SHE was shaking her head...and then it all came together.

Sis: Where did you find this birth control?
Mom: In the bathroom, just sitting on the counter!
Sis: Was it wrapped in a metal foil square with about 6 to a sheet?
Mom: Yes!
Sis: MOM! That's my cleaning enzyme for my contact lenses!!!
Mom (looking sheepishly at me): Well? How was I supposed to know! You're always flirting with boys.
Me: You know, you could at least apologize.
Mom: Go to school.

And then about a year or so later my mom comes up to me and tells me that she doesn't want me hanging out with one of my girl friends anymore because she thinks that she's a bad influence. Considering how wholesome and clean cut this girl was in high school, I was confused, so I asked why. "Because she's influenced you to use marijuana!!!" my mom explodes.I looked at my mom like she'd lost her mind and told her that I'd never USED marijuana. I could see by the look on her face that she didn't believe me, so I started thinking...what on earth could have made her think I was on pot? And then I realized...and started laughing hysterically.Mom: It's not funny! Drugs are bad for you!

Me: I know, Mom. Were the "drugs" you found wrapped up in plastic wrap and sitting on the ironing board in your bedroom?
Mom: Yes!
Me: Mom, that wasn't marijuana...that was Catnip!!! Couldn't you tell by the smell?
Mom: OH!!! (like she understood everything now) Well I've never been around marijuana, so I don't know how it smells. What's catnip?
Me: It's this stuff that you give cats and it makes them all hyper. Brad White gave it to me as part of my Valentine's Day gift. Did you honestly think I'd be stupid enough to leave drugs on YOUR irnoing board in YOUR bed room? Come on, Mom. I'm at LEAST smarter than THAT!
Mom: Oh. (and just like that she walked away)

Brad, the boy I'd been dating at the time, had given me two red roses for the two weeks we'd been dating, a card, a mix-tape he'd made where he'd also dictated why each song made him think of me before he'd play the song...AND, thinking he was clever...he bought me a box of catnip as a play on my names...because it makes "Kats go crazy." Ha-ha! There was only one little ball to put catnip in, so I'd wrapped the remaining catnip in plastic wrap so that it wouldn't spill everywhere and make a mess...and I'd forgotten it on my mom's ironing board.

I guess it couldn't be easy, being a single mom to a daughter prone to being an incorrigible flirt, especially since she'd never really experienced much of life. I've got to give her credit, though... She tried. Poor thing, I think she spent my teenage years terrified of what could happen next.